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Xander stared into the kitchen from Hell, and briefly wondered if perhaps Buffy had actually failed to keep the evil from escaping the Hellmouth, just once. Just a little. And then maybe it had come here.
Because this was evil.
"Aren't women supposed to be cleaner than guys?" He asked.
Claire, who was sitting down wiping sweat off her forehead, shook her head. "It's a myth." She said.
"Like the myth that girls at a strip-show are scary?"
"No, that's true." Said Claire. She glared at him. "How'd you get this far behind on dishes?"
"They just kept coming back. . .and I fought them as long as I could, till one of them rallied. The little one with the peas shaped like Lawrence of Arabia." He pointed it out on the mountain. "It led the others in a revolt. I was powerless."
Claire chuckled. "Okay, you're forgiven, provided you stay late enough to clean all this up."
Xander snuck a glance at the clock. "It's one in the morning now." He noted.
"Not a night person?" She asked.
He snorted. "Well, aside from the summer that I was out every night, patrolling, yeah, I pretty much like my sleep."
"Patrolling?"
"Er. . .it was a club." He said it with a straight face, but felt his eye twitch.
She gave him an odd look. "Club, right. Are you seeing anyone, Xander?"
He gave a little laugh. "Was. Past tense."
"So this is your big coming of age adventure?" She asked.
"It's my big get out of the house adventure." Corrected Xander. He picked up a filthy plate and stuck it under a faucet. "Now, about that place to stay. . ."
"Ricky!" Yelled Claire, making Xander jump. He just managed to keep from fumbling the plate, keeping it one piece. He considered that a victory, in his current state of mind.
Ricky wandered in, wearing only a thong. "Good crowd today." He said cheerfully, plucking a fifty out of his waistband. He was facing Claire, with his back to Xander, who briefly considered smashing the plate to get small glass shards large enough to scoop his eyes out.
"Xander needs a place to stay." Said Claire.
"Oh." Said Ricky, glancing at Xander. "Is he a dancer?"
Xander shook his head, keeping his eyes on the buildup of food on the plates he was washing.
Ricky turned to Claire. "Well, I could use the help on my rent money. But I don't want him bringing home any of his boyfriends, okay? My girl will have a hard enough time with this as it is."
Xander started choking. Ricky slapped him on the back. "I'll go get changed. I'm parked out front, so you can meet me there." He said cheerfully.
Xander glared at Claire. "What?" He said.
"Well, you were staring at his butt." Said Claire. "Doing a very good job of covering. Too good. Besides, what kind of guy would come to work as a dishwasher at a strip club where guys wander around the kitchen in thongs?"
Xander turned his glare to the dishes. "I better be getting a lot of money for this." He muttered.
**
Ricky opened the door, letting light flow in. The rising dust caught the light, creating a bright halo around the porch.
"This is my place." Said the dancer cheerfully.
Xander examined the blonde's apartment. "Uh, nice." He said.
"It's the black hole of Calcutta." Said Ricky, stepping inside. Xander followed him, glaring at the ratty couch, the peeling walls, and the kitchen. Especially the kitchen.
Well, at least there was no stack of dirty dishes. Just grime, grime, and more grime.
"Now, I pay 250 a month for this place." Xander stared at Ricky, who shrugged. "It's a rattrap, and it's probably illegal. I know. I expect you to chip in at least two hundred a month."
"That's most of your rent money!" Squealed Xander. Ricky nodded.
"But I'll cover groceries!" He said cheerfully.
Xander considered the odds that he actually would cover anything. He decided that bad as it was, it was probably cheaper than any other deal he could make. "Sure." He said with a sigh.
Ricky bounced into the bedroom. "You can have the couch!" He yelled cheerfully.
Xander stared at the grimy, greasy, filthy thing that Ricky had so casually blasphemed into a couch. "Gee, thanks." He muttered, dropping his bag on the floor. He heard a shower start up and sighed, sitting on the couch.
Well, at least he was having an adventure.
There was a knock at the door, and he went to get it. He opened it, revealing a redhead who was scowling. For a second the red hair caused a twinge in his stomach, but it was shorter than Willow's hair, and a little drabber. It was attached to a pale girl who was a lot skinnier than Willow, and who stared at him.
"You're not Ricky." She said.
Before he could reply that Ricky was in the shower, she whipped out a can of something and pointed it at his eyes. The mist that struck him square in the eyes felt a little like an acid bath, and the shriek of pain he let out was rivaled only by the shriek he let out when she kicked him firmly in the crotch.
"You rat!" She screamed. "He wasn't that behind on the rent! You rat!"
As he fell she began kicking at the softer areas of his body. He was now effectively blind and couldn't block, only cowering under the onslaught. The pain was, well, was like he was being attacked by a pack of vampires. A horde of demons. The hellmouth itself.
It really hurt.
"Hey, babe, he's okay." Said a voice from the door.
"Ricky, baby!" The girlfriend walked over Xander, planting one last kick in his kidneys, walking by him to her boyfriend.
Xander moaned, rubbing his eyes. They were on fire.
"Shower's free." Said Ricky sympathetically.
**
Later, lying on the couch listening to the giggles and cooing noises coming from the bedroom, Xander realized that he was miserable. The realization, oddly, felt a little exhilarating.
He could imagine the conversation now. "Hey, Cordy, I can get miserable without your help!" No, no, that was a bit much. "Hey, Cordy, you can't make me as miserable as I was on my roadtrip!" No, no, too much of a dare. Then she'd have to try.
Still, it was hard to imagine sinking to a lower point than this.
**
A/N: Well, in the next chapter, Xander sinks to a lower point than this. And this is before he dances, right? Now, the next couple of chapters WILL have some all-but-AU speculation about what might have happened.
Xander stared into the kitchen from Hell, and briefly wondered if perhaps Buffy had actually failed to keep the evil from escaping the Hellmouth, just once. Just a little. And then maybe it had come here.
Because this was evil.
"Aren't women supposed to be cleaner than guys?" He asked.
Claire, who was sitting down wiping sweat off her forehead, shook her head. "It's a myth." She said.
"Like the myth that girls at a strip-show are scary?"
"No, that's true." Said Claire. She glared at him. "How'd you get this far behind on dishes?"
"They just kept coming back. . .and I fought them as long as I could, till one of them rallied. The little one with the peas shaped like Lawrence of Arabia." He pointed it out on the mountain. "It led the others in a revolt. I was powerless."
Claire chuckled. "Okay, you're forgiven, provided you stay late enough to clean all this up."
Xander snuck a glance at the clock. "It's one in the morning now." He noted.
"Not a night person?" She asked.
He snorted. "Well, aside from the summer that I was out every night, patrolling, yeah, I pretty much like my sleep."
"Patrolling?"
"Er. . .it was a club." He said it with a straight face, but felt his eye twitch.
She gave him an odd look. "Club, right. Are you seeing anyone, Xander?"
He gave a little laugh. "Was. Past tense."
"So this is your big coming of age adventure?" She asked.
"It's my big get out of the house adventure." Corrected Xander. He picked up a filthy plate and stuck it under a faucet. "Now, about that place to stay. . ."
"Ricky!" Yelled Claire, making Xander jump. He just managed to keep from fumbling the plate, keeping it one piece. He considered that a victory, in his current state of mind.
Ricky wandered in, wearing only a thong. "Good crowd today." He said cheerfully, plucking a fifty out of his waistband. He was facing Claire, with his back to Xander, who briefly considered smashing the plate to get small glass shards large enough to scoop his eyes out.
"Xander needs a place to stay." Said Claire.
"Oh." Said Ricky, glancing at Xander. "Is he a dancer?"
Xander shook his head, keeping his eyes on the buildup of food on the plates he was washing.
Ricky turned to Claire. "Well, I could use the help on my rent money. But I don't want him bringing home any of his boyfriends, okay? My girl will have a hard enough time with this as it is."
Xander started choking. Ricky slapped him on the back. "I'll go get changed. I'm parked out front, so you can meet me there." He said cheerfully.
Xander glared at Claire. "What?" He said.
"Well, you were staring at his butt." Said Claire. "Doing a very good job of covering. Too good. Besides, what kind of guy would come to work as a dishwasher at a strip club where guys wander around the kitchen in thongs?"
Xander turned his glare to the dishes. "I better be getting a lot of money for this." He muttered.
**
Ricky opened the door, letting light flow in. The rising dust caught the light, creating a bright halo around the porch.
"This is my place." Said the dancer cheerfully.
Xander examined the blonde's apartment. "Uh, nice." He said.
"It's the black hole of Calcutta." Said Ricky, stepping inside. Xander followed him, glaring at the ratty couch, the peeling walls, and the kitchen. Especially the kitchen.
Well, at least there was no stack of dirty dishes. Just grime, grime, and more grime.
"Now, I pay 250 a month for this place." Xander stared at Ricky, who shrugged. "It's a rattrap, and it's probably illegal. I know. I expect you to chip in at least two hundred a month."
"That's most of your rent money!" Squealed Xander. Ricky nodded.
"But I'll cover groceries!" He said cheerfully.
Xander considered the odds that he actually would cover anything. He decided that bad as it was, it was probably cheaper than any other deal he could make. "Sure." He said with a sigh.
Ricky bounced into the bedroom. "You can have the couch!" He yelled cheerfully.
Xander stared at the grimy, greasy, filthy thing that Ricky had so casually blasphemed into a couch. "Gee, thanks." He muttered, dropping his bag on the floor. He heard a shower start up and sighed, sitting on the couch.
Well, at least he was having an adventure.
There was a knock at the door, and he went to get it. He opened it, revealing a redhead who was scowling. For a second the red hair caused a twinge in his stomach, but it was shorter than Willow's hair, and a little drabber. It was attached to a pale girl who was a lot skinnier than Willow, and who stared at him.
"You're not Ricky." She said.
Before he could reply that Ricky was in the shower, she whipped out a can of something and pointed it at his eyes. The mist that struck him square in the eyes felt a little like an acid bath, and the shriek of pain he let out was rivaled only by the shriek he let out when she kicked him firmly in the crotch.
"You rat!" She screamed. "He wasn't that behind on the rent! You rat!"
As he fell she began kicking at the softer areas of his body. He was now effectively blind and couldn't block, only cowering under the onslaught. The pain was, well, was like he was being attacked by a pack of vampires. A horde of demons. The hellmouth itself.
It really hurt.
"Hey, babe, he's okay." Said a voice from the door.
"Ricky, baby!" The girlfriend walked over Xander, planting one last kick in his kidneys, walking by him to her boyfriend.
Xander moaned, rubbing his eyes. They were on fire.
"Shower's free." Said Ricky sympathetically.
**
Later, lying on the couch listening to the giggles and cooing noises coming from the bedroom, Xander realized that he was miserable. The realization, oddly, felt a little exhilarating.
He could imagine the conversation now. "Hey, Cordy, I can get miserable without your help!" No, no, that was a bit much. "Hey, Cordy, you can't make me as miserable as I was on my roadtrip!" No, no, too much of a dare. Then she'd have to try.
Still, it was hard to imagine sinking to a lower point than this.
**
A/N: Well, in the next chapter, Xander sinks to a lower point than this. And this is before he dances, right? Now, the next couple of chapters WILL have some all-but-AU speculation about what might have happened.