Not Really Hell
A/N: this is just a quick little thank you for everyone being so patient on the main story.
Four vamps, between two clubs, made for a very successful night in Buffy's mind, but it certainly didn't help that her adrenaline levels were crazy and she was starving.
"Come on, I'm starving," Tony said, leading her through the alley, rather than back inside, they hadn't left anything behind.
"Where to, boss?" she asked, as he dragged them past the lot where the rich kids parked their cars when clubbing in the area. "You know there's a full fridge at the house, right?"
"Nah, I'm in the mood for a burger," he was grinning, and she couldn't help but be mildly afraid of what was happening.
"Really? Here?" she rolled her eyes, as they approached Helen's Kitchen.
"Anne," Kate at the register smiled politely as they walked in.
The owner came out from the back, he always started his day at the same time the club kids were coming through. They were his best customers. Mitch was a large jovial man, the grandson of the original Helen. He kept a careful eye on the floor, and apparently knew Tony quite well, if the shoulder slapping hug was anything to judge by.
"Hi," she smiled uneasily, not sure quite how to handle the moment. Working there hadn't been the best thing, but Mitch had been the only one to take a chance on her when she first got to LA.
"Anne," he grinned. "Thanks for sending the uniform back. Don't let this guy push you around too much."
Tony mocked offence, and they were led to one of the quiet booths.