Bad Car-ma and Contingency Planning

Disclaimer: The moders caught me! I'm a bad, bad soul who forgets to write these little boogers. Not only that, but it didn't stick the first time! Cruel, cruel world.

It's sadly true,
Please don't sue,
Hamilton, Joss, I love you,
But I am not you
(and thus, don't own your creations)

-

It really was Xander’s phenomenal bad luck that had caused the whole affair. That and Uncle Rory’s crappy car falling to pieces a mile short of Oxnard. He had sighed, hauled his duffle, and walked until he came to the town he’d seen warning signs for.

As the name suggested, it was a small, sleepy little place that probably used to rely on oxen to plow fields that were bare now. Being so close to the Hellmouth, a good-sized demon population had accumulated there. Miraculously, the people didn’t have the Sunnydale ‘see no evil’ mentality. Most of the demons were either peaceable or had little interest in eating humans. A werewolf pack was the noticeable exception, but they stuck to the forest, and everyone else stayed inside on the full moons. Even the werewolves weren’t very hostile, reminding Xander distinctly of Oz.

But even though Oxnard was fairly utopian in the demonic aspect, he had to get his car repaired. And he had no money to do it with. After two days about half the population knew there was a new guy in town that was stuck due to car trouble. Two mechanics approached him, and he checked his bank account.

Xander couldn’t believe it. Every penny was gone. Only his mom would’ve known the account number – oh. Right.

It seemed a lot more believable, now.

He looked for a job instead of feeling sorry for himself, and found an acceptably salaried one: dishwashing in a nightclub.

The owner interviewed him personally, her eyes hard and business-like. “Are you eighteen or older?”

“Eighteen since three months ago.”

“Driver’s License?” He handed it over. She examined it thoroughly in suspicion, and then handed it back.

“Do you have any dancing experience?”

“Uh, no . . . do I need to dance while I wash the dishes?”

She sighed. “I’ll probably take you on anyway, but it would’ve been nice to have an extra stripper.”

Xander’s eyes got very large very suddenly. “Wh-what?”

“You’re cute enough. Sometimes the crowd wants a baby-face. I’ll have Panther teach you some moves in his spare time.”

“Panther” turned out to be a six-foot-plus, muscular black man that decided the best way to teach Xander how to dance was to stand so close behind him they were touching, and leading him manually through every step and undulation and discarded article of clothing. And Xander had absolutely no desire to turn around and discover exactly what had been prodding him in the ass.

Despite the mortifying teaching method, Xander learned an entirely new and provocative dance style with little enough real trouble. It was so different from his own teenie bopper jumping and arm-flinging that he had nothing to really unlearn. And, if nothing else, Panther’s yen for his ass made him want to get the lessons over with as quickly as possible. Ever since Larry had died on Graduation, he had trouble thinking about gay men without thinking about him, and thinking about Larry was painful.

Thankfully, he had no call to use his newfound stripping skills within the first two weeks of his low-paying job. And then Panther, being the bastard that he was, sprained his ankle and was forced to sit in the crowd. It was a slow night, only a Wednesday, so there were only two other strippers available, both female. They wouldn’t be able to appease Panther’s crowd, much less get them drinking.

The owner shuffled him into Panther’s dressing room, where the man himself was waiting. Mismatched bits of other strippers’ work-clothes were snatched from their rooms, and in ten minutes, the owner and three regular strippers of the Fabulous Ladies’ Night Club had the dish-boy dressed like a damn fine dish. Panther shooed the girls out, sat Xander down with just a hand motion, and spoke seriously for once.

Xander didn’t remember much of the pep talk, just the soothing tone it was done in, and was calmer and ready to take the stage. Panther slapped his ass in a manner that, disturbingly, reminded him of the butt-pats football guys performed on the field from time to time.

It was his catwalk debut, and he didn’t really mind that a bunch of strangers saw him very close to naked. The main reason for his not minding was the sheer amount of money they had given him. He had nearly five hundred dollars in just one night of four songs or so. At this rate, he could probably buy a totally different crappy, run-down, used car.

Panther decided he’d take a dancing vacation, and bartended instead. Xander filled in on more and more dancing shifts until he finally had enough to start a life in Oxnard, used car and a more permanent apartment included. However, the lease on his apartment was expiring, and he’d told his girls he’d come home.

So he left Oxnard and confident, stripper Xander behind, for a while.

His wedding, though, had inspired him to call some of his road-trip friends up. His old boss had been the only one he’d been able to reach, but she said she’d gladly ask her “kids” and any of his “fans” if they wanted to see the holy union.

Apprehensively, he waited outside his apartment building to greet the new guests.

He had no clue what hit him until he realized he was wrapped in a bone-crushing hug.

“Panther? Shit, you still work for the mangy old bitch?”

“I’ll forgive you this once,” the mangy old bitch, Cleopatra Antony, informed him. “But only if you give Cleo somethin’ special.”

“Sweetie, anytime you want, and my body is yours,” Xander told her with a broad grin, kissing her hello. “Pan, my man, I couldn’t get a hold of you. Ho, where you been?” he asked in gruff imitation of Panther’s own idea of a polite greeting.

The monster of a stripper laughed. “I was on vacation. Cleo called me up.”

“Who else came?” Xander didn’t ask to be put down. Panther would do that when he was well and ready.

“Giselle, Alicia, Dev, and Sasha. Hey, I never noticed that – you and Sasha are both named Alexander!” Panther beamed.

“Yep. Say, you’re not too bright are you?”

Panther put on a very high-pitched ditz voice, “No.”

Smiling, Xander said in a low, British-accented grunt, “Perfect.”

“Put. My fiancé. Down,” an angry, angry woman growled at Panther, who merely blinked at the dirty-blond fiancée, who was less than three quarters of his weight and height.

“Panther, it’s probably for the best. You remember what I told you about Anya?”

Slowly, Xander was set down.

“Anya, baby, these are some of my other friends – Panther, Cleo, and – where are the rest?”

“They wanted to wait in the cars. I’ll be back,” Cleo told him.

“Who are they?” Anya demanded.

“Just some friends. You remember when I went to Oxnard?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I met some people there, good people. Panther and Cleo are only some. I wanted them at the wedding, sweetie, because they mean a lot to me – like you, except you mean a lot more. They helped me out in a rough time, and I wanted you to meet some people who can help you if something happens to me. People who don’t live on a Hellmouth.”

“Contingency planning, Xander? That’s so sweet,” Anya smiled adoringly. “But nothing’s going to happen to you. Ever.” The “or else” was silent but understood by all present.

“Of course, Anya,” reassured Xander hurriedly. He tossed Panther a wry grin. “Come here, sweetness.” He kissed her gently, getting a small round of applause.

“I wish that’d been the ceremony,” Dev said grumpily. Devin O’Reilly was a cynic on good days. Hours in a car had not managed his constitution of a “Good day.”

“Anya, this is Devin, Alicia, Sasha, and Giselle. Guys, girls, Anya – the woman who made me the luckiest man in the world.” Xander was feeling goofy-happy.

Hands were shaken, pleasantries made, and then Anya’s brow furrowed. “I remember you,” she said to Giselle. “You were one of my vivisection cases.”

Giselle looked sickened. “Ugh. I should’ve known Jack didn’t have a heart.”

“Well, his particular breed of demon is very humanesque,” Anya said soothingly. Or, what passed as soothing for Anya.

Xander declined making comment.

As the wedding neared, Xander grew more and more nervous. Anya was reverting to her old, naïvely blunt self, and her demon friends were really starting to raise his hackles. One of them was trying to get in his pants. Halfrek was trying to make him wish for vengeance on his asshole parents and the rest of his loser family. He escaped under an awning to watch the rain before the ceremony, and did something monumentally stupid. It slipped out before he could realize what was going on.

“I wish I didn’t have to deal with this wedding.”

+

The Not Too Bright/no/perfect quote is from Italian Job...possibly the special features. Seth Green (Oz) was mocking Handsome Rob.

Good? Bad? Ugly? Very soon, we get to the crossover part.

--Chronicles Bailey