Backfire - Spander Files

6
Tilt-a-Whirl
Xander’s head spun. He flashed on a memory of when he was thirteen, and he and
Jesse thought it would be fun to sneak into his father’s liquor cabinet. They had
taken many sips of the most foul tasting clear liquid, then the next morning had
woken up feeling exactly like this. Achy and spinny and dry-mouthed. He turned
his head to the right and opened his eyes, expecting to see Jesse laying there,
looking like Xander felt.
Instead, he was looking at a wall. But it wasn’t his wall. His wall was covered in
posters and stickers and random paraphernalia that reflected his interest in music
and comic books and sports and Amy Yip.
He blinked. This wasn’t his wall. This wall was blank and boring. And these sure as
hell weren’t his sheets. These sheets weren’t the thread-bare blue stripes he’d had
for entirely too many years. These sheets were red and, my god…silk.
He turned his head to the left and the first thing he saw was Angel. Sitting on the
floor against the far wall. The vampire’s knees were drawn up to his chest. His
palms were resting on the floor. He was staring at Xander.
He glanced around the room, pulling the situation in focus. This was Angel’s
basement flat. He had been here once before. It was a large room with this bed
tucked into an alcove that offered a kind of privacy from the living area, kitchen,
and front door. He looked back at Angel. “How long?”
“Two days.”
Xander nodded. “Sunday,” he said to himself to clarify and get his bearings. Damn.
Missed the Babylon 5 marathon. “Just you here?”