Laws of Dysfunction
Summary: during his summer road trip, Xander runs into a few new friends.
Disclaimer: Oh, mighty Corporate Gods and their servants, the Lawyers, I pray to thee to spare me your unwarranted vengeance as I knowingly and willfully utilize your oh-so-brilliant characters and other unmentioned features in this purely sentimental piece of literature and…oh, screw it, just don't sue my ass.
"Come on, gimme my drink!"
"What's the holdup!?"
"Yo, move your ass!"
Xander sighed as he hastily put together every drink on the list, with more and more people piling in, expecting service in a timely manner. Apparently, none of these people realized that timely service was impossible in the face of thirty-seven pushy people. Oh, well, people were idiots anyway.
"Yo, what's the holdup, man," he turned around to see a spiky blonde-haired man, a little old than himself, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt standing before him, a somewhat irate look on his face.
"Look around you, man," Xander responded, "There's forty people wanting their drinks, and only two of us, it's gonna take a little while."
The man seemed to ponder that for a moment before nodding.
"Well, let's make it three, man," the man jumped the bar, heading over to Xander.
"What the Hell," Xander shouted.
"Oh, don't have a cow, bro," the man said, "I know how to tend a bar, just show me the list and lemme go at it."
"…Boss," Xander called his manager over, "Can we…please?"
Morty, the forty-year-old owner of the club, examined the man for a moment, before nodding and saying, "Fine, but if he steels anything, your ass is grass, kid."
"Thanks," Xander said dryly before handing over the list, "Have at it."
"Damn, kid," Morty said as he sat down, "Twenty years, I've been working the bar, and I ain't ever seen a crowd like this."
"Eighteen years I've been living in a bar, and I've never seen anything like this," at Morty's odd look, Xander said, "Parents' were drunks."
"Oh," Morty nodded, taking it for what it was.
"Man," the other man sat down beside them, watching as the last stragglers walked out the door, "That was harder than any night at the Maison Derriere."
"You did pretty good tonight, kid," Morty remarked, "How'd you like a job?"
"Hell, sign me up," the man said, extending his hand, "Name's Bart, Bart Simpson."
"Xander Harris," Xander introduced himself, "How long've you been bartending?"
"I started up after high school," Bart said, "I was a piss-poor student, so, as Dad said, 'Boy, it's time you learn something worth while…go and get me a beer.'"
"Sounds like my dad," Xander said with a wry grin.
"Ah, Homer's a cool guy, just a bit of an ape," Bart laughed, "You know any good hotels around here, Xander?"
"No such thing as a good hotel this far outta Vegas," Morty remarked, going upstairs to get some sleep, "I'd let you stay here, but the only room available mine. Night, boys. Lock up when you're done."
"Oh, well," Bart said as he pocketed his tips, "Guess I'll sleep in my car tonight."
"Where're you parked," Xander asked, automatically worried about his new friend.
"Just outside," Bart said.
"Pull up beside my car, we'll keep each other company," Xander said, "Besides, you never know what could happen."
Xander closed his eyes as he laid down in the back seat of his car, listening to the crickets chirp. He was quite tired after his day of bartending. After having received an education in that particular art since his earliest years, thanks to his parents, he had plied his trade in the Fabulous Ladies' Night Club to pay for his car, which had chosen that moment to combust into a thousand pieces.
One month and a new car later, he'd made his way outside of Vegas into a small territory, where he'd quickly found a bar to work at.
After a short conversation with Bart, he'd discovered that the 20-year-old Springfield native had done exactly the same as him. Shortly after graduating from Springfield High, Bart had gotten a job working a bar called Moe's, where his father was a regular patron. After a year of that, Bart had scraped together some money to buy a van and start traveling across the country, bringing along the clothes on his back, his drum set, and some 'Krusty the Klown' merchandise.
His sister had originally come with him, having needed a break from, as he claimed she put it, the 'mindless mediocrity that is the public school system.' After hitting Dallas, however, she had hooked up with a group of jazz musicians and began to tour around Texas.
The sound of feet hitting the gravel caught his attention, causing him to tense and reach down for his stake. A few seconds later, the sound of breaking glass reached his ears. He pushed open his door, quickly racing towards Bart's van, where he could clearly see two figures outside, struggling with Bart. He ran forward and tackled both of them down to the ground.
"Xander," Bart breathed out, "What-"
"Talk later, vampires, stake 'em!"
Xander rolled away as quickly as he could as the two vamps rose, both snarling at him.
"I'll get the hero," one of them said, coming at him.
Bart gulped and crawled into the back of his van, with the vamp right on his tail. Xander quickly came to his feet, his stake hefted up in defense, waiting for the vamp to make the first move. The vamp moved quickly, trying to slide past his defenses, but Xander dodged to the right and drove his stake home, quickly bringing an end to the fight.
He looked over to the van and saw that Bart was using his sticks to make a cross, keeping the vamp at bay. He moved quickly and opened the back of the van, letting Bart fall onto the ground. He attempted to stake the vamp, but only succeeded in giving it his arm as a chew toy. Bart scrambled up and pulled back as hard as he could, ripping the wounded arm away from the vamp's teeth, eliciting a fierce groan from Xander.
"You ok, man," Bart asked.
"Move," Xander shouted, moving to his right as quickly as possible as the vampire dived for both of them.
Bart used his sticks to keep it away from him while Xander just tried to keep himself alive behind him.
"We need a plan," Bart shouted.
"Your point," Xander said as he tried to dress the wound.
"WE NEED A PLAN," Bart responded, "ANY IDEAS?"
"…One," Xander remarked, "On three, we rush him."
"Oh, I like this plan," the vamp snarled.
"I DON'T," Bart shouted, "ANY OTHER IDEAS?"
"I definitely like that plan," the vamp said, grinning widely.
"AY, CARAMBA," Bart shouted.
"You just aren't getting this, are you," Xander said, "On three, we rush him!"
"…Fine," Bart said.
"This is gonna be fun," the vamp said.
"I'm gonna kick your ass if you get us killed," Bart said.
"Shut up," Xander responded, placing his hand near Bart's shoulder, "Alright, one…two…THREE!"
As Bart ran forward, Xander grabbed his collar and dragged him down to the ground, firing his Colt at the vamp as he did so, landing a shot in its neck.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT," Bart demanded.
"Me shooting a vampire without accidentally shooting you," Xander responded, calmly walking forward and staking the vampire as it writhed on the ground.
"…I've known you a total of six hours, and already, I hate you," Bart said, coming to his feet.
"That's a record," Xander said, "Most people hate me by the first."
He grasped his arm carefully as he walked back to his car, with Bart hot on his heels.
"So, that was a vampire," Bart asked.
"Yeah," Xander said, "You don't seem too shocked about this. What gives?"
"My father polluted our entire town with a silo filled with pig crap, my mom campaigned to cancel a children's television show, my little sister has an IQ of two hundred, and my littler sister has an IQ of 215 and sharpshooter accuracy," Bart said in one breath, "Trust me…I've seen weirder."
"…Throw in a stuffy Englishmen and you've got my family," Xander said with a grin.