The neon sign is brightly lit outside of Al's. Many people and creatures of the night converge on the entrance, where music and laughter pour out onto the street. Even before they enter, the patrons can hear the orchestra doing a rocking cover of a Nerf Herder song.
From outside, Al's seems like an ordinary and ramshackle juice bar, but inside it is obviously an expensive and chic juice bar, possessing a cloak of intrigue and sophistication. All kinds of different demons and people are mixed together. Some of the humans are in glittering gowns. Some of the demons simply glitter. Native Moroccans are in silks and fezzes. There are Levantines, Mocha demons, naval officers, even a vampire or two.
At a table two women, a red-head and a blond, talk quietly but urgently. "Tara," the redhead says, "this awful Slayer spell side-effect is killing me. I'll never get out here!
I'm forever stuck playing a bunch of minor characters in this stupid story."
"W-w-well, I did get better, so I'll call that an upside" replied Tara tartly. Her sympathy for Willow's predicament is in short supply.
Sympathy throughout Casablanca is in short supply.
Over by the bar, Andrew, the friendly juice-tender, gives a Cucumber-Kumquat Kooler to an Englishman.
Willow, now playing the head waiter, goes to a private door guarded by Darla. "Huh?" confused, as she sees the new game room bouncer.
"Yeah, yeah, I got better. It's a thing."
Willow, now resigned to her lot in this story, just shrugs her shoulders. "Well then, Darla, open up."
"Ooo! you like it in public, do you?" Darla leers lecherously.
Willow rolls her eyes, "I mean the door, you undead 'ho!"
"Oh, yes, Ms. High and Mighty Witch," she snarks, but she opens the door anyway, allowing Willow to enter the game room.
There is much play and excitement in the game room.
A woman calls over to Willow. "Oh, Willow!"
"Yes, Madame?"
"Will you ask Al if he'll have a drink with us?"
"Madame, he never drinks with customers. Never. I have never seen him."
The first woman's companion breaks in, "What makes juice bar owners so snobbish!"
Riley, the pompous man with the two woman, responds to Willow, "Perhaps if you told him I'm the second tallest man in Amsterdam-"
Willow interrupts him imperiously, "The second tallest? That wouldn't impress. The tallest is now the pastry chef in our kitchen."
"We have something to look forward to," replies Riley dryly.
And Willow laughs some more, "And his father is the bellboy!"
Tara, now playing the game room overseer, goes over to a far table, with paper in hand. A man is sitting there, deep in shadow, a Cherry-Lima Bean Cooler on the table. His hands are laid flat on either side of the glass. Tara hands him the paper, whereupon he writes "OK, Al" on it. She takes it away as Xander resumes his game of solitary tic-tac-toe. His face is expressionless as he ponders O's next move against X's use of the famous 'put your X in the middle' strategy.
A commotion by the game room door causes him to look up. He nods a curt OK to Darla, allowing a player to enter. A slayer appears at the door and he shakes his head no to Darla, who starts to close the door.
"I'm sorry, this is a private room." Darla explains to the intrusive slayer.
The slayer is miffed, "Of all the nerve! I know there are Play Stations in there. It's no secret. You dare not keep me out!" She tries to push her way through as Xander walks up.
"Yes? What's the trouble?" he asks coldly.
"This slayer-"
"I've been in every game room from Honolulu to Brighton, and if you think I"m going to be kept out of a place like this you're very mistaken."
Doyle, a small, thin and nervous half-man, half-demon, tries to squeeze through the knot of people at the door. "Em, excuse me please. Oh, Cheers, Alex!"
"Hi Doyle-Waitaminute! I heard you died heroically, way back when!"
"I got better."
"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around it seems," he says sardonically. "Well...okay then, go on in."
Xander focuses back on the slayer, takes the card from her and tears it up. "Your tokens are good at the bar."
The slayer is outraged. "What! Do you know who I am?"
"I do. You're lucky the bar is open to you."
"This is outrageous, I shall report this to the Council!" as she storms off.
Xander returns to the table to pick up his game. Doyle saunters over. "Y'know, Alex, watchin' ya now with that slayer there, one might be thinkin' you've been doin' this all yer life."
Xander's response is frigid. "What makes you think I haven't?" ice water dripping from his voice.
"Ah, nothin'. But when you first came to Casablanca here, I'm thinkin'-"
"You thought what?" icicles now dangling from his voice, his hours of arduous practice with a meat freezer now finally paying off.
Doyle laughs nervously, "What right do I have to think?" He pulls up a chair to sit down at the table. "May I? Too bad about those two slayer lackeys, wasn't it?"
"They got a lucky break. Yesterday they were just two lackeys. Now they're the 'honored dead'."
"You are a very cynical person, Alex, if you'll forgive me fer sayin'."
"You're forgiven."
A waiter places a Banana Manna Mushroom Cooler before Doyle, "Thank you." Turning back to Xander, he replies. "Will ya be havin' a drink with me?"
"No."
"Ah, I forget. You never drink with..." Instead of finishing his sentence he changes subjects. "You despise me, don't you?"
"If I gave you any thought I probably would."
"But why? Oh, you object to the kind of business I do? Ah, but think o' all those good refugees who must rot in this place if I didn't help them. Right, that's not so bad now.
Through ways o' me own I provide them exit talismans."
"For a price, Doyle, for a price."
"But think o' the poor devils who cannot meet Spike's price. I'm chargin' only half. Is that so parasitic?"
"I don't mind a parasite. I mind a cut-rate one."
"Well, Alex, my boy, after tonight I'll be through with the whole business, and I am leaving finally this Casablanca!"
"Who did you bribe for your talisman? Spike or yourself?"
"Me-self! I found me-self much more reasonable." He lays an envelope down on the table. "C'mere, Alex, do you know what this is? Something even you have never seen. Talisman's of Transit, blessed by the High Coven. They cannot be rescinded, not even questioned. Tonight I'll be selling those for more money than even I have ever dreamed, and then, addio Casablanca! Y'know, Alex, I have many friends in Casablanca, but somehow, just because you despise me you're the only one I trust. Will you keep these for me? Please?"
"For how long?"
"Perhaps an hour, perhaps a little longer, right?"
"I don't want them here overnight."
"Oh, No need to be afraid o' that. Keep them for me. I know I can trust you."
After considering for a few moments Xander does indeed take the talismans. As Doyle prepares to leave a waiter comes up. Doyle speaks to the waiter. "I'll be expectin' some demons. If anybody goes askin' for me I'll be right here."
"Yes, monsieur"
Doyle turns back to Xander, "I hope you are more impressed with me now? Now, If you'll be forgiven me I'll be sharin' my good luck with your PacMan game."
Xander gets up from the table to follow Doyle, "Just a moment." Doyle stops and looks back. "Yeah, I heard a rumor those lackeys were carrying talismans of transit."
Doyle does an appallingly bad impression of someone who doesn't know what's going on. "I heard o' that rumor too, most intrestin'. Poor bastards."
Xander looks at Doyle steadily. "Yes, you're right. I am a little more impressed with you," he finally says. He swivels on his heel and leaves for the main room.
Giles is playing an acoustic guitar while Lorne is singing a rocking cover of "They Built This City on Rock and Roll". The spotlight going from the musical pair to orchestra and back. Xander makes his way behind Giles. While the spotlight is on the orchestra he slips the envelope into the guitar's sound hole. Somehow, incredibly, nobody, not even Giles,
notices.
Xander begins to head back to his office when Faith, the new owner of the Blue Suede Shoe, comes in and sits down. She watches her ex-boytoy as he crosses the room. They both smile as Xander spots her and she goes over to the bar to talk to him.
"Hey, X!" she smirks.
"Hello, Faith. It's good to know you finally saw the light and got out of Buffy's little army. Though I have to admit being the owner of a frozen yogurt shop really threw me there for awhile. How's business at the Shoe?"
"Five by five, y'know. But I would like to buy your little juice bar."
"It's not for sale," Xander says as flatly as a Kansas wheat field.
"You haven't heard my offer."
"It's not for sale at any price," he says, his voice now as flat as a Kansas City Pool Hall table.
"What do you want for Giles and Lorne?"
"I don't buy or sell human beings. Or horny demons, either" his voice finally as flat as Fred.
"That's too bad. That's Casablanca's leading commodity. In refugees alone we would make a fortune if you would work with me through the black market."
"Suppose you run your business and let me run mine," he sighs.
"Suppose we ask them. Maybe they'd like a change."
"Suppose we do."
"X-man, when will you realize in today's world isolationism is no longer a practical policy?"
Startled, he asks, "When the hell did you start using words like isolationism, Faith?"
"I dunno. Just seemed like the right thing to say."
They approach Giles and Lorne, whereupon Xander asks the duo, "Giles, Lorne, Faith wants you to work for her at the Blue Suede Shoe."
Giles is first to reply, "We like it fine here."
"He'll double what I pay you guys."
This time Lorne responds, "Yeah, but we ain't got time to spend the money we make here, my blueberry Poptart."
Xander turns back to Faith, "Sorry."
Faith is satisfied, "Hey, no problems, X, I'm five-by-five" and she walks away, hips rocking like a dinghy in a hurricane.
An attractive blond woman is now sitting at the bar, drinking an Apple-Peanut Butter Blast. Andrew, who has a crush on her, refills her glass. "The boss's private stock,
because Anya, I love you."
"Oh, shut up, you little monkey turd."
"All right, all right. For you, Anya, I shut up, because, Anya, I love you." He glances over as Xander comes to the bar, "Uh oh..."
Xander has come up next to Anya, but pays no attention to her. He hasn't even recognized her yet. She looks bitterly at him.
"Xander, Xander," Andrew calls, "Some slayers, boom boom boom, give this check. Is it all right?" Xander takes at it and tears it up.
Anya has not taken her eyes off him the whole time. "Where were you last night?"
Whirling in shocked surprise, Xander grabs the edge of the bar to steady himself, making sure he is calm and collected before replying. He then does his refrigerator routine so that he's also as cool as an Amana side-by-side.
"That's so long ago I don't remember. And besides, I thought you were dead." he says coolly, doing the entire refrigeration industry proud.
"I got better. Group discount rate. Deal with it. Will I see you tonight?"
"I never make plans that far ahead."
She turns to Andrew, "Give me another Blast," then turning nasty, adds, "at least they're better than his orgasms!"
"Andrew, she's had enough."
"Don't listen to him Andrew, fill me-err, it, fill it up."
"Anya, I love you, but he pays me."
She's furious. "Xander, I'm sick and tired of you-"
"Andrew, call a cab," he interrupts.
"Yes, boss," and he comes around the bar and goes outside to call a taxi.
"Come on, we're going to get your coat."
Scowling, "Take your hands off me!" she demands. Then she pleads, "Unless you're going to give me an orgasm?"
"No, you're going home, You've had too much to drink."
Andrew stands outside and signals for a cab. One pulls up at the same time Xander and Anya come out. Xander puts the coat over her but she reacts violently, "Who do you think you are, pushing me around? What a fool I was to fall for a man like you!"
"You'd better go with her, Andrew, to make sure she gets home."
"Yes boss."
"And come right back."
"Yes boss," obviously disappointed.
Andrew leaves with Anya as Xander watches soberly. After their taxi has disappeared Xander looks up, as the strobing light from the airport beacon flashes dramatically across his face.
Spike, who has been sitting quietly on the terrace by the entrance the whole time, speaks up, "'ello, Alex."
Xander walks over before responding. "Hello, Spike." He's since long gotten over Spike's Shanshu and can speak easily with him now. "I'm glad you kept the hair. Reminds me of how much I used to hate you. Good times!"
"Why do you keep calling me that?" Spike whines, but receives no answer. Shaking his head he continues, "Oui, oui, it is a difficult extravagance, what with ze price of peroxide in these parts. But, 'ow extravagant you are, throwing away women like that. Someday they may be scarce."
Xander sits next to him as Spike continues. "You know, I think now I shall pay a call on Anya, catch 'er on ze rebound, eh?"
"Just like last time, huh?" Xanders says in a voice devoid of any emotion. He's long since gotten over that incident.
Confused, Spike utters, "huh?"
"Never mind. When it comes to women, you're a true democrat."
They both look up as another magic carpet takes off from the airport. Spike eyes it carefully. "Ze carpet to Lisbon. You'd like to be on it, no?"
"Why? What's in Lisbon?" Xander asks sharply.
"The way to America, my dear Alex, then onto ze free Pylean dimension." Xander appears to be unhappy as Spike rambles on. "I 'ave often speculated on why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with ze Council funds? Did you run off with a Slayer's girlfriend? I like to think you killed a man, it's ze romantic in me."
Xander, wistfully looking at the airport now, says, "A combination of all three."
"And what in 'eavon's name brought you to Casablanca?"
"My health. I came for the waters."
"Waters? What waters? we're in ze middle of ze desert!"
"I was mis-informed. What are you doing here?"
"I don't 'onestly know. I just woke up one day, 'ere in Casablanca, with this 'orrible French accent, even though I think I'm actually British. I can't even say 'bugger'
properly! And I am ze Chief of Police."
At that moment, Tara, the game room master, comes out, "Excuse me, Xander, but a gentleman inside has won 20,000 points. The cashier would like some more cheap plastic toys made by southeast Asian child slave labor to pay him off."
Xander rises, "I'll get some from the safe."
"I'm so upset, Xander. You know I can't understand-"
Magnanimously, Xander pats her encouragingly on the shoulder, "Forget it, Tara. Mistakes like that happen all the time."
"I am awfully sorry."
Spike joins them and the three re-enter the cafe, passing by Giles and Lorne, who are now doing a rocking rendition of Merle Haggard's "Okie from Muskogee." Xander pats them on the shoulder encouragingly, using up his quota of enouraging gestures for the day.
Spike speaks to Xander as they continue across the crowded room, "Alex, there's going to be some excitement 'ere tonight. We are going to make an arrest in your bar."
"Again?" Xander asks peevishly.
"This is no ordinary arrest. A murderer, no less."
Xander involuntarily glances toward the game room. Spike catches the look. "If you're thinking of warning 'im, don't put yourself out. 'Ee cannot possibly escape."
Xander replies quickly and firmly. "I stick my neck out for nobody."
"A wise foreign policy," agrees Spike.
All three continue up the stairs to the office. Once there, Xander moves over to the safe. Spike just keeps on yakking. "You know, Alex, we could 'ave made zis arrest earlier this evening at ze Blue Suede Shoe, but out of my 'igh regard for you we're staging it 'ere. It will amuse your customers."
"Our entertainment is enough," growls Xander.
"Alex, we are to 'ave an important guest tonight. Buffy, of the Slayer Army, no less. We want 'er to be 'ere when we make ze arrest. A little demonstration of ze efficiency of my administration."
"I see. And what's Buffy doing here? She certainly didn't come all the way to Casablanca to witness a demonstration of your efficiency. Although she might be here to ride you like a wild stallion again. It's a good thing for my sanity you can't remember any of that. It'd be even better if I couldn't remember any of it either."
Xander retrieves a pile of cheap genuine slave labor toys,
and gives them to Tara, "Here you are," he says gently.
"It won't happen again, Xander."
"Hey, don't sweat it, Tara. It happens."
They all head out of the office and back down to the main room. Tara goes to the cashier, while Xander and Spike go over to the bar.
"Spike, you've got something on your mind. Spill it."
"'Ow observant you are. As a matter of fact I wanted to give you a word of advice."
"Yeah? Here, have an Orange-Kosher Dill Musher."
"Thank you. Alex, there are many exit spells sold in this bar, but we know that you 'ave never sold one. Zat is ze reason we permit you to remain open."
"And I thought it was because we let you win at DonkeyKong" observes Xander ironically.
"That is another reason. There is a person who 'as arrived in Casablanca on 'is way to America. 'Ee will offer a fortune to anyone who will furnish 'eem with an exit spell."
"Yeah? What's his name?"
"Liam o'McGonigle."
"Angel!" blurts Xander, in a low voice.
