Xander knew this was a bad idea, but Spike insisted on drowning his
sorrows. Initially, Spike had been a rock for Buffy following Dawn's death,
but since yesterday (after the funeral Xander thought) it was clear that he
had as much grief to work through as anyone. With Buffy in LA and Willow in
Cleveland researching, the task of consoling/watching Spike fell to him.
Even with his soul, Xander felt Spike needed to be watched carefully given
his current emotional state. He was right.
Xander heard the commotion behind him, but could do little to avoid being knocked off of his stool, spilling his beer in the process.
Xander regained his footing and looked at the burly man who had crashed into him. He was the type you didn't want to run into in a dark alley; 6'4", 300lbs of angry biker with a bushy beard. He never had a chance.
"Stay down," Xander warned him.
The biker ignored his warning and struggled back to his feet. He glared at Spike who had already turned his back and was lighting a cigarette. He reached beneath his leather jacket and unsheathed a wicked looking Bowie knife and charged Spike, pushing Xander aside.
Spike sidestepped the attack and drove his foot into the back of the biker's knee forcing him to the ground. A swift kick to his wrist sent the knife upward and out of his hand. Spike caught the blade effortlessly and brought it down in a deadly arc, stopping the blow mere inches from the biker's throat.
Spike held the blade there, his hand shaking under the obvious strain of his self control.
"Get out," he hissed, "before I bloody well come to my senses."
The shaken biker struggled to his feet and headed for the door giving Spike a wide berth.
"Hey," Spike yelled at him, "you forgot something."
Spike didn't bother to turn and face him. He gracefully tossed the knife over his shoulder embedding it in the door frame, narrowly missing the biker's hand. The biker looked at it momentarily and decided that he didn't really want it anymore. He disappeared quickly through the door.
"Can't even get a good scrap in this 'burb," Spike muttered.
The bartender eyed him warily as Spike took a seat next to Xander at the bar.
"I'm not trying to cause any trouble here," the bartender stammered, "but you can't go roughin' up paying customers like that. I need the business"
"I'm sorry," Xander interrupted, "it won't happen again. Let me give you a little something extra for your --"
"Bugger that," Spike exclaimed, "that wanker started it. I'm not some tosser he can bully around, you know."
"I never said you were," the bartender replied, "I just need to know that there aren't going to be anymore problems."
"There won't be," Xander assured him, "Let me get a round for the house. A shot for everybody."
The bartender relaxed and moved to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels. He filled two shot glasses and replaced Xander's beer. The clinking of glass continued as he filled the other patrons' shot glasses with the spirit of their choice.
"What are we drinking to, friend?" he asked.
"Dawn," Xander replied softly.
"To Lil Bit," Spike added, his voice cracking slightly.
They all raised their glasses. Xander and Spike wiped their eyes after draining their shots. The bartender suspected the tears weren't caused by the liquor.
End Chapter Three
Xander heard the commotion behind him, but could do little to avoid being knocked off of his stool, spilling his beer in the process.
Xander regained his footing and looked at the burly man who had crashed into him. He was the type you didn't want to run into in a dark alley; 6'4", 300lbs of angry biker with a bushy beard. He never had a chance.
"Stay down," Xander warned him.
The biker ignored his warning and struggled back to his feet. He glared at Spike who had already turned his back and was lighting a cigarette. He reached beneath his leather jacket and unsheathed a wicked looking Bowie knife and charged Spike, pushing Xander aside.
Spike sidestepped the attack and drove his foot into the back of the biker's knee forcing him to the ground. A swift kick to his wrist sent the knife upward and out of his hand. Spike caught the blade effortlessly and brought it down in a deadly arc, stopping the blow mere inches from the biker's throat.
Spike held the blade there, his hand shaking under the obvious strain of his self control.
"Get out," he hissed, "before I bloody well come to my senses."
The shaken biker struggled to his feet and headed for the door giving Spike a wide berth.
"Hey," Spike yelled at him, "you forgot something."
Spike didn't bother to turn and face him. He gracefully tossed the knife over his shoulder embedding it in the door frame, narrowly missing the biker's hand. The biker looked at it momentarily and decided that he didn't really want it anymore. He disappeared quickly through the door.
"Can't even get a good scrap in this 'burb," Spike muttered.
The bartender eyed him warily as Spike took a seat next to Xander at the bar.
"I'm not trying to cause any trouble here," the bartender stammered, "but you can't go roughin' up paying customers like that. I need the business"
"I'm sorry," Xander interrupted, "it won't happen again. Let me give you a little something extra for your --"
"Bugger that," Spike exclaimed, "that wanker started it. I'm not some tosser he can bully around, you know."
"I never said you were," the bartender replied, "I just need to know that there aren't going to be anymore problems."
"There won't be," Xander assured him, "Let me get a round for the house. A shot for everybody."
The bartender relaxed and moved to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels. He filled two shot glasses and replaced Xander's beer. The clinking of glass continued as he filled the other patrons' shot glasses with the spirit of their choice.
"What are we drinking to, friend?" he asked.
"Dawn," Xander replied softly.
"To Lil Bit," Spike added, his voice cracking slightly.
They all raised their glasses. Xander and Spike wiped their eyes after draining their shots. The bartender suspected the tears weren't caused by the liquor.
End Chapter Three