"Nothing? No action at all? Not even one single vamp fledge tonight so new graveyard dirt was still dribbling out their ears?"
Three heads solemnly shook side-to-side in a distinct negative with perfect synchrony from where Abigail Hennessy, Ngozi Omeoga, and Lin Shih-Chia were lined up before the Headmaster's desk of the Cleveland Slayers House.
Xander Harris looked past the trio of young Slayers giving their unexpected patrol report regarding the city's Hellmouth at where Faith Lehane, arms crossed over her chest, was waiting at the rear of the executive office. This older woman just shrugged in her own clear bafflement.
Turning back to the worried faces of his charges, Xander told them in a very reassuring tone, "Okay, thanks. Go have a late dinner and then hit your beds. Faith and I will talk it over, but it might've simply been a slow night on the oogly-boogly front, girls. Don't worry, we'll probably get back to normal later on this week. You can have a double Ben & Jerry's fix to make up for it, all right?"
Brightening up at the chance of extra ice cream for dessert, the three young warriors happily left the room, with Faith closing the soundproof door of Xander's office after them. She stalked over to drop into the nearest armchair by the Headmaster's desk, sarcastically declaring to him from there, "Ya really think those baby Slayers ain't gonna find out the other two teams didn't run across a single goddamn demon either this evening?"
Running a hand through his prematurely-greying hair, Xander glowered at Faith. He snapped, "What I said still applies! There've been other times nothing particularly active on the supernatural front happened here, and you know it, Faith."
Again, Faith shrugged, but this time in annoyed exasperation. She pointed out, "Yeah, and just like then, yer gonna drop in at that fuckin' bar to find out what's going on, ain't ya?"
In a quick change of mood, Xander smirked at Faith. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, even if that involves having a drink at the only demon bar in Cleveland totally off limits to women of any species."
The sour expression which flashed over Faith's features at this unwanted reminder abruptly altered in a wicked grin. "Hey, at least I'll get to see ya chowing down on the toll ya gotta pay to get in there, stud."
An hour later, accompanied by Faith's snickering from where she was standing next to him in a vacant lot in Cleveland's warehouse district, Xander glumly took out something from his front jeans pocket. Holding the small matchbox in his left hand while sliding back the cover of this, Xander groped in there to capture between the fingers of his other hand the frantic occupant scuttling around inside the matchbox. Finally seizing his prize, Xander brought out from the matchbox a still-wriggling common spider and popped the tiny arthropod into his open mouth to then bite down onto it.
Making a disgusted face at the ensuing vile taste, Xander next swallowed with matching reluctance. In between his bout of abrupt gagging, the one-eyed man glanced at the portion of the vacant lot before him where a building had just materialized into view.
Faith followed Xander's gaze, but that was the only indication for her how Xan had just successfully completed the requirement for him to visit Biers tonight. According to boytoy, the Cleveland Hellmouth place where male demons had been drinking for decades wasn't formally known as anything but 'the bar' during all that time, but a few years ago, some Terry Pratchett fan called it after this British fantasy writers' own fictional Ankh-Moorpork pub where creatures of the night congregated nightly to down a couple brewskis, and the new name stuck.
Eyeing with extreme disfavor the empty patch on the vacant lot which seemed to be mocking her for being unable to see, touch, or enter to slaughter its unholy denizens like a proper Slayer should, Faith growled after Xander heading off, "Ya better not spend the rest of the night in there! Shouldn't take ya no more'n a half-hour, tops, to find out what the hell's going on! After that, get yer ass back here or I'll sic Red on everybody in that damn bar!"
"Yes, mom," Xander called over his shoulder, his normal good humor restored by Faith's sudden irate snarl behind him brought on by this version of her detested Cleveland House nickname of the Den Mother. Grinning even when the usual unnerving sensation of walking through Biers' wards shivered throughout his body, Xander grabbed the carved wooden handle of the bar's front door and pulled it open to walk inside.
From Faith's viewpoint, Xander basically vanished from sight in the middle of the vacant lot.
Checking her watch, the Slayer began to prowl back and forth across the ground, making a precautionary tap of her cellphone tucked away in her jacket pocket. She'd totally meant it. One second past thirty minutes, and Willow Rosenberg on speed-dial was gonna get a phone call from Faith saying her Xander-shaped friend was probably deep in the shit again.
Bingo, before you could say "Wicked Wicca of the West," there'd be one helluva hole where a Cleveland vacant lot had just existed, and Xander Harris would surely be groveling in abject apology to a very angry redhead.
Faith was actually looking forward to it, damn him.
Pausing in Biers' anteroom to take a deep breath of readiness, Xander contemplated again all the weirdness of his past life in Sunnydale which allowed him to be probably the only human ever able to visit this bar. Aside from being Dracula's former lackey (with associated insect-consuming habits), there was also the Hyena possession along with becoming friends with wolfy Oz, his stint on the swim team resulting in Coach Marin feeding him those fish-freak drugs, the brief involvement with Ampata, and finally Xander's encounters with Daryl Epps plus the Initiative's Adam.
In short, Xander had completed the grand total of experiencing up close and personal such classic Universal horror film archetypes as a master vampire, were-beasts, the Creature from the Black Lagoon, a mummy, a zombie, and the Frankenstein monster. All of whom examples were regular customers at Biers, natch.
As a result, he was both granted access to and tolerated at Biers as perhaps the token human, but Xander didn't mind all that much. For one, there was always the possibility of picking up some valuable information from that bar's misshapen clientele regarding the local Hellmouth and the Slayers who guarded it. These same demons were smart enough to know that as long as they kept tipping off the Headmaster about other, more dangerous foes out to seize or control that supernatural reality nexus, things would stay nice and peaceful at the whole city which of course included Biers itself.
Which was frankly the whole point of a location where you could enjoy a quiet drink free from anyone coming along to bother them. A most agreeable situation that definitely had to do with the bar's comprehensive ban on the admittance of females. From what Xander had been gruffly told, there had to be at least one place for guys where girls weren't allowed. Any attempts by him to inwardly disagree with this minor level of misogyny soon had Xander also admit that there were times when he needed his own break from the overwhelming estrogen intensity occurring every day at the Slayers House.
Xander soon had his favorite table at Biers with some really A-OK fellas dropping in to share a friendly beer or two with him. Yeah, fine, so they sometimes combined their beers with a shot of fresh otter blood, but tastes differed, right?
Now ready to relax and also maybe find out why things around Cleveland were so tranquil now that his suspicious Slayers were about to go bananas over it, Xander stepped into Biers' main room—
Halting right in his tracks due to immediately sensing the whole room's doleful atmosphere, Xander looked around trying to figure out what was wrong with everybody morosely hunched over their drinks. Biers was always pretty low-key, but this was a far sadder mood than Xander what usually experienced at the bar. In fact, it was noticeably…funeral.
A motion caught Xander's remaining eye. Pale hand waving for his attention, Sam Pierson at their usual table put this down when the human came over to join Sam and a remarkably hirsute Billy Thompson. It was Billy who said at once, even before Xander finished sitting with them, "Come to pay your respects?"
"What?" blankly responded Xander now in his chair. He stared in bafflement at his demonic acquaintances appearing quite taken aback themselves. "All I'm here for is to see why my girls didn't find a single fiend out to eat someone's spleen all this evening. They get really cranky when that happens and can't chop off anything's head."
Instead of answering right away, Sam just pushed over a copy of the Plain Dealer newspaper opened to the obituaries section. Bending over to read the paper spread out on the tabletop, Xander's remaining eye widened in genuine shock. He looked up to whisper in sorrow, "Bernie Wrightson died?"
Two solemn nods came from the…people…sharing the table with Xander. In his own woeful bass growl, Billy recalled, "Back in 2008, I actually met him at the Mid-Ohio Con at Columbus and got his autograph. Nice guy, he even complimented me on how well my costume resembled Larry Talbot after his change." A very wry chuckle done when finishing that reminiscence was accompanied by this werewolf twanging a fang.
Leaning back in his chair, Xander glanced around the room filled with supernatural beings who one and all closely resembled characters masterfully drawn by one of the greatest comic-book artists ever with intricate pen and brush work. He now knew why Biers was so quiet tonight. They'd all come here to mourn the man who'd depicted their kind so well.
Raising his hand at the bartender to call for a round for their table, Xander then turned to Sam and Billy. "I had my own collection of Wrightson's great stuff way back in Sunnydale, even before I got clued in on the real thing at my hometown."
Appreciative nods came from Xander's pals. When the drinks were brought, they also began telling how Bernie Wrightson had influenced their own lives.
More drinks were ordered. More stories flowed.
Eventually, in the middle of Xander swallowing his beer, the entire building shuddered, followed by a woman's voice grimly bellowing from outside, "ALEXANDER LAVELLE HARRIS! YOU BETTER HAVE A REALLY GOOD REASON FOR STAYING TOO LONG IN THERE!"
"Gack!" sprayed Xander in his spit-take. Springing up from his chair followed by the death glares of the other Biers customers, Xander reached for his wallet, yanked a wad of cash from there to drop this onto the table, and yelped at Sam and Billy about to dive under there for protection any second now. "Gotta go! Buy a round for the whole house! See you later!"
Xander Harris then sprinted towards the front door and disappeared from sight after passing through this. The bar waited tensely for anything else to occur, but they soon relaxed when it all stayed calm.
However, Billy and Sam still regarded each other and chorused, "Whipped," before Sam grabbed Xander's cash and used it to get Igor the bartender's notice.
Several seconds later, numerous glasses in various hands, paws, tentacles, and manipulative members were raised high in a loud salute of "TO BERNIE!"
Author's Note: Dedicated to Bernie Wrightson, who passed away on March 18, 2017.