Clubbin' Ain't What it Used to Be
Title: Clubbin' Ain't What It Used To Be
Series: Post Pulse
Author: Jinni (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things Dark Angel belong to Fox, et al.
Prompt 49 - Club - at crossovers100
Not entirely sure that I like Seattle - but maybe I'm just being a snob. The Pulse hit us all hard, but some harder than others. I have to think that Seattle and the other big cities around the country got hit hardest of all, if only because they have more people and things are harder to come by. It's not that bad back at the Motherhouse, in the Midwest. We have land and can farm, raise some animals for food.
Seattle is just dreary and depressing. Then again, Willow tells me that it was sort of always like that - dreary at least. The land of rain.
Sometimes I miss Sunnyhell.
Pre-crater Sunnyhell, that is. No one bothered to ever build again there - guess they were too afraid that it would all just sink some more.
Can't say I blame them. If they knew why it sank they'd never even get near it.
Still, that crater in the ground is completely more cheerful than Seattle.
This is day three of my little seek-and-explore mission and, like the days before it, I've struck rock bottom.
Yes, weird things happen here.
And, again with the yes, the transgenics started out somewhere around here.
But so far I'm not getting a thing. No word on the street where I can meet one of these superhumans. Not even a glimmer about this Eyes Only weirdo that supposedly could hook me up with some serious info or even leads.
I wanna help these people, really, I do - but if they're impossible to find, what the Hell am I supposed to do? Willow can't make a spell to find them because she knows next to nothing about them.
This is hopeless.
And so I find myself doing what any normal, bummed out twenty-something would do.
I'm at a bar.
Okay, so I guess this could be called a nightclub of some kind and not just a bar. But it pretty much looks like a bar to me.
Two beers into my night of sorrow, things start to look up.
Oh, I don't spot a transgenic or anything.
No - a hottie of a hottie sits down next to me and flashes me a smile. The turn-your-insides-to-jelly kind of smile. It's the same as a cocky smile in my book, probably because of Spike. Yeah, I had a crush on the bleached wonder - and he could do that arrogant smile like no other.
But this guy next to me? Well he just might have been able to give good old Spike a run for his money.
And he just...what's the word... um... exudes - yeah, he exudes sexiness.
All this I can tell with just a glance. Go me.
Of course, I can also tell that he's not a vampire. Score one for me for learning after a mistake or three that not all guys in bars should be automatically taken for human.
This one looks fine to me, though.
"Can I get you another?" he asks, tilting his head toward the mostly empty glass of beer in front of me.
"Sure," I shrug. Do I look nonchalant? God, I hope so. So maybe today was a wash on the transgenic front, a hottie to wile away and hour or two with would be a nice way to turn it around for the better.
"Name's Alec," he offered with another of those smiles after getting the bartender's attention.
"Dawn." I shake his hand. Oh, he's warm and strong. So - definitely not a vamp. Hey, a girl can't be too cautious in this world, you know.
"Just got into town," I admit.
"Really? How're you liking it?"
"Would it offend you too much if I said - not at all?" I answer honestly.
He shrugs with a lazy smile. "Guess it's the kind of place that has to grow on you."
"Ugh, no thanks - I'm here to get my business done and then get out."
"Business? You look too young to be a businesswoman."
"It's family business." And oh, how it is. The Watchers and everything we represent has become my life, my family. And I want to make these poor labrats a part of that family. Get them out of this hell and into our world, where being a freak is normal.
"It can be."
And can we move away from what I'm in town for now, I plead silently.
He does. Maybe the short answers were a clue that I didn't want to talk about it.
Alec is a real charmer. Buffy would be so jealous if she knew I got an assignment where I got to make small talk with a sex-magnet.
But then...the unthinkable.
My pager goes off.
"Damnit," I mutter, glancing at it. Yep, Scooby morse-code for call immediately for more info.
In other words, it said 411.
"I gotta go..." I sigh. This just figured. Meet a handsome guy - get called off to probably do some kind of nasty, icky thing.
"No. Listen - thanks for the drink. It was nice to meet you."
Wish we could have gone back to my hotel for a little one-on-one, I add silently, forcing myself to smile through my disappointment.
"Same time tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? Um, yeah," I nod. The pager is beeping again. Same thing. 411, followed by a 911. That means urgent info. Okay, I got it.
"You sure you're okay?" he frowned. "You seem... agitated."
"It's just my older sister," I shrug. Not quite a lie. It could be Buffy paging me. Or Willow. Or Xander. Or Faith. Well, the list keeps on going, you know.
"Family business?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. I got the feeling he wasn't buying my spiel. Whatever. Didn't matter.
"Yeah," I smile. "Gotta run."
I took off before he could ask anymore questions I couldn't answer, pulling my cell phone out the second I hit the cold street outside the club.
I dialed the number for the house, not the service and waited for someone to pick up. The fact that it took only half a ring didn't bode well.
"Hey, Willow." She didn't sound upset or irritated or angry or anything else that would necessitate a 911 page. So -- "What's up?"
"I need you to do me a little favor..."