Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Grey's Anatomy.
A/N: Idea didn't actually come from the When I Woke Up challenge, but as it fits into the parameter *shrugs*. This fic is a part of my work to get back into writing after having a decidedly slow year on that front. I watched Grey's Anatomy, and after the second season finale - everything seemed open for Izzie. So, maybe a trip to Vegas?
Xander opened one eye – and regretted it immediately. The bright light shining through the windows made his head throb. He closed his eye, and tried to ignore the headache. Maybe he’d drunk a bit more than he should’ve last night. Of course, if he could remember
what he had been drinking, he could also avoid drinking that again, and hopefully avoid days like this in the future.
There had been vampires. That he remembered. Vampires were almost always to blame for Xander’s headaches. Or if they weren’t – he could probably figure out a way to make them to blame. But in this case, the vampires were definitely to blame. If they hadn’t expressed a wish to take over the world – they would have stayed away from the Slayer-radar, and the team wouldn’t have been dispatched to deal with them. Following that, there would’ve been no victory celebration last night, and no head-achey head this morning. Probably. Unless Faith had managed to drag him out on the town in Cleveland. But most likely not.
The way he was feeling right now – he wondered if he should’ve just let the vamps wreak whatever havoc they could – surely it couldn’t feel any worse than this? Of course, he could be pretty damn sure that it wouldn’t have been a plan he could get either Buffy, Faith or Vi’s agreement on. The Slayers liked their fights.
Xander figured that as long as his eye remained closed, and he remained in a horizontal position, the throbbing wouldn’t get any worse. Or so he hoped.
A soft groan next to him, however, wanted it differently. His eye opened, warily. He hadn’t been so drunk that he’d accepted Faith’s offer, had he? Or worse – thrown himself at Vi or Buffy? Because in his experience that led to major awkwardness he really wanted to do without.
He looked over at the form next to him. Blonde. So… not Faith or Vi. And that particular shade wasn’t Buffy’s either, not even on a good day. So he could only conclude that he had picked up a total stranger, or been picked up by a total stranger, last night. While that scenario wasn’t ideal either, considering his history with women/demons, it would break down on any future awkwardness at work.
Of course, turning his head wasn’t a good idea. His brain began knocking on his skull – desperate to get out. And his stomach was apparently also having similar ideas. Xander abandoned the idea of trying to remember what had happened last night, and who the blonde was, in favour of a hurried rendezvous with the toilet-bowl in the bathroom.
After a lengthy period of puking his guts out, Xander was somewhat ready to face the world. He hadn’t found any toothpaste in the bathroom, but some water from the tap helped to get the worst taste out. He wasn’t wearing any clothes, but the hotel towels were fairly large, and… having one around his waist helped preserve his modesty as he went back into the bedroom.
“Good – my turn.” The blonde, wrapped in a sheet, waddled towards the bathroom. She looked about as good as Xander had been feeling earlier. The sounds coming from inside, after she’d shut the door, brought back some memories that he would have preferred to keep away.
“Bed.” If he just could get back to the horizontal position… the pounding in his head might go away. He crawled back into the bed, shut his eye and hoped things would be better the next time he woke up.
He should have known better than to tempt fate by hoping for something like that.