Debi squeaked and threw the broom up in front of her. She lowered it slightly then to take a gander at the smiling man. "Where did he walk to?" she said suspiciously. She glanced towards each end of the alleyway, but except for this one spot-lit stoop the alley was dark.
"My girl took him for walkies. To calm him down," he said with a smirk. "Where's Miguel at?"
"Miguel?" Debi lowered the broom and leaned on it.
"You're a new bird. Nice." He reached over to tap under her chin. "Miguel always did have an eye for the extra tasty ones."
"Now cut that out!" Debi swatted his hand away, but not too hard. Why did the good-looking men always start coming out of the woodwork as soon as she was dating someone she especially liked? "I'm just here for dinner, 'kay? I don't know Miguel. What do you want with him anyway?"
"Business, pet. But I'll settle for dinner."
"Spike!" A tall, dark-haired woman moved out of the alley shadows, dragging along a slightly-worse-for-the-wear Carsons. "I don't like him, He left a bad taste in my mouth . . . but she looks sweet." She settled her free arm on her companion's shoulder and smiled at Debi.
Oh great, Debi thought. If this weren't sign enough to rein in her hormones . . . "Thanks guys, but I got out of that scene years ago."
"The more the merrier," Spike said, still watching her as he ran a finger up and down the dark-haired woman's inside wrist.
Debi shook her head in exasperation and stepped back into the restaurant, shutting the door in their faces. "Some people --."
The door thumped open, staggering Debi off several paces. "Now luv, I told you we have a bit of business with the owner," Spike said as he swaggered in.
His lady friend trailed him in, hauling the unfortunate Carsons along by the back of the collar like a puppy dog. "He's not human," she said, shaking Carsons until his teeth rattled. "He tastes like soap."
"Well if you're gonna go around kissing strange gross little men --" Debi replied irritably.
"Kissing?" the other woman said. "Didn' try that." She dropped him onto the middle of the floor.
He snarled at Debi and struggled to his feet. "The bimbo's mine," he hissed. "She's violated six city ordinances."
Debi skipped back out of reach. "Liar! I'm a city employee in good standing. You think I haven't dealt with windbags like you before?"
The health inspector staggered to a halt and stood blinking at her like some malfunctioning machine. "City Code forbids all city employees from moonlighting --" he began again.
She waved her arms at him. "I don't work here! Geez, get a life, or at least an imagination. Better yet get Scopow on the phone and bitch to them. Better make it good though."
"Sco-pow," he hissed, his eyes gleaming redly. He cringed and threw his arm up as if to ward her off. "Excrement," he muttered, and slunk out the door.
Spike looked after him, intrigued. "So who's this Scopow chap. Your sugar daddy?"
"Sunnydale Coalition of Professional Office Workers," Debi said. "We have a kick-ass union, okay? When your friend gets back, will you tell him that we're still waiting on my salad?"
"Now pet, don't be unsociable." Spike plucked a stem of bridal's wreath from her hair. "Lovely garnish, eh Drusilla?"
Debi picked the flower from his hand and smacked him across the cheek.
Spike laughed and snagged her around the waist as she turned to go. "You want to go first, Dru?"
"Oh great," Debi said through gritted teeth. "Now's a good time to show, Rupert." She slipped her hand up the broom handle until it was inches from the end, then rammed the handle hard into his crotch. His eyes widened and he staggered back. She turned, snatched a rolling pin from the counter, and clobbered him upside the head with it. She meant to only stun him -- being a lech didn't qualify him for a concussion in her mind -- but the thwack didn't have much effect except to make his eyes go yellow.
"Thick head," Debi muttered, and hit him again harder. He turned on her with a pointy snarl that really made him ugly.
Drusilla was closing in on her from the other side. Debi hurled the rolling pin at her head.
"Lousy aim, ducks." Spike grabbed onto her shoulder with bruising force as the rolling pin tangled among the pots overhead.
Several of the pots lifted off their hooks and dropped down on Dru with a dreadful din. She shrieked in dismay and stumbled backwards, then fell flat on her rear wailing.
"Drusilla!" Spike shoved Debi aside in his rush to get to his companion.
Debi slipped out the door to the dining room.
The dining room was by now filled almost to capacity; the diners were chattering away as if none of the clatter out back had ever occurred. The waitress had reappeared at the reception podium from wherever she'd been hiding. She looked up and frowned at Debi.
"'Staff Only'!" she said, pointing at the sign by the swinging doors.
"Okay, okay! Sheesh." Debi turned as Spike and Drusilla burst into the dining room. The two skidded to a halt at the sight of the dining crowd. "Tell them."
"Billy!" the waitress exclaimed with a wide grin. "Miguel no esta aqui. Que pasa, perrito?" She grabbed Spike around the neck and ruffled his hair.
"Not fucking much," Spike told her as he eyed Debi up and down like a side of beef. "Think we'll wait then until he gets back."
"Hey!" Xander was hurrying across the dining room. He moved to shield Debi with a brandished butter knife. "Last time I saw you, you hit me! Hard!"
"Not bloody hard enough," Spike said. He stared over Xander's shoulder and broke out in a grin. "Joyce! How are you, luv?" he called out.
Joyce looked up from her salad and waved at him. "Spike! I'm fine and you? Is that your girlfriend? She's lovely."
Spike grinned foolishly, and grabbed Dru's hand to pull her over to the table. "Joyce, this's Drusilla. Dru -- this's Joyce. Joyce got me back on track with you."
"You sent my Spike after me?" Dru said with a smile. "I shall name one of my dollies after you."
Joyce smiled back. "I was only doing what any hopeless romantic would do. I'm so glad you found her, Spike. You make such a nice couple. Would you like to join us?"
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Xander said vehemently. "We've got a pretty full table now. Even fuller when Giles and Buffy get back?"
"Nonsense," Detective Stein said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "We can always bring up more chairs."
"Don't mind if we do," Spike said and led Drusilla to Debi's vacated chair. He reached over to the table behind them and dumped one of the diners there out of his, swinging it up to sit at the corner next to Joyce's seat.
Drusilla grinned up at Xander. "My mummy always served the youngest beef at breakfast," she purred at him. "I think I know you."
"Okay, that's it!" Xander said, "anybody ready to head out and party? Willow?"
"I think Buffy wanted me to stay here," Willow said uneasily. "Xander, stay! Please?"
Xander whimpered, but sank back into his seat next to Willow.
"You ought to stay until the mariachi band at least," Joyce said as she nibbled on a nacho chip. "They are so good."
"Dancing?" Debi had found a chair and squeezed it in next to Xander, at the opposite corner from Spike. The table was beginning to take on the decided look of encampments -- pro and anti-Spike.
"If we stay long enough." Joyce gave Detective Stein a coy look. "Where have Buffy and Mr. Giles gone? Weren't you with them, Ms. Marble?"
"They went out back," Debi said distastefully. "There was this really nasty man sneaking around the kitchen, scaring the cooks away."
Stein half rose. "They shouldn't try to apprehend a potentially violent criminal on their own."
"It's fine, Kevin," Joyce reassured him. "Buffy can take care of herself."
"He's not that kind of criminal. He works for the city." Debi reached across the table to nab the salad that had materialized at her old place while she'd been away. "Or at least he said he does. But I'm gonna have a word with my union rep about the City's sexual harassment laws."
"Those are difficult charges to prove without corrobating evidence," Stein said seriously. "Are you sure you want to run that particular gauntlet?"
"Oh, I won't, but SCOPOW will," Debi said confidently. She nudged Xander. "Pepper, Mr. Harris?"
"SCOPOW?" Joyce said.
"Secretarial union," Stein said as he helped himself to a plate of deep-fried jalapenos. "The police officers' union could take some power brokering lessons from them."
"Nothing?" Buffy said as Giles emerged from the Happy Hours Bar.
"Uhm, nothing in the way of our errant restaurant staff," Giles admitted. He looked more than slightly rumpled.
Buffy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What then?"
"Just some of the more boisterous Sunnydale night crowds," he said. "I think we'd better get back to the restaurant. Whatever it was could have doubled back."
"Right!" she said cheerfully. "Let me bust its head a couple of times, I'll feel better. Then we can all call it a night."
As they crossed the street back towards La Casa Blanca, a hunched figure came scuttling around the corner from the back of the building. It took one look at them, hissed, and turned to scuttle back towards the alley shadows.
"Yes! Finally!" Buffy shot after it.
"Buffy, wait!" Giles picked up his pace to trail her back into the alley.
"Gotcha!" he heard her squeal triumphantly. He made it to the corner of the building in time to see her hurl herself at a lurking shadow and throw it hard to the ground. "Creep about in the dark on me, will you?"
"Ow, Buffy, it's me!" a familiar voice yelped.
Buffy stopped pounding his head against the ground and stooped to peer into his shadowy face. "What do you mean it's you?" she said indignantly. "I was all psyched for some major slayage here! Why are you always lurking anyway? Can't you stumble clumsily about in the dark like a normal guy?"
"Sorry," Angel said as he inched back out from under her. "I got to worrying about you. You sounded pretty worked up over the phone." He looked up at Giles, who stood at the corner watching them expressionlessly. "Uh, hello, Rupert. Guess everything's cleared up between you and Buffy? Maybe I'd better go back to the mansion then."
Giles took a deep breath and composed himself. "Perhaps you should join us for a while," he suggested. "Buffy seems to be in need of some reassurance tonight."
"I'm fine." Buffy snarled. "It's everybody around me that's acting wiggy. Did you see some kind of evil creature come past you, Angel? I really want to bounce it off a couple of brick walls."
"I didn't see anything." Angel was still watching her worriedly.
A garbage can rattled down the alley, and Buffy whirled to dart after the sound.
"I see what you mean about her needing reassurance," Angel said. "Buffy, it's just a cat!"
"Let her go," Giles said wearily. "Maybe she'll tire herself out eventually."
They waited together in the darkness. "We still haven't talked," Angel ventured. "Not really. We should . . ."
"My plans for tonight included dinner and drinks with a pretty woman," Giles said tonelessly. "I suppose it was too much to ask of anybody to leave me to my own devices for one night?"
"I'll see if I can get Buffy to leave with me," Angel suggested.
"I'd appreciate that." Giles' voice softened marginally. "Take her to a movie. I hear that Shakespeare in Love is supposed to be excellent. Not that I'm likely to see it myself at the rate my social life is progressing."
"I'd like to see that one," Angel said wistfully. "Buffy didn't want to see it though. I think she thinks it might be too artsy."
"Tell her the lead is supposed to be a 'hunk'," Giles suggested. "Not that I'd know. Gwyneth Paltrow is quite charming though. I've seen her in Emma on the telly."
"Oh yeah," Angel agreed with more enthusiasm. "You should see her in Great Expectations. I think you'd like that. And Gwyneth has this way of smiling that --"
Buffy came hurrying back up the alley, a ragged object held at arm's length. She halted in front of them, breathing hard. "Sorry for running out on you guys. I forgot . . . Uh . . . " She squinted at them both anxiously. "Everything's okay, right?"
"What on earth have you got there?" Giles stared at the spitting object in her hand.
"Demon," Buffy replied with a smile. "It tried escaping up the back alley fence, but it was no match for my Slayer powers." She was bleeding from several long scratches across her face and arms.
"Buffy, that's a cat," said Angel.
"Got you fooled, huh?" Buffy said. "It may look like a cat, but it's acting like a demon." She lifted the creature up. It yowled and twisted to lock onto her wrist with daggered claws.
"It's a cat," Angel repeated. He grabbed the animal around the middle and tugged. It screeched fearfully and dug in.
"Ouch!" Buffy yelped, trying to shake loose. "I'm sorry, kitty! Let go now!"
"Hold still, you're scaring it!" Angel insisted, prying at one hooked paw. "Nice kitty."
The cat wreathed and tore loose from Buffy's arm, taking gobs of her flesh with it. It flailed about and latched into Angel's arm. "Son of a --" Angel yelled and leapt back.
"Don't hurt it!" Buffy yelled at him. "It's all my fault!" She fluttered around Angel, trying to grab the cat. It raked her across the other arm with its claws and scrambled for a safer perch up higher.
"Don't tell me, tell it!" Angel yelled, trying to fend the cat away from his eyes. A heavy, flat object hit him in the face and settled over both his head and the cat.
"Hold still," Giles said, and plucked the cat off, wrapped up in his leather jacket. He bundled the creature up. "Are you two quite done?"
"It's not my fault," Buffy pouted. "There was a demon back here. My Slayer sense is dinging."
"The dinging in your ears is tinnitus," Giles snapped at her. "In your case tonight, I suspect that it's caused by hypertension. Go home and lie down, I guarantee it will vanish."
"And leave my friends to be devoured by demons?" Buffy said indignantly. "I won't, no matter how bitchy they are being to me."
"Perhaps if you used a little more discretion, your friends would have less cause to be bitchy to you," Giles snapped back. Under his arm, the cat growled.
"Maybe if my friends were more sensible, I could be a little more discrete!" Buffy shouted.
"Guys --" Angel said uncomfortably.
"What's gotten into you, anyway?" Buffy demanded. "Has that leather gone to your head?" She scrutinized her Watcher as closely as she could in the dim alley light. "Have you been into the Band Candy again?"
Giles shot her a look that would have killed a lesser mortal, turned and walked off, cat still tucked under one arm.
"Buffy," Angel tried, "maybe you should back off of him a bit."
"Mind you own business!" Buffy whirled to pursue her Watcher. "Don't you run away from me, Giles! You started this, you come back and finish it!"
"Now wait a minute!" Angel decided. "You called me!" He followed close at her heels.
Buffy caught up with Giles at the back door of the restaurant and slammed the door shut from his hands. "You're not going to give me that look and march off without apologizing for it."
"And what, pray tell, am I apologizing for?"
"That look," Buffy insisted.
He took a deep breath. "Very well. I'm sorry for looking at you."
She burst into tears.
"Oh damn," Angel told Giles angrily. "You've made her cry." He folded Buffy in his arms.
"Me?" Giles said incredulously.
"Hush, Bubby-boo," Angel crooned to her, rubbing her back.
"I apologized," Giles insisted.
"You said you're sorry you ever looked at me," she wept.
"For Christ's sake, Buffy --" Giles said.
"Don't you start, Giles," she yelled at him. "I don't have to listen to you anymore."
"Then go muck about in Mr. Wyndham-Price's private life," Giles said through gritted teeth. "He's the one being paid for it." He opened the back door to the restaurant and went in, slamming it in their faces.
"Oh god." Buffy pounded on the door. "Giles! I didn't mean that the way it came out." She turned to Angel. "It's not my fault he got fired. Is it?"
"Uhm, well," Angel said. "Technically . . ."
She turned and hauled back on the door with all her Slayer strength. It popped open without protest and Buffy pitched back into the alley.
"Buffy, calm down, will you?" Angel bent to offer her a hand up. "The door wasn't locked. Have you had anything to eat tonight?"
"Licorice," she snuffled as she dabbed at a scrape on the back of her arm.
"Is she all right?" Giles said from the doorway.
"I think it's just fluctuating blood sugar," Angel said. "That or --"
"Oh right, blame it on that." Buffy jerked her arm from her boyfriend's grasp. "It doesn't matter how right a woman is to be angry, you guys always have to chalk it up to PMS."
"I said it was blood sugar." Angel said helplessly.
"Well it's not PMS."
"I know. I'd know if it were."
Buffy looked at him in confusion.
"I'd be able to smell --" he began, then took in Buffy's horrified look. "I mean, I'd be able to sense it." He looked over at Giles. The Watcher smiled at him. "Are you going to keep that cat?"
The animal in question muttered unhappily from its leathery prison.
"Perhaps," Giles said.
"It hates me," Buffy protested. "It'll make you choose between me and it."
"I'm not letting loose of it until it quiets down."
The cat growled louder.
"Set the jacket on the ground and back off," Angel suggested.
Giles looked down at the alley gravel. "I just had this jacket cleaned."
"We can put it down in the kitchen," Buffy snuffled. "The floor in there is clean."
"It'll get trapped inside," Giles protested.
"We can arrange this so it'll have to go out the door." Buffy was cheering up now that she had a plan. She bustled past Giles into the kitchen and looked around. "Angel will stand there and wave his arms, and Giles you stand here, and I'll use this broom here to herd the cat out."
"What happened in here?" Giles said in alarm, looking about at the clutters of pots and pans on the floor. "Debi?" He shoved the jacketed cat into Angel's arms and disappeared out into the dining room.
"Demons!" Buffy said and trailed him out.
The cat hissed and started to struggle. "Hey, guys!" Angel yelled. "Nice cat. Oh great." He looked about the kitchen and spotted a bin labeled 'chorizo'. . .