Chapter VIII: Night out.
He's nervous. Nervous and edgy. He can tell it, and he loathes himself for it. This whole thing has become more like a routine than anything else, yet every single time he walks into the alley, he falls ever more closer to having a stroke. He rubs his hands together expectantly, sporadically releasing warm puffs of air into them as he peers through the darkness that cloths the rat-infested alleyway.
He pulls his cream-colored raincoat over his shoulders and looks into his wrist-watch. Three past ten. He's late, which considering his personality, is almost to be expected. But he's been standing there for twenty minutes, and there is only so much that he can handle. The air feels thick from humidity, yet oddly cold. His pant-legs are soaked near the shoes and his coat feels increasingly heavy.
He puts his hands inside his coat's pockets and rears his head towards both sides, anxiously expecting his quarry to arrive. He leans back against the wet wooden door behind him and shuts his eyes with a relenting sigh. "Figures," he whispers to himself in frustration.
"What?" a soft, yet rasping voice replies beside him. Xander jumps back to his feet startled. A red-faced demon with long, black hair looks at him inquisitively. He's wearing dark-colored trench-coat and he's holding a leather-bound bag in his right hand.
"Jesus, man!" scoffs a bewildered Xander. "Don't do that!"
"Do what?" the demon retorts. He stares at Xander incredulously, then looks at his own self, puzzled if his appearance is the cause of his distraught.
"Puff out of thin air like you're freaking Houdini," replies a somewhat bothered Xander. "Is it too much to ask to make some casual noises prior to showing up in my face from out of nowhere?"
"Like what?"
"I dunno!" shoots back Xander, while scratching the back of his head nervously. "Kick an empty can, or jingle some keys."
"I don't have keys, man. I'm freakin' Nightcrawler, but--"
"But with better hair and no religious dilemmas, I know," he mockingly interrupts the demon.
"Yeah, well, I'm here now," responds the demon with a hint of shame in the timber of his voice. "Do you want the papers, or what?"
"What do you think!" Xander answers back annoyed.
"Hey! Not cool, man! I'm missing a Friends marathon for this, dude! Ross and Rachel were about to get back together, and you guys don't pay me enough for TiVo so I have to settle for the basic stuff."
"I- I'm sorry, man. I've... I was out-of-line."
"Alright, man. Apology accepted." He puts his hand inside his bag and pulls out a file. "Here you go, man."
Xander takes it and flips it open, perusing through the loose paper sheets. The demon closes back his bag and looks at Xander expectantly. "Need anything else?" he asks him impatiently.
Xander raises his gaze from the pages lost in thoughts. "What?" he quickly responds. The demon looks at him with both his eyebrows raised. "Oh!" Xander realizes. He searches inside his coat's pockets and pulls out a closed letter envelope and hands it over the gleeful demon. "Sorry, man," he apologizes.
"Nah! Don't sweat it," he replies appreciatively as he tucks the envelope back inside one of his coat's pockets. "Later, dude."
He turns around and walks away. Xander closes the file and looks at him inquisitively. "Hey, Chris..." he shouts to him.
The demon turns around fast and gestures with his arms as to why he called him back. "How's Emma?" Xander continues. "Haven't seen her at the Café in over a month."
"Yeah, she told me she stopped going there."
"Really? Well, then, tell her I said hi when you get back, alright?"
"If wishes were horses, man."
"What? What do you mean?"
Chris looks over his shoulder behind and walks towards Xander again. He scratches his chin and releases an exasperated sigh. "It's just that... well her boss has her working late almost every night, man. I mean, you should see how messed up she looks when she gets home. Hair and make-up's a mess, and she's always exhausted. Plus, the hours she puts on weekends? She's never home anymore, dude."
"Have you tried talking to her?"
"I did. I have. I even once stayed up all night till she got home. Lit candles all over the apartment and that freaking George Michael song she loves so much."
"I want your sex?" asks Xander bewildered.
"Don't I wish," scoffs Chris reluctantly. "No. Not that one. Anyways, that's not the point. I figured it'd be easier to coax her into talking to me in a more romantic setting. So, you know what she told me?"
"What?"
"Not tonight, honey. I promise I'll have sex with you tomorrow. Then off to bed."
"You think she's cheating on you with her boss?"
"Nah, that can't be it."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Cause her boss is this totally hot up-and-coming chick named Lynn."
Xander's eyes grow with surprise. He chokes up for a second and gestures Chris to wait until he can collect himself. "Anyways,I gotta thank you again for introducing us, man. 'Cause, frankly, I don't have the faintest clue about what I'd do without her."
Xander coughs. "No problem..."
"Look, catch-up's been great, but I gotta run. Those crazy blokes at Central Perk ain't gonna wait for me. Be seeing you. I'll tell Emma you said 'hi' when she gets home."
Chris starts walking away from Xander again. "Thanks, man. Good luck!" he shouts after him as he fades into a silhouette in the darkness and vanishes out of sight, then whispers to himself, shaking his head, "You're really gonna need it."
Xander makes his way out of the alley. As he steps into the cold London streets, he takes out his cell-phone out of his coat and dials. He heads towards a parked dark silver-colored Jeep Cherokee and unlocks it when a voice at the end of the phone line greets him with a callous 'Hello'.
"Giles!" he answers with a quiet exuberance. "Yeah, I got it... No, it went fine... Yeah, late as usual, but he... What?... Yeah, I think so. Why?... Huh!... Well, ain't that great... No, it's okay. It's okay... Yeah, I'll pick him up... Yeah... Uh-huh... No prob... Yes, Giles... I know... I'll try to restrain myself... Yeah, well, he's already dead, so I don't know how big a difference will I make if I try to kill him... Okay!... Okay, okay. I'm going. I'm going... Bye."
He steps into the car and slams the phone and file against the passenger seat. He takes a deep breath and puts the keys in the ignition and drives off into the night.
Half an hour later, Xander arrives at an empty parking lot beside a bar named St. Lucy's Twisted House of Horrors. Several police cars are parked around a smoking SUV. Xander drives to the side of the bar and stations his car. He walks out and heads directly to the group of police officers standing near the damaged vehicle. He stands beside the police farthest from the car as he takes notes.
"What do we have here, officer?" he asks the startled cop.
"Excuse me?" the officer replies unmoved by his sudden appearance.
"What's going on?" he asks again with a smile in his face.
"Sir, this is a restricted area."
"I know that. It's just that I happen to know the owner--"
"Are you a relative of the owner?" interrupts the officer.
Xander raises an eyebrow, taken aback by the question. "Uh, no. And considering he's been dead for well over a hundred and fifty years I'd say you're way off your mark, buddy."
The officer glances at him with a cold stare. He turns towards Xander and puts down his pad. "I'm Council, officer," he affirms the cop.
The cop looks behind him towards the others standing beside the Escalade, then back at Xander. "Follow me," he says as he walks towards one of the parked police cars. Xander walks a few paces behind, never glancing anywhere but the direction in which he's headed. The officer rears his head inside the car and pulls out a small, silver-colored flash-light. He nods to Xander, and he pulls up his right sleeve, exposing his fore-arm.
The officer walks towards him, and grasping his arm he flashes under his wrist, just below the palm. A translucent silhouette in the form of a dragon takes shape in his skin underneath the light. The officer lets go of his arm and tosses the flash-light back inside the car. "Back there, sir," he informs pointedly towards the far end of the lot.
Xander nods to him with a slight gesture of gratification, then walks past him. He heads towards an alley behind the pub. As he walks in he sees Spike sitting in a large garbage disposal unit. His coat is sitting beside him as he drunkenly contemplates an open wound in his forehead over a cigarette and a beer.
"Rough night?" asks Xander as he steps in front of Spike.
Spike scoffs. "Really think that's a bloody given," he retorts.
"Yeah, well, it happens," responds Xander in an oddly sympathetic way.
Spike looks at him dubiously. "What the Hell happened to you?" he asks bewildered as he jumps off his seat.
"What do you mean?" asks Xander puzzled.
Spike puts the cigarette on his lips and takes a long drag. He drops it and steps on it as he releases the puff of smoke to his side. "What are you doing here?" he asks Xander suspiciously.
"Giles said you were having some car trouble and asked if I could pick you up. Why?"
Spike sniffs the cold air as he analyzes Xander's posture, delved completely in intrigue as to his intentions. "Okay," he finally says. "Okay then. Let's go."
He turns around and grabs his coat and heads off back into the parking lot. "So... when exactly are you planning on telling me why you melted half of Giles' car?" asks Xander amusingly.
Spike turns around and shakes his head in full amazement and realization. "I knew there was a reason you were being so nice."
"I'm always nice," refutes Xander.
"Yeah, well, if you're that curious why don't you ask His Majesty over there," he strikes back, pointing to a large, green, muscle-bound demon lying on the floor farther into the alley. "I'm sure he'll be more than happy to oblige."
"That's a Curlahk, right?"
"Yepper."
"Well, that certainly explains a lot."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, now I know for sure that the increasingly displeasing aroma is not just you. So that puts my nostrils at ease."
"Hey!"
"What did you do? Got drunk and punched the first walking-mountain you saw?"
"In a word: yes. Problem is I had no idea he was that drunk too. I just figured he was just being himself when he threw a glass full of piss at me during my recital. I mean, Curlahks are usually testy, downright bastards but, this guy? Had to throw him out the window after his follow-up."
"Right. And that was?"
"Damn stupid gorilla calls me a reject, has-been, Billy Idol wannabe."
"That bastard! Now that's just unheard of. A travesty even. Whatever gave him that idea?"
"Yuh-huh," scoffs Spike. "Bet he didn't find it half as funny when his face hit the asphalt."
Xander looks at him barely blinking. "Yeah," he begins, "that's all just fine and great, but it still doesn't explain the car."
"Oh. That. Yeah, I hit him with a pipe in his gut and he threw up on the hood," he pauses, reminiscing the incident. "Oughta' sue his ass."
Xander takes a deep breath and shakes his head in shameful denial of amusement. He takes another quick look at the Curlahk demon lying unconscious on the pile of garbage on the floor, then heads out of the alley behind Spike.
"You okay, pal?" asks Xander as he catches up to him.
"Been worse, mate," mumbles Spike in return. "Far worse. 'Member Glory?"
"Yeah... That was fun, wasn't it?"
Spike snickers drunkenly. "Yeah, it was. Just don't tell Buffy, all right?" Spike pauses. He stumbles around the parking lot then looks at Xander. "Hey, uh, I know you hate my guts and all, but could you do a bloke a favor and tell me if the world's really spinning or is just me?"
"Yeah, dude, it's spinning around, all right. You just forgot to take your gravity boots before you came down here."
"Somebody oughta' do somethin' about it."
"Don't worry. As soon as we get back home I'll tell Gunn to file a complaint. Oh, and, just so you know,those cops over there are actually hot, naked chicks."
"Really?"
"No."
"Huh. Shame."
Xander helps Spike into his car and buckles his seat-belt. He walks around the Jeep and nods to an on-looking police officer, pointing him at the alley in the back. He opens the door and sits in.
"You're gonna tell Giles, aren't you?" asks Spike, somewhat ashamed, as Xander turns the keys in the ignition.
"Nah! It'll be funnier when he gets the full-tab for all the costs."
Spike scratches the back of his head. "That's just cruel," he bemuses to himself. "I like it."
"Figured you would, buddy."
"My head hurts."
"Don't worry, Spike. You'll sleep it off."