Stripped: Drinking the Day Away - Somewhere In North America
by Willes
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Xander was at his usual pub. Every bartender knew him there; he was there more than he was in his motel room. But today, Xander was setting the world record for early-in-the-day drinking. He couldn’t sleep any longer. He had been very abruptly awoken by another one of Willow’s locator spells. Whenever she cast one it sent him on a wild ride.

Xander had cast a cloaking spell, which made him unable to be found by most locator spells. He didn’t want to be found. Contrary to popular belief, Xander had picked up a thing or two about the occult in his years in Sunnydale. How could he not? He had spent seven years with the most powerful witch in the western hemisphere, the slayer, and a man who knew more about the mystical powers then anyone around. He could cast simple spells, that was all, but it was enough for his purposes.

“Your usual?” the bartender asked.

Xander nodded. He thought this bartenders name was Ron or maybe it was John. He couldn’t remember. He never paid much attention. He wasn’t here to make friends; he was here to forget about them.

“That’ll be $5.00.”

“Put it on my tab,” Xander said nonchalantly. “I’ll be here a while.”

“Sure thing,” the bartender said, walking to the register.

Xander drank his drink quickly. Sobriety was not the place he wanted to be. Let’s get this one down so we can have another, he thought. Slamming the empty glass down on the table, he motioned to the bartenders. Wait, bartenders? Wasn’t there just one before? And they look exactly the same! Whoa, I’m drunk, really drunk. Wait, I only had one drink. The room began to spin, or Xander began to spin. He wasn’t quit sure. “Shit” he said, as he toppled onto the floor.

The bartender looked over at the heap on the floor. Motioning two very large men in very large trench coats over to the bar, he pointed at Xander. “That’s him. Comes here everyday like clockwork.”

“That’s one of the best friends of the Slayer? He looks all washed up,” one of the trench coat men commented.

“Listen, I don’t know the details. All I know is he ran into some hard times, but he is definitely the one,” the bartender answered.

“Well, thanks,” the other trench coat man said, passing the bartender a wad of bills. “The boss will be quit pleased.” And with that he picked Xander up, flung him over his shoulder, and carried him out of the bar.


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