Kid
Monday night, August 28, 2000
Xander slid his sunglasses off as he stepped past the tacky beaded curtain
into Willy's Alibi Bar. He paused, slowly taking measure of the demonic patrons
in the place. From his research and travels, he could identify at least
three-quarters of the packed bar by their electromolecular light patterns and
knew which of Willy's customers would most likely try to cause him problems.
Sometimes being one of the only humans in a club or bar was a real pain, because
the non-humans tended to think he was prey.
In reality, he was the ultimate predator.
Spike stood out like a beacon in the jumbled mix of tiny moving lights. The
enhanced vampire was playing billiards with an elf, if Xander's identification
skills were on the mark. Someone was getting laid tonight, he thought, and it
ain't me.
Scowling, Xander picked a spot at the bar and claimed it as his own, the two
Collbox demons occupying the space before suddenly coming down with painful
headaches. The only other human in the Alibi Bar was behind the counter, and by
the weasely tone of voice, Xander recognized that it was Willy himself.
"Hey, I know you, don't I?" Willy said, leaning his hands on the bartop in
front of Xander. "It's Xander, right?"
"Warat," Xander ordered without acknowledging the other man's question. The
demon brew was a favorite of his when he was in a semi-foul mood. The strong
drink would kick him in the slats before he decided to start toying with others'
brains.
"Woah, that's a pretty bold choice for a boy like you," Willy commented.
Xander speared Willy with a cold glare. The bartender backed off quickly.
"Right. Warat it is."
Xander idly tapped his finger on the bar as he waited for his drink. Hunting
at the Bronze had been a disappointment, there hadn't been nearly enough
vampires there to burn off his energy from the storm. He'd come to Willy's to
give Spike the Hawk, then head into the woods to blow up a few trees.
"Here you go, kid," Willy said, setting a shotglass before him.
"It's Xander," Xander growled before slamming back the foul liquor. He
twirled the shotglass over and thunked it, rim first, on the counter. "Not
'kid.' I hate being called 'kid.'" His father had called him 'kid.'
Turning around, Xander let out a short, high-pitched whistle. The noise in
the bar stopped abruptly, and all eyes looked to the brunette.
All eyes, that was, except for Spike's. The vampire continued to study the
layout of the billiards table, the only sign of him having heard the whistle was
his hand shooting up to snatch the bike keys from the air.
End
