The Big Apricot
Masterpost
The Big Apricot was different than LA, shinier. Or maybe it was because Xander was seeing it from a very different perspective. He’d usually seen LA from school field trip buses, skulking around the freeways and dingy streets, eating from street vendors if anything.. In the last two weeks, Xander had seen Metropolis from the streets, but he’d spent more time in towers and penthouses, driving in limos, and treated to meals at the finest restaurants.
Grandfather William had insisted in treating Xander to the best of everything, including a wardrobe that did not come from a thrift store, a top of the line cell phone (to keep!), and a fake ID that looked perfectly real except it said he was over twenty-one. The latter was necessary because Xander had also been introduced to his grandfather’s business associates, and their children. The rich youths of Metropolis apparently did business dinners with their parents and grandparents before hitting the clubs, and hitting them hard.
Not that anyone checked that ID at the door more than once, not with the crowd he was running with.
Even the clubs of Metropolis were often shinier than LA, though Xander didn’t actually have proof of that, never having been to an LA club. But the Bronze had nothing on these places. Though the kids were equally stupidly oblivious.
The first night he was out, Xander was glad he’d reflexively tucked a small stake in his boot when he’d dressed, catching a vamp stalking the wanna-be line outside the second club of the night. He’d caught three more in various clubs in the last two weeks, and no one else seemed to notice a thing. It might have been the drugs, even more than the alcohol. The girl he’d found with fangs already in her neck didn’t notice her potential killer vanishing before her eyes, and right out of her neck. Yesh. Even Sunnydale residents noticed that. They explained it away, but they noticed.
Though, drugged out, drunk, and otherwise out of their minds, the one thing the youths he was introduced to didn’t do. Ignore Xander. Here, he wasn’t a nobody. He wasn’t much, not having a boarding school education or a trust fund that would choke a goat, but he was William Clark’s grandson, lived in California, and had lots of new and interesting stories. Xander had hot girls, and guys, hanging off him every night. And the couple he’d gone home with, girls and guys (yeah, he was still processing that last one), had treated him with a hell of a lot more respect that Faith.
Xander was going to miss Metropolis. Grandfather William had offered to help him stay, get him a job with his company or another in town, or get him into MetU. But as much fun as he was having, Xander knew his place was back in Sunnydale. He was Buffy’s white knight. He’d be back with her when the summer lull ended, doing his part to keep the world here.
Until then, he was going to keep having fun. One more night in Metropolis and tomorrow he’d head out to Smallville to meet Aunt Martha and her family.
And he was going to have fun tonight. Crystal, the girl he’d rescued from vamp fangs, had insisted Club Zero was the best in down, and after swooping in with a group of the beautiful people and out to the dance floor, Xander was inclined to agree. The atmosphere was sharp, wild, flashy. Of course, it didn’t hurt that it looked like Crystal was leaning towards taking him home without getting herself stoned first. She was smiling, and her dancing rather reminded him of an extreme version of that dance with Buffy after she came back from LA. And Angle wasn’t watching this time.
“Xander?”
Oh, she was rubbing herself against him. A little harder and her breasts were going to come flying out of that tiny little shirt she was wearing. He wasn’t salivating. Really.
“Get me some water?”
Xander smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Of course,” he yelled into her ear while he was down there.
Okay, yeah, Crystal reminded him of Buffy in a number of ways. She was short, blonde, and a cheerleader type. And they’d met over a vampire once. But she lacked the hidden strength of Buffy. So Xander wasn’t going to think about that and just enjoy whatever company the pretty girl decided to give him.
He had retrieved two bottles of extremely overpriced water and was wiggling his way out of the crowd around the bar when his well trained gut declared trouble. Three years hunting vampires in Sunnydale, amongst other things, had given him a good instinct for trouble. He didn’t have a slayer’s mystical instinct or anything, but he still had a hunch there was something going on in the dark under the stairs to his left.
Tucking the bottles of water under his left arm, Xander ducked a swaying arm attached to a very drunk dancer and pulled a hidden stake from his right boot. It might not be a vampire, but so far he hadn’t seen much else in Metropolis, just a Brachen demon who was passing through.
The space below the stairs was dark, being out of the flashing rays of light that lanced across the dance floor. But it didn’t take Xander long to adjust and spot two different necking couples. The first couple were both clearly having a good time, and while a vampire probably could bite down there, the man getting the blow job would probably complain more if the man giving was biting. The other couple, however…
Xander had to get a little closer to be sure, but tall, bald, and glassy against the wall looked more limp than orgasmic. And his companion was working at his throat. Loud as the club was, it was hard to listen for any telltale signs. Frowning, Xander noticed the bald man’s pale eyes lock on his, and glassy with drugs or not, they were looking pained. That could be orgasmic panting, but … no. Xander tapped the probable vampire on the leather clad shoulder.
He didn’t move.
What was it with vampires and leather. And bleached blond hair. A weird feeling zinged through Xander and he wondered what Spike might be doing in Metropolis. But no, this one was too tall.
This time Xander grabbed the vampire’s shoulder and yanked, ripping fangs from baldy’s neck.
“Shit,” Xander hissed, and while the vampire was still trying to figure out who had intruded on his dinner, Xander slammed the stake into place.
He left the stake and let it vanish in a flash of dust with the rest of the vampire, focusing on getting the bleeding stopped before the vamp’s victim bled out. Blood already stained the tall man’s shirt, but the trickle slowed once Xander sacrificed his shirt to apply pressure.
“You okay?” he asked. This guy was definitely on something more than alcohol, or he tasted damned good. Otherwise there would have had more of a fight to get that stake in place. Xander liked to think he was good at this, but he was no Buffy and he knew it.
The other man didn’t reply, just frowned and started sliding down the wall with a surprising degree of grace for someone high, drunk, and running more than a quart low.
“Maybe we should call an ambulance.” Xander kept pressure up on the wound, but used his other hand to check the man’s pulse. It was thready and rapid. Combined with the amount of blood on the man’s shirt, that probably indicated a transfusion would be a good thing.
“No amblance…,” the man muttered. “No ‘spital…. Dad’d kill me.”
Cupping the man’s chin, Xander took another look into his eyes. They looked clearer, but the guy was still a wreck.
“How about getting you home then?” Xander suggested. A quick check showed the blood flow had almost stopped, and the man’s breathing did seem to be improving a bit. Damn, this guy looked young, but how young? “Maybe your parents can convince you to be sensible.” Or roommate.
The man snorted, but shoved a hand towards the floor and started struggling towards upright.
“Okay, maybe your parents are like my parents. Is there somewhere else I can take you?” Xander got the man on his feet, but it was pretty clear baldy was mostly unconscious inside of three steps.
Security spotted them shortly after Xander dragged the guy out of the shadow under the stairs. Suddenly there was another man under baldy’s other shoulder and they were being escorted smoothly through the shadows around the edge of the dance floor. Before Xander could make heads or tails of everyone’s behavior, he was hustled out the front of the club and into a cab, baldy tucked in neatly beside him. Xander wasn’t quite sure why that went so smoothly. Even in Sunnydale, people spotting one person covered in blood and another short a shirt probably would have called an ambulance rather than sending them packing.
“Gonna need an address,” the cabbie announced over his shoulder, but not until they’d already traveled three blocks.
Xander frowned, and considered giving his grandfather’s address. But he’d rather get this guy home and see him someone else’s problem. Nudging the man, Xander hoped baldy would wake up, but his head just lolled against the closed door.
“Try his pockets.”
“Pardon?” Xander snapped, glaring at the cabbie who should be paying more attention to the road than his passengers, even at this hour of the night.
“Wallet? ID? Usually has an address. What the hell are you doing with this guy if you don’t know where he lives?”
“Mind your own business,” Xander snapped as he ran his hands over his companions hips. He didn’t find a bulge big enough for a wallet, not that one would have fit in those pants. They were tight enough to have been painted on. But Xander did find something in the man’s right pocket, which when carefully wiggled out proved to be a wad of cash with an ID stuffed in the center.
“Bingo.” The light through the windows was awful and Xander could barely read the dark print, but he managed to rattle off a street and number as he squinted and twisted the ID to catch the moving light as the cab continued to drive. They paused at a light and Xander noticed he had apparently rescued another Alexander.
“Huh,” he muttered, shoving the ID back in the wad of cash and carefully wedging the bundle back in Alexander’s pocket. “Nice to have a name to go with the face.”
The drive passed slowly, but out of the loud thumping of the club’s music it was easier to keep an eye on Alexander’s condition. The vampire had taken a lot of blood, but so far the man seemed to be recovering instead of failing. Xander kept a hand on Alexander’s wrist checking the pulse, listened carefully to his breathing. Both seemed to improve from block to block, and the blood flow had definitely stopped.
When they finally stopped, it was in front of some glass and steel high rise monstrosity. And the cabbie had definitely inflated the rate. When Xander glared, the man just shrugged and muttered about bloodstains.
Which Xander had to concede was a point. “Common problem in that area?” he asked dryly, peeling off the requisite cash from the wad his grandfather had passed him the other night. The cabbie just snorted, took the money, and provided no assistance at working Alexander out of the cab. The blasted man was lanky, and unconscious his limbs were very difficult to maneuver. Xander was about ready to start cussing when a doorman appeared beside the car and gasped.
“Mr Luthor.”
“I assume that means he does live here,” Xander huffed as he continued to maneuver Alexander’s legs out of the foot well.
“Yes, of course,” the doorman said, sounding affronted.
“Good, then help me get him up.” Xander snarled the words as Alexander started sliding out onto the street.
Clearly Alexander was important because the doorman immediately tucked an arm under his shoulder and lifted. Xander slipped out of the cab as soon as there was room to pass, then tucked himself under Alexander’s other shoulder and wedged his shirt in place over the wound. At a minimum, it hid most of the bloodstain.
Together, they maneuvered the unconscious man into the building and over to the elevator. The security guard came out from behind the night desk, but rather than looking panicked he looked resigned.
“Mr Luthor’s not going to be happy,” the guard said.
“Look, he’s had a shitty evening,” Xander started, but the doorman cut him off.
“Wrong Luthor.”
“Can you tell me what level he’s on?” Xander asked. “I found him….” Damn, he didn’t know how to explain without sounding pretty bad.
“If you could take him up, his housekeeper can take over,” the guard said, summoning the elevator.
Once Xander and Alexander were inside the metal box, the doorman slipped back out and the guard shoved a keycard into a slot and tapped the penthouse button. Eyes wide, Xander didn’t manage to get a word out before the doors slid smoothly shut. His stomach sank as the elevator took off with an impressive degree of speed.
“Who the hell are you, Alexander,” Xander muttered. While he had a wall to add support, he peeled his shirt back from Alexander’s neck and checked the wound. The bleeding seemed to have stopped completely, and it looked like the wounds had closed.
In fact, Xander wasn’t sure he could find the puncture marks at all.
The doors slid open and Xander had to heft Alexander carefully to get them out of the elevator before it decided to trap them. It was close. The door bounced back Xander’s arm reaching ahead, then Alexander’s arm trailing behind.
“Hello?” Xander called, taking in the extremely elegant and expensive looking room the elevator opened into. There was no sign of a front door. Rather, this looked like someone’s sitting room. “Anyone there?” he called a little louder, praying internally for help. He was getting tired.
It was a slow shuffle, but he managed to maneuver Alexander onto the nearest couch. About the time he fell to his knees, someone finally came out to find out about the noise.
“Alexander?”
Xander looked up to find a middle aged woman shuffling into the room from a distant doorway. Damn this place was huge.
“He’s had a bit of a rough night,” Xander said. “But he insisted on no hospitals.”
She gasped and ran back out.
“Shit,” Xander sighed. “You are a hell of a lot of trouble.” The light through the windows that made up the outside wall was a lot clearer than that in the club or cab. Xander took a moment to take in the face of the man he’d rescued. Even with blood covering his collar and neck, Alexander was a handsome man. His baldness showed no shadow of hair below the pale skin, probably made paler by the sever blood loss. As he stared, Alexander’s eyes opened slowly. The gray irises were still glassy, but Xander was certain they were clearer than they had been in the club. He checked Alexander’s pulse, listened to his breathing, and decided the man was probably stable.
“I think you’re gonna be okay,” Xander said.
Alexander frowned. “Who?” The word was barely audible, but as soon as the breath was out his eyes slid shut again.
“You heard me, Toby. Get your ass over here. Alexander’s had another accident.”
Xander realized he’d heard the woman’s voice through the doorway the whole time he was observing Alexander. “Sounds like my cue.” He peeled his shirt from Alexander’s shirt, still sticky blood holding the two together. “Take care of yourself, man.” Curiosity made him stroke a hand across Alexander’s cheek. It was smooth, not a hint of stubble, and very soft. “Be more careful picking your company,” he added. “I won’t be here to find you next time.”
The elevator was waiting for him, the doors opening as soon as he hit the button with slightly bloody fingers. On the rather short journey down, Xander stared at himself in the reflective metal of the doors. Shit. He was shirtless, spattered in blood and vampire dust, and his shirt was ruined. “Crystal’s gonna kill me.” If she was still waiting.
The Big Apricot was different than LA, shinier. Or maybe it was because Xander was seeing it from a very different perspective. He’d usually seen LA from school field trip buses, skulking around the freeways and dingy streets, eating from street vendors if anything.. In the last two weeks, Xander had seen Metropolis from the streets, but he’d spent more time in towers and penthouses, driving in limos, and treated to meals at the finest restaurants.
Grandfather William had insisted in treating Xander to the best of everything, including a wardrobe that did not come from a thrift store, a top of the line cell phone (to keep!), and a fake ID that looked perfectly real except it said he was over twenty-one. The latter was necessary because Xander had also been introduced to his grandfather’s business associates, and their children. The rich youths of Metropolis apparently did business dinners with their parents and grandparents before hitting the clubs, and hitting them hard.
Not that anyone checked that ID at the door more than once, not with the crowd he was running with.
Even the clubs of Metropolis were often shinier than LA, though Xander didn’t actually have proof of that, never having been to an LA club. But the Bronze had nothing on these places. Though the kids were equally stupidly oblivious.
The first night he was out, Xander was glad he’d reflexively tucked a small stake in his boot when he’d dressed, catching a vamp stalking the wanna-be line outside the second club of the night. He’d caught three more in various clubs in the last two weeks, and no one else seemed to notice a thing. It might have been the drugs, even more than the alcohol. The girl he’d found with fangs already in her neck didn’t notice her potential killer vanishing before her eyes, and right out of her neck. Yesh. Even Sunnydale residents noticed that. They explained it away, but they noticed.
Though, drugged out, drunk, and otherwise out of their minds, the one thing the youths he was introduced to didn’t do. Ignore Xander. Here, he wasn’t a nobody. He wasn’t much, not having a boarding school education or a trust fund that would choke a goat, but he was William Clark’s grandson, lived in California, and had lots of new and interesting stories. Xander had hot girls, and guys, hanging off him every night. And the couple he’d gone home with, girls and guys (yeah, he was still processing that last one), had treated him with a hell of a lot more respect that Faith.
Xander was going to miss Metropolis. Grandfather William had offered to help him stay, get him a job with his company or another in town, or get him into MetU. But as much fun as he was having, Xander knew his place was back in Sunnydale. He was Buffy’s white knight. He’d be back with her when the summer lull ended, doing his part to keep the world here.
Until then, he was going to keep having fun. One more night in Metropolis and tomorrow he’d head out to Smallville to meet Aunt Martha and her family.
And he was going to have fun tonight. Crystal, the girl he’d rescued from vamp fangs, had insisted Club Zero was the best in down, and after swooping in with a group of the beautiful people and out to the dance floor, Xander was inclined to agree. The atmosphere was sharp, wild, flashy. Of course, it didn’t hurt that it looked like Crystal was leaning towards taking him home without getting herself stoned first. She was smiling, and her dancing rather reminded him of an extreme version of that dance with Buffy after she came back from LA. And Angle wasn’t watching this time.
“Xander?”
Oh, she was rubbing herself against him. A little harder and her breasts were going to come flying out of that tiny little shirt she was wearing. He wasn’t salivating. Really.
“Get me some water?”
Xander smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Of course,” he yelled into her ear while he was down there.
Okay, yeah, Crystal reminded him of Buffy in a number of ways. She was short, blonde, and a cheerleader type. And they’d met over a vampire once. But she lacked the hidden strength of Buffy. So Xander wasn’t going to think about that and just enjoy whatever company the pretty girl decided to give him.
He had retrieved two bottles of extremely overpriced water and was wiggling his way out of the crowd around the bar when his well trained gut declared trouble. Three years hunting vampires in Sunnydale, amongst other things, had given him a good instinct for trouble. He didn’t have a slayer’s mystical instinct or anything, but he still had a hunch there was something going on in the dark under the stairs to his left.
Tucking the bottles of water under his left arm, Xander ducked a swaying arm attached to a very drunk dancer and pulled a hidden stake from his right boot. It might not be a vampire, but so far he hadn’t seen much else in Metropolis, just a Brachen demon who was passing through.
The space below the stairs was dark, being out of the flashing rays of light that lanced across the dance floor. But it didn’t take Xander long to adjust and spot two different necking couples. The first couple were both clearly having a good time, and while a vampire probably could bite down there, the man getting the blow job would probably complain more if the man giving was biting. The other couple, however…
Xander had to get a little closer to be sure, but tall, bald, and glassy against the wall looked more limp than orgasmic. And his companion was working at his throat. Loud as the club was, it was hard to listen for any telltale signs. Frowning, Xander noticed the bald man’s pale eyes lock on his, and glassy with drugs or not, they were looking pained. That could be orgasmic panting, but … no. Xander tapped the probable vampire on the leather clad shoulder.
He didn’t move.
What was it with vampires and leather. And bleached blond hair. A weird feeling zinged through Xander and he wondered what Spike might be doing in Metropolis. But no, this one was too tall.
This time Xander grabbed the vampire’s shoulder and yanked, ripping fangs from baldy’s neck.
“Shit,” Xander hissed, and while the vampire was still trying to figure out who had intruded on his dinner, Xander slammed the stake into place.
He left the stake and let it vanish in a flash of dust with the rest of the vampire, focusing on getting the bleeding stopped before the vamp’s victim bled out. Blood already stained the tall man’s shirt, but the trickle slowed once Xander sacrificed his shirt to apply pressure.
“You okay?” he asked. This guy was definitely on something more than alcohol, or he tasted damned good. Otherwise there would have had more of a fight to get that stake in place. Xander liked to think he was good at this, but he was no Buffy and he knew it.
The other man didn’t reply, just frowned and started sliding down the wall with a surprising degree of grace for someone high, drunk, and running more than a quart low.
“Maybe we should call an ambulance.” Xander kept pressure up on the wound, but used his other hand to check the man’s pulse. It was thready and rapid. Combined with the amount of blood on the man’s shirt, that probably indicated a transfusion would be a good thing.
“No amblance…,” the man muttered. “No ‘spital…. Dad’d kill me.”
Cupping the man’s chin, Xander took another look into his eyes. They looked clearer, but the guy was still a wreck.
“How about getting you home then?” Xander suggested. A quick check showed the blood flow had almost stopped, and the man’s breathing did seem to be improving a bit. Damn, this guy looked young, but how young? “Maybe your parents can convince you to be sensible.” Or roommate.
The man snorted, but shoved a hand towards the floor and started struggling towards upright.
“Okay, maybe your parents are like my parents. Is there somewhere else I can take you?” Xander got the man on his feet, but it was pretty clear baldy was mostly unconscious inside of three steps.
Security spotted them shortly after Xander dragged the guy out of the shadow under the stairs. Suddenly there was another man under baldy’s other shoulder and they were being escorted smoothly through the shadows around the edge of the dance floor. Before Xander could make heads or tails of everyone’s behavior, he was hustled out the front of the club and into a cab, baldy tucked in neatly beside him. Xander wasn’t quite sure why that went so smoothly. Even in Sunnydale, people spotting one person covered in blood and another short a shirt probably would have called an ambulance rather than sending them packing.
“Gonna need an address,” the cabbie announced over his shoulder, but not until they’d already traveled three blocks.
Xander frowned, and considered giving his grandfather’s address. But he’d rather get this guy home and see him someone else’s problem. Nudging the man, Xander hoped baldy would wake up, but his head just lolled against the closed door.
“Try his pockets.”
“Pardon?” Xander snapped, glaring at the cabbie who should be paying more attention to the road than his passengers, even at this hour of the night.
“Wallet? ID? Usually has an address. What the hell are you doing with this guy if you don’t know where he lives?”
“Mind your own business,” Xander snapped as he ran his hands over his companions hips. He didn’t find a bulge big enough for a wallet, not that one would have fit in those pants. They were tight enough to have been painted on. But Xander did find something in the man’s right pocket, which when carefully wiggled out proved to be a wad of cash with an ID stuffed in the center.
“Bingo.” The light through the windows was awful and Xander could barely read the dark print, but he managed to rattle off a street and number as he squinted and twisted the ID to catch the moving light as the cab continued to drive. They paused at a light and Xander noticed he had apparently rescued another Alexander.
“Huh,” he muttered, shoving the ID back in the wad of cash and carefully wedging the bundle back in Alexander’s pocket. “Nice to have a name to go with the face.”
The drive passed slowly, but out of the loud thumping of the club’s music it was easier to keep an eye on Alexander’s condition. The vampire had taken a lot of blood, but so far the man seemed to be recovering instead of failing. Xander kept a hand on Alexander’s wrist checking the pulse, listened carefully to his breathing. Both seemed to improve from block to block, and the blood flow had definitely stopped.
When they finally stopped, it was in front of some glass and steel high rise monstrosity. And the cabbie had definitely inflated the rate. When Xander glared, the man just shrugged and muttered about bloodstains.
Which Xander had to concede was a point. “Common problem in that area?” he asked dryly, peeling off the requisite cash from the wad his grandfather had passed him the other night. The cabbie just snorted, took the money, and provided no assistance at working Alexander out of the cab. The blasted man was lanky, and unconscious his limbs were very difficult to maneuver. Xander was about ready to start cussing when a doorman appeared beside the car and gasped.
“Mr Luthor.”
“I assume that means he does live here,” Xander huffed as he continued to maneuver Alexander’s legs out of the foot well.
“Yes, of course,” the doorman said, sounding affronted.
“Good, then help me get him up.” Xander snarled the words as Alexander started sliding out onto the street.
Clearly Alexander was important because the doorman immediately tucked an arm under his shoulder and lifted. Xander slipped out of the cab as soon as there was room to pass, then tucked himself under Alexander’s other shoulder and wedged his shirt in place over the wound. At a minimum, it hid most of the bloodstain.
Together, they maneuvered the unconscious man into the building and over to the elevator. The security guard came out from behind the night desk, but rather than looking panicked he looked resigned.
“Mr Luthor’s not going to be happy,” the guard said.
“Look, he’s had a shitty evening,” Xander started, but the doorman cut him off.
“Wrong Luthor.”
“Can you tell me what level he’s on?” Xander asked. “I found him….” Damn, he didn’t know how to explain without sounding pretty bad.
“If you could take him up, his housekeeper can take over,” the guard said, summoning the elevator.
Once Xander and Alexander were inside the metal box, the doorman slipped back out and the guard shoved a keycard into a slot and tapped the penthouse button. Eyes wide, Xander didn’t manage to get a word out before the doors slid smoothly shut. His stomach sank as the elevator took off with an impressive degree of speed.
“Who the hell are you, Alexander,” Xander muttered. While he had a wall to add support, he peeled his shirt back from Alexander’s neck and checked the wound. The bleeding seemed to have stopped completely, and it looked like the wounds had closed.
In fact, Xander wasn’t sure he could find the puncture marks at all.
The doors slid open and Xander had to heft Alexander carefully to get them out of the elevator before it decided to trap them. It was close. The door bounced back Xander’s arm reaching ahead, then Alexander’s arm trailing behind.
“Hello?” Xander called, taking in the extremely elegant and expensive looking room the elevator opened into. There was no sign of a front door. Rather, this looked like someone’s sitting room. “Anyone there?” he called a little louder, praying internally for help. He was getting tired.
It was a slow shuffle, but he managed to maneuver Alexander onto the nearest couch. About the time he fell to his knees, someone finally came out to find out about the noise.
“Alexander?”
Xander looked up to find a middle aged woman shuffling into the room from a distant doorway. Damn this place was huge.
“He’s had a bit of a rough night,” Xander said. “But he insisted on no hospitals.”
She gasped and ran back out.
“Shit,” Xander sighed. “You are a hell of a lot of trouble.” The light through the windows that made up the outside wall was a lot clearer than that in the club or cab. Xander took a moment to take in the face of the man he’d rescued. Even with blood covering his collar and neck, Alexander was a handsome man. His baldness showed no shadow of hair below the pale skin, probably made paler by the sever blood loss. As he stared, Alexander’s eyes opened slowly. The gray irises were still glassy, but Xander was certain they were clearer than they had been in the club. He checked Alexander’s pulse, listened to his breathing, and decided the man was probably stable.
“I think you’re gonna be okay,” Xander said.
Alexander frowned. “Who?” The word was barely audible, but as soon as the breath was out his eyes slid shut again.
“You heard me, Toby. Get your ass over here. Alexander’s had another accident.”
Xander realized he’d heard the woman’s voice through the doorway the whole time he was observing Alexander. “Sounds like my cue.” He peeled his shirt from Alexander’s shirt, still sticky blood holding the two together. “Take care of yourself, man.” Curiosity made him stroke a hand across Alexander’s cheek. It was smooth, not a hint of stubble, and very soft. “Be more careful picking your company,” he added. “I won’t be here to find you next time.”
The elevator was waiting for him, the doors opening as soon as he hit the button with slightly bloody fingers. On the rather short journey down, Xander stared at himself in the reflective metal of the doors. Shit. He was shirtless, spattered in blood and vampire dust, and his shirt was ruined. “Crystal’s gonna kill me.” If she was still waiting.