Sir Xander and the Quest for the Holy Grrrail of Love by BonnieD

Can be a chapter of "Back in the Basement" or a stand-alone. (Remember, my series branches off before Buffy's date, so Xander never had a demon date with Ashanti.)

It was Saturday night, traditional date night, and Alexander Harris was surrounded by lovely young women. It had always been so. After all, his best friends were two beautiful ladies. It was his blessing and curse to be constantly immersed in an estrogen haze.

So yes, pretty girls all around and totally off limits to him. Most of 'em were too young and all of them were too dedicated to saving the world from ultimate Evil. Again he asked himself why he hadn't gone to the bar with his work friends instead of coming to video night at the Summers' home, where he was subjected to a carload of chattering Potentials and Andrew shushing them 'cause he couldn't hear the dialog.

"Sh! Shhhh! The best line is coming up..... 'At my signal, unleash hell!'" Andrew quoted along with Russell Crowe.

Xander had to fight the urge to chime in. It pained him to realize how similar his tastes were to the former member of the Nerd Troika. Andrew was a guy he would've hung out with in high school! Xander grimaced at the thought and grabbed another handful of popcorn. They were scraping the bottom of the bowl already and the movie had barely started.

"Look at that!" one of the girls exclaimed. "How totally fake! There's no way he could DO that."

"Yeah. And look at that one guy swinging his axe. That's not how you hold it! What a girly-man," another chimed in.

"Like you'd know! You haven't even fought a real demon yet, only sparred with Spike, which doesn't count. I, on the other hand....."

Xander sighed. It was going to be a long, long, extra long, almost-three- hour movie. This was only the opening battle. Just wait 'til they started picking apart the hand-to-hand combat in the gladiator scenes or, god forbid, choosing favorite dresses in the empress's wardrobe.

"I'll go make more popcorn," he announced to deaf ears, then scooped up the bowl and headed for the kitchen.

Willow and Anya were seated at the table, arguing about the components of a strength reducing spell. Again, he was ignored, as he went to the cupboard and pulled out another bag of microwave popcorn.

"It's not going to do any good if we can't disperse it over a wide area. There may be a whole battlefield worth of enemies we need to zap," Willow was explaining.

"And I'm telling you that you're running the risk of diluting the power and longevity of the charm by substituting ingredients!"

"I think I've been doing magic long enough to know how to channel the energies in different ways."

"You've been doing magic, serious magic, for, what, about three or four years at most? I'm almost a thousand years old! You think I don't know what I'm talking about?" Anya's voice was taking on that almost hysterical shrillness she achieved when you questioned her authority. Xander well remembered that tone. He had all too often countered it with a certain patronizing 'you're newly human and don't know our ways' tone of his own. He had hated it when he heard himself talking that way, but by the end he and Anya had fallen into such a deeply ingrained pattern they couldn't seem to shake it.

Lucky man. Don't have to get involved in this argument. Just make the popcorn and get out quick.

"Xa-aander!" Came the familiar whine. "Tell her what I told you about the time I helped that sorcerer curse the village in Romania. You know, back in 1635, or was it '36? I'm sure I told you about it. A village! A whole village! And I didn't once use my demon powers. It was an experiment. I wanted to see how ordinary witchcraft worked, and let me tell you, it worked damn well. So I think I know a little something about casting a wide-net spell!"

"Xander?" Willow cast him an appealing eye. "Help me out here."

"Look," he paused and took a deep breath to untie the knots in his gut their sparring always caused. He played for time by tossing the bag into the microwave and pressing buttons. When he turned around they were still both staring at him expectantly. "Look," he began again. "Why don't you call the coven in England and ask their opinion? Those ladies' know all the ins and outs, right?"

"You think I can't figure this out on my own?"

"You think a bunch of mortals know better than me?"

They spoke in stereo and Xander held up his hands in a warding gesture. "Whoa! Whoa! I'm just the popcorn-maker here. The window and wall fixer. The clean up guy. You two figure out what you need to do and leave me out of it!" He deliberately turned his back on their continued clamoring and watched the bag of popcorn puff up through the little glass door.

Sometimes when he walked into a room and saw Anya a bolt of burning desire skewered him, other times a stab of pain for the loss of her sweet warmth in his bed at night, but at times like these he felt a guilty pang of relief that he wouldn't have to hear her rant later on about all Willow's shortcomings. His apartment was silent, Anya-free, and lonely, but though he wanted a woman in it, someone to share his life with, he was no longer very sure that Anya was that woman.

In the time-honored tradition of the male of the species, Xander tuned out the bickering and concentrated on food. He ripped open the bag, refilled the popcorn bowl, and slipped out of the kitchen.

"Russell is SO not cuter than Keanu! Or a better fighter! Keanu could kick his ass!" Andrew was screaming at either Melissa or Melinda.

"Russell is a MAN. Keanu's just a bad-acting, surfer dude BOY!" the girl shouted back. "And 'The Matrix' SUCKS! It has no heart, just a bunch of flashy special effects."

"You take that back!" Andrew launched himself off the couch and Kennedy intercepted him and tossed him back in his seat.

"Chill, you two. Just watch the movie. Jeez!"

Xander quietly set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, walked to the front hall and took his coat from the closet.

****************

Xander stepped into the smoky bar and scanned the crowd for his friends, Steve, Mike and Jerry, and found them camped out in front of the biggest screen they could find, as he'd known they would be. He stopped a passing waitress and ordered a brew then pulled an extra chair up to the table.

"What's the score?" he asked, watching the teams clash without a clue as to who was playing. Sports was never on his agenda.

"Hey! Harris!!!" the men greeted him, Jerry reaching out and giving him a high-five. "You made it, man."

"Yeah. The other thing kinda fell through."

"2nd quarter and my team is down," Steve filled him in. "Jackson can't make a basket to save his life. I'm gonna lose my ass tonight!"

"If you were my kid you'd be out on the street," Mike, the oldest member of the group told him. "Sponging off your folks and blowing your whole damn paycheck every weekend. What a fucking loser." He spoke without venom, though, and Steve pretty much ignored the old guy.

Jerry motioned a waitress over. "Whaddya want, boss?" he asked Xander.

"That's okay. I already ordered." The waitress turned and threaded her way through the crowded room and Steve wolf-whistled at her ass.

"Ai, Chihuahua. Wouldja look at that. Man, this place is crawling with hot chicks tonight!" His leg jiggled nervously and his head bobbed around as he looked over the pickings. Xander decided he was probably high on something more than beer and made a mental note to keep an eye on the guy at the worksite.

"Chrissakes, Britton, grow up!" growled Mike.

"Shut up, grandpaw," Steve responded. "Just cause you're so damn old it'd take a whole bottle of Viagara to get your motor running....."

The older man snorted. "I'm not the one with no woman. Maybe if you showed a little respect to the ladies you wouldn't have to keep your dick in your drawers all the time."

Jerry laughed and Steve turned disgustedly back to watching the game.

"So," Jerry leaned in confidentially toward Xander. "Girl stood you up?"

"It wasn't that kind of date, just some friends getting together, but I felt like going out."

"Sure. Sure. Look, I got a sister. You should meet her. She's a real nice girl and believe me I wouldn't line her up with just anybody, but I think you're a real straight up guy."

"Yeah. That's.....Maybe you could give me her number." Xander studied Jerry's earnest and butt-ugly face and thought the chances of his sister being even mildly attractive were pretty thin, but he took the scribbled napkin that his friend passed him.

"No, man." Steve jumped into the conversation. "Believe me, you don't want to go there. Not saying Holly's not a nice girl," he intercepted Jerry before he could protest. "But, Harris, you don't want a nice girl. You wanna get laid! Look around you. It's a big crowd. There's got to be somebody who'll take you home tonight and fix you up."

"Why the fuck is he sitting with us?" Mike glared at Steve. "Can someone tell me why we let this asshole hang around?"

"Come on, Big Mike. You were twenty-something once. Or can't you remember it? This is what we're supposed to do. This is the time of our lives. Sowing wild oats and living for the moment."

Xander could see the sense in that. You ARE only young once. Trouble was he didn't feel young. Hadn't felt young for the past five years or so. Facing possible world-ending threats could do that to you. And the last year alone had aged him considerably.

The other waitress arrived with his beer and he sucked it down in big, thirsty gulps.

The game was at the half so Steve could give them his full attention now. He fidgeted, peeling the label off his bottle, and continuing to scan the room.

"Big tits at 12 o'clock!" he announced. "Her friend is looking our way. She's looking at YOU, Harris. Quick. Make eye contact."

Curious despite himself, Xander ventured a quick glance at a nearby table. He sort of recognized the girl and gave her a brief nod and smile.

"We gotta order them a round," Steve said excitedly. "Get the waitress back."

"I'm gonna take a piss, then I'm going home," Mike interrupted. "I thought we were here to watch the game. But if I have to listen to Britton here yammer, I'd rather watch it in my La-Z-Boy."

"Where's Charlotte tonight?" Jerry asked.

"Baby shower. Look, I'll see you young studs at work on Monday. Don't get yourselves no social diseases. 'Night."

Xander watched Mike make his way out of the bar and when he turned back, the girl from the other table was right at his elbow.

"Hi. Remember me?" she asked, shyly.

"You....Oh sure. Of course I.....Nope. Not a clue," he admitted. "Your face is familiar but..."

"I get that a lot," she replied with a mild laugh. She held out her hand. "I'm Sophy. Remember? From Buffy's party last year. I'm her....well.....WAS her friend from work."

"Yeah! Sure. I remember. Um.....how've you been?"

She shrugged and sat down in the chair Mike had vacated. "All right. I don't work at the Doublemeat anymore, so that's good. I have a job at the morgue, cause, you know, I'm in beautician school and that's a really great way to practice. I do the hair and makeup and I've gotten quite a few compliments. People don't always notice my work, but it's really important, you know? I mean if it was done wrong you'd bet I'd get complaints."

"I'm sure," Xander agreed. "If you made Uncle Fred look like Aunt Milicent for example...." he laughed. Sophy stared.

"But I wouldn't do that," she said seriously. "Why would I want to do something like that?"

No sense of humor. Check.

"No of course not. That would be wrong."

"Hey, can you introduce me to your friend?" Steve couldn't keep silent a second longer.

"Sure. She's going with somebody, though." Sophy beckoned her friend and the Big-titted One sashayed over. Jerry gallantly vacated his seat for her and went to hunt up a new chair for himself.

"This is Marlee," Sophy said, "And this is....I'm sorry I've forgotten your name."

"Xander." He smiled politely at the girl, who scanned him up and down like a side of beef then dismissed him.

"I'm Steve." The stocky construction worker held out his hand. "And you're....heavenly." Xander rolled his eyes as Steve took Marlee's hand in his own. She stared down at their joined hands as if a bug had just crawled across her skin, and pulled away from him.

Sophy turned back to Xander. "So, what was it you do for a living again?"

"Construction. I'm a foreman at the new high school project."

"That's nice. I hope you're not using anything with asbestos cause, you know, that's really toxic."

"No. No asbestos. No one uses that kind of insulation anymore."

"Oh, well then, I hope you're not allergic to dust 'cause I bet there's all sorts of dust at a construction site. I'm allergic to dust. Also, pollens, dairy, and wheat."

"Nope. Not allergic to dust. Good thing," Xander said.

"My mother says I got my father's genes, 'cause everyone in his family is allergic to...oh, just about everything. We could never have a cat 'cause, you know, dander, and I'm afraid of dogs. This big dog bit me once. It left a scar. Wanna see? It's on my leg, here...."

"Huh," Xander stared at the offered leg, then began to look around for Jerry, who was still not back with another chair.

"That was a funny party at Buffy's house that night, wasn't it? It was sorta fun, but then, you know, it got kinda long. My mother was really mad when I got home, but I just told her it turned into a slumber party. She wanted to know if boys were there, but I said 'no'."

"Really?" he feigned interest.

"Yes. She said, 'Just call next time.' Does your mom say that to you, too? Oh wait. You live with that blond-haired girl, right? What was her name?"

"Anya. And not so much, anymore. We broke up."

"My brother broke up with his girlfriend, too. My mom says, he can't hold on to a girl cause he's a slacker like my dad, but I don't think that's true. My mom says.."

"Will you......will you excuse me for a second. I have to check on our friend." Xander practically bolted from the table, leaving Steve hitting on the yawning Marlee, and Sophy talking to no one in particular.

He found Jerry wedged in at the bar trying to order a drink.

"Hey," Xander tapped him on the shoulder. "Get me another, too, willya?"

He stood there, looking around, checking out the women, while Jerry tried in vain to get the bartender's attention. A perky redhead, chatting animatedly to her friend, caught his eye. 'What a cutie!' he thought, then suddenly realized it was because she reminded him of Willow and wondered what the hell THAT meant.

Xander's eye continued to rove 'til it suddenly snagged on a pair of dark eyes gazing seductively back at him. He gulped and turned abruptly away. Sharp dresser, but the guy definitely wasn't his type!

Jerry handed him a beer and leaned in to shout over the din, "You guys want me to take off? I don't want to mess up your action."

"No. No action. That girl was somebody I met at a party once. Kinda flaky. I'm not interested. Let's let Steve entertain those girls."

They stood for a moment, sipping their beers and looking for anyplace to sit in the now packed bar.

A large, laughing group pushed past their standing spot and one of the girls in it accidentally knocked into Xander and spilled her drink on his arm.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, sponging at his shirtsleeve with a tiny little napkin.

"It's okay," he answered. "No problem."

She smiled. "Well, let me at least buy you a drink or something to make up for it."

"Uh. That's.....You don't have to," he stammered.

"No, really. I feel like such a klutz."

"Tell you what," an idea occurred to Xander and he felt suddenly suave and clever. "Why don't you let me buy you a drink, instead, since your glass is kinda empty now. Then, if we can find someplace to sit, you can tell me about yourself."

"Oh...." The girl managed to frown and smile at the same time. "I'm sorry." She gestured toward her group, which had merged with another large group at the back of the bar. "I'm with someone. That's so sweet, though. Thanks for the thought!" Again she smiled, apologetically, then wove her way through the crowd to catch up with her friends.

"They're always 'already with someone'," Jerry said, wistfully, taking a long drink from his Coors, and gazing hopelessly at all the pretty girls. "Want to see if we can get in at one of the pool tables?"

"Sure," Xander agreed.

They found all the tables taken, unsurprisingly. After watching the other players knock the balls around for about twenty minutes, chatting about work and the other guys on the crew, both of them were really tired of standing.

"This place is just too crowded. Want to go to the Bronze?" Jerry asked. "I hear the band tonight is supposed to be really good."

Xander thought of all the time he'd spent there over the years; the crappy high school days of hitting on girls and failing miserably, and the good times with Buffy, Willow, Oz and even Cordy, then later, Anya. He didn't want to go there. It was a much younger crowd at the Bronze than this place and when he looked around it made him feel like a middle-aged perv scoping out the high school girls.

"Naw. I think I've had about as much nightlife as I can take for one evening," he declined. "Sorry to crap out on you, but I think I'll go home. You should go see how Steve is faring. Who knows? You might like that Sophie. She's a sweet girl."

"See ya tomorrow then," Jerry bid him goodbye. "And....remember to give my sister, Holly, a call. You two might hit it off."

Xander nodded. "Sure thing."

Driving home, he was grateful for the blessed silence of the car after the noisy bar. He didn't even turn on the radio. He thought about the evening and wondered if he should've just stayed at Buffy's and watched "Gladiator" again. Trouble was he just didn't fit in anywhere. He needed - wanted - guy pals, a nice girlfriend and a regular life, but it was way too late for that wasn't it?

He felt like Spiderman, but without any of the cool superpowers. Instead, he just had the big, untellable secret life that barred him from ever really sharing himself with a 'normal' girl. He had seen too much, done too much, to be able to sweep it under the rug and have a casual date with someone. 'Cause sure-as-shootin' he'd like the girl, want to go out with her again, start getting closer, and be stopped cold when he shared the gory glory of the truth about demons.

It was hard being the Slayer's right-hand.....well, let's face it, third-in- command. Sometimes he thought that isolation was the hardest part of the job, much harder than getting his ass regularly kicked by vamps and demons. But then, looking around that bar tonight, at all the people struggling to make a connection he thought that maybe loneliness was an inevitable part of the human condition.

As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, Xander briefly indulged in a favorite fantasy. He would open the door and SHE would be there, the one he had been searching for. Wearing only a sheet, long, bed-tousled hair tumbling over her shoulders, she would rise to greet him.

"What took you so long, sweetheart? I've been waiting." She would come to him and wrap her soft arms around him and murmur endearments in his ear. "Darling. Love." Then she would draw him, kiss by kiss, to the bedroom, help him remove his clothes and.

The key turned in the lock. The door opened on the dark, empty apartment.

He entered, tossed the keys on the table and his coat over a chair; kicked off his shoes; went to the fridge and stared at the vacancy within; grabbed an open can of Mountain Dew that had turned from soda to flat, sugary syrup; picked up the remote and turned on the TV; flopped on the couch and began scanning channels. Nothing on. Rummaged through his stack of videos and pulled out one with a faded cover and popped it into the VCR; thought again about getting a DVD player and a brand, spanking new copy of the movie which was beginning to play. It was more-or-less near the beginning where he'd been interrupted last time, so he didn't bother to rewind, but settled back on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table and watched, lips moving along with the dialog.

"Bring out your dead. Bring out your dead," one of the Pythons, Eric Idle?, called as he wheeled his cart.

Xander chuckled at the exchange between the man with his grandpa slung over one shoulder and the deathcart guy. Soon he was quoting along with grandpa.. "I'm not quite dead yet. I'm getting better!"

"I'm getting better."

"I'm happy. Happ-eeeeee!"

END