What Was Lost

by SpikesKat

Chapter 5

Xander went a week straight without any verbal interaction with Spike. Their gazes had connected every so often as they worked, and at first Xander had been the recipient of the vampire’s look of contempt before abruptly turning away. That had seemed to mellow over the last day or two, however, and while not being treated to an outright smile of welcome, Spike’s expression wasn’t quite so hostile anymore. Definitely progress, Xander thought.

He’d also made friends with several of the others working at the nightclub and was surprised at how close-knit the group of employees seemed to be.

“Alex, we’re running low on peanuts,” Mike called out over the noise. “Can you grab one of the gallon jars out of the kitchen?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Seeing that Mike and Jim – another bartender working the far side of the counter – had things well in hand, Xander wiped his hands on a nearby towel and slipped out from behind the bar.

“Scott? Where are the peanuts kept?” Xander asked as he walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

He froze in shock at seeing the cook – a demon, he suddenly realized – cursing a blue streak while, literally, blue. Complete with three-inch spikes standing out all over his head.

“You. You’re… a… a… you’re a demon,” Xander babbled, pointing at Scott.

“Only when I have to be,” Scott laughed as he shook off his spikes and the blue tinge to his skin. “Damned fryer just popped hot grease all over my face. Hurt like hell.”

“Oh. Uh…”

“Peanuts are on that shelf behind you. Just take the whole jar with you.” Scott turned away, grabbed his spatula, and went back to work.

“Uh…”

“Alex?” Scott called out when he sensed that the boy hadn’t moved.

“Huh?”

“Peanuts.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Peanuts! I’ll just… uh… get the peanuts then.”

Xander moved towards the shelf Scott had indicated, making sure not to turn his back on the demon that was cooking away at the stove. He was never more grateful than when his hand closed around the jar of peanuts and he snatched it off the shelf and beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen.

“You’re not gonna eat me now, are you?” Xander asked, just before he left.

Scott glanced over his shoulder and took in the boy’s appearance. Couldn’t help teasing him a bit when he replied, “Sorry, kid, you’re not my type.” Then laughed as Alex’s face turned bright red, his mouth worked but nothing came out, and he finally pushed the doors open and disappeared.

“Evil,” Scott thought he heard muttered as the doors swooshed closed behind him.

~*~*~*~*~

Xander was in a daze as he wended his way through the tables back to the bar.

‘I’m working in a demon bar,’ he thought, barely resisting the urge to beat a hasty retreat and to hell with his last paycheck.

If the situation weren’t so serious, he would have laughed at the irony. He’d traveled cross country trying to get away from anything associated with hellmouths and things that went bump in the night, wanting just a bit of normalcy in his life.

Xander glanced around the club, wondering if any of the patrons were aware of how close they were to danger, or even worse, if some of them were there to contribute to the danger. He didn’t hear Mike calling his name, and it wasn’t until the man came over and took the tub of peanuts out of his hand that he was able to push the thought of demons from his mind and concentrate on the task at hand, mumbling a distracted “I’m fine” to his boss’ question about his welfare.

Surprisingly, post “The Discovery” as he was calling it, the rest of the evening flew by, and he gladly gave himself over to the monotony of mixing drinks. Later, while Xander wiped down tables and stacked chairs, the others were busy cleaning up behind the bar and taking inventory to re-order supplies in the morning.

He’d just finished when Mike came over and handed him his share of the bar tips.

“You want to hang around and play a few hands of poker with us?”

Xander was torn. On the one hand, he was excited about the invite since it meant that he was finally being viewed as one of the gang – but what kind of gang? A quick glance about the room revealed no one watching him or Mike, and his gaze came back to rest on the man before him.

Mike seemed nice enough, but Xander knew his judgment of a person’s character wasn’t the best. Case in point – Miss French, Ampata, and most recently, Lissa, the kayak girl, who instead of stringing up her kayak decided he was the one in need of stringing up.

Deciding that the up front approach would be best, Xander just asked.

“Are you a demon too?”

Xander had to give Mike credit; he didn’t so much as flinch.

“Uh…. no. Why… uh… why do you ask?”

“Because Scott, the guy working in your kitchen, is a demon. You do know he's a demon, right? I saw him in the kitchen with the blue and the spikes.” Xander gestured to his face with both of his hands. “And I know for a fact that Spike is too. Nothing says vampire like unusually pale skin and an aversion to sunlight, never mind the bad attitude. So, I just want to make sure that it’s poker we’re playing and not ‘String up Xander and Start Another Apocalypse’.”

Mike’s lips twitched. “Get that a lot, do you?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“What Harris wants to know,” Spike drolled as he joined the two, having heard enough of Harris’ blubbering, “is if we’re planning on eating Mr. Nummy Treat here. After all, we’re nothing but a bunch of soulless demons. It’s what we do, you know, us being evil and all.”

“Ah… I, uh, see.” Mike glanced between Spike and Xander and wondered at the undercurrent between the two. Finally, his gaze settled on Xander and he smiled reassuringly. “Strictly cards. I promise.”

Xander glared at Spike, not appreciating the vamp’s snide comments, and how Spike made it seem like he was the one in the wrong. Demons were evil, case closed. Seven years on the Hellmouth fighting at Buffy’s side had proven that.

Unfortunately, his inner voice chose that moment to remind him of the fact that he’d been working alongside not one, but two, demons – admittedly one did have a soul now – maybe more, for over a week now, and nothing horrible had come of it.

He felt his moral compass shifting and it took him another moment or two before he answered Mike.

“I’m in,” Xander agreed reluctantly, wondering if he was making a mistake. He blamed Spike’s taunting smirk for accepting the invitation and silently swore he’d come back and haunt the vampire if something happened to him.

“Great!” Mike clapped him on the back and produced a cigar from somewhere and tucked it into Xander’s front shirt pocket.

“I don’t smoke,” Xander protested.

“Neither does anyone else. It just sets the mood. Can’t play cards without a cigar in your hand. Or a drink for that matter. Come on. Jackson has the table set up upstairs.”

Xander allowed himself to be led upstairs to the VIP lounge.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike watched Xander throw back another shot of whiskey then wince slightly as he swallowed. He had to admit, he was pretty impressed with the Slayer’s boy. An hour into the game, Scott had allowed his true face to show, citing that he’d never win a hand against Spike without his demon’s edge; Xander had blinked owlishly and downed a shot or two of liquid courage, but had otherwise remained calm and focused on the cards in his hand. As the liquor had continued to flow, Xander had eventually relaxed, allowing himself to enjoy the companionship of those around the table.

Another hour passed.

Chips changed hands, piles got smaller or larger depending on the hand – or the bluff.

Everyone got steadily drunker. They’d gone through two bottles and had just cracked the third. Harris’ one good eye was starting to close, Spike noticed, and he didn’t doubt that the boy was seeing double, if not triple.

“Last hand,” Spike murmured, and there were nods of agreement all around. It was going on four in the morning and they all needed to get some sleep before work later that night.

Spike glanced at his cards, crap, the lot of them, although he didn’t allow a flicker of emotion to show on his face. Next to him, Harris was squinting at his. His boss, Mike was difficult to read; there wasn’t even a tell-tale increase in heart rate to give him away. Scott didn’t have a hand since he was holding his cards with two hands as opposed to one. Jackson folded, not bothering to try to bluff his way to a win.

Probably what he should have done, but then, he never was one to play it safe. He discarded two and the others around the table made their own adjustments. Then the bluffing began.

“Call.”

“I’ll raise.”

Spike quirked his brow at Scott’s raise, but threw chips into the pot nonetheless.

Xander, surprisingly, raised the pot as well, which forced the others to ante up or fold.

Spike was sitting with two pair, not bad given the crap hand he’d started with. He threw in the remainder of his chips and waited.

“Pair of Aces,” Mike announced, turning over his cards.

Scott cursed and flipped over his cards; he had a pair of tens.

“Two pair,” Spike smirked, having beaten out Mike.

“I’ve got three five’s… and two two’s.” Xander squinted at his cards, then laid them out on the table for the others to see. “At least I think so. I don’t think I can have six fives…”

Then he promptly passed out.

“Well, damn,” Spike grumbled.

“Guess Alex was our big winner tonight,” Mike laughed.

“Beginner’s luck.”

Spike eyed Xander sprawled out in the chair. No way was he hauling the boy five blocks to his hotel. “Can’t believe ‘m giving up my bed for the little shit,” he muttered as he gained his feet and lifted Xander over his shoulder. “Let me just get him settled then I’ll come help you clean up.”

~*~*~*~*~

Xander awoke and immediately wished he hadn’t. His mouth felt like he’d licked his way up and down the street. His head felt like the percussion section of his high school band had taken up residence. His stomach rolled and churned and he knew if he didn’t find a bathroom in the next five seconds there was going to be a smelly mess on the floor.

A quick glance around the room revealed that he wasn’t in his hotel room, but wherever he was had a bathroom. He was up and running as if the hounds of hell were after him and just barely managed to make it to the toilet in time.

Homage was paid. Promises of never again were made.

A good portion of someone’s toothpaste was squirted onto his finger afterwards, the taste almost causing a repeat performance at the toilet.

“Bit of hair on the dog that bit you,” Spike called out as Xander exited the bathroom when he was through.

Xander eyed the proffered shot and felt like gagging. He shook his head and pleaded for some water instead. Watched gratefully as Spike left the room and returned moments later with a tall glass filled to the brim with clear liquid.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He took the glass gingerly between both hands and then guzzled it down.

“Here.”

Xander took the pills Spike held out in his hand.

“I’ll get you some more water.”

“Thanks.”

Spike returned moments later with a refill and Xander swallowed the two tablets and finished off the second glass of water.

“You alright to make it back to your hotel? Sun’s up, so it’s not like I can join you.”

“What time is it?” Xander croaked out.

“Twelve, or thereabouts.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ll be okay. Just need my keys—”

“On the dresser with your winnings.”

“Winnings?”

“Uh huh. Won the last hand with a full house then passed out.”

“Oh.”

“Right then… well, you’ll prolly want to shove off. Get showered and whatnot. Front door’s locked from the inside, just pull it closed behind you.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll, uh… see ya tonight.”

Spike waved him off and Xander grabbed his money and keys and left the room. Outside in the hall, he realized that he was still upstairs in the club and walked the short distance to the VIP lounge and then down the stairs to the exit.

It wasn’t until he was outside and on his way back to his motel that he realized that he’d been asleep in Spike’s bed.

Spike gave up his bed for me.

tbc... 

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