Xander
Xander couldn’t believe it was her. Strolling into the bar, a place that he and the Hunters and had come to dozens, if not hundreds of times over the last few years, Daphne Carver was the last person that he’d thought he’d see. The woman who’d left him without a word so many years ago, the woman who had broken his heart like no other woman had before or since, was standing not fifty feet away, sipping a girly drink and looking at him in a way that reminded Xander of a horny, clueless teenager.
But he saw that there was something strange to the way she looked at him; there wasn’t the tiniest bit of familiarity in her eyes. It was like she was looking at someone she’d never seen before.
Before Xander could think too much longer about it, Cutter shoved him a drink.
“Another shot, man,” said Cutter, a wild smile on his face. “First we conquer the Spawn, and now we’re gonna conquer the pussy in this joint.”
Xander smirked, liking just how single-minded Cutter was tonight.
“Who you got your eye on?” asked Cutter after they’d downed their shots. “Me? I’m all about that little blonde piece in the short-shorts.”
“Might have to narrow it down, man,” said Xander, noticing that Cutter had described just about half the girls in this place.
“That one over there; the one with the big tits,” said Cutter, shoving his thick, ruddy finger into the air in the direction of one floozy or another. “What about you?”
Xander scanned the crowd again, looking for Daphne and realizing that she’d disappeared.
“Not sure yet,” said Xander. “Don’t like to rush into these kinds of decisions.”
Cutter flashed Xander a wry smile.
“Good fuckin’ call, man,” he said. “We’re goddamn conquering heroes; we can have the pick of any piece of ass in this joint.”
“I think I’m gonna scope out the scene,” said Xander.
“Do it,” said Cutter. “And next round’s on you, bud.”
Xander gave him a nod of acknowledgment before heading into the crowd. He decided to use the bathroom, looking through the masses of people on the way there for Daphne. He couldn’t see her, and part of him wondered if he’d just imagined her, like she were nothing more than some kind of drunken apparition.
Once he’d arrived in the bathroom, a shitty little space that smelled as bad as it looked, he stopped in front of the mirror and looked himself over.
Do I look that different? he thought.
In the last few years, he had made some changes. He’d grown his hair and beard long, gotten a handful of new tattoos, and put on about thirty pounds of solid muscle through steady, hard work at the gym. But he didn’t think he’d changed so much that a woman he’d dated for a year wouldn’t be able to recognize him.
Reaching into his pocket, Xander pulled out his phone and went through his pictures. He swiped over and over, going back to photos taken from years ago and finally landing on one of him and Daphne. His eyes went wide when he realized how he used to look.
The picture was of the two of them at one restaurant or another, Xander’s arm around Daphne and pulling her close. The arm was the first thing Xander noticed; it was thinner, and free of the tattoos he’d put on it recently. He looked down at his arm, his eyes moving from a tattoo of a snake being crushed under a combat boot, to one of a sharp-looking knife, to one that said “memento mori” in an elegant font.
Then, he looked at his face in the picture, almost feeling as though he were looking a different person. The Xander in the picture was barefaced, his chestnut-colored hair worn in a short, nearly buzzed style. His mouth was in an inviting smile that Xander realized he hadn’t made in years. The man in the picture struck Xander as less than a man, more of a boy fresh out of college and playing dress-up as a biker. He couldn’t believe how different he looked after only a few years.
Xander left the bathroom and went to the bar for another shot. He downed it eagerly as he watched his fellow Hunters move through the place like untamed beasts, being rowdy and carrying on as they usually did. He smirked as he watched Cutter and Ricky, one of the other men in the club, each scoop a woman off the ground and fling them over their shoulders like they were cavemen. The girls each let out a little shriek as they were lifted, and the smiles on their faces made it clear that they were more than okay with what was happening.
Xander glanced at Earl, one of the bartenders, who watched the unfolding with a knowing smile. The Shadow Hunters had been coming here for years, and Xander knew that they’d have to make a hell of a scene to get kicked out. Besides, mingling with rough guys like them was what brought the girls here from the city.
Leaning against the bar and turning back to the crowd, Xander looked once again for Daphne. His eyes flicked from woman to woman, and after a little searching, he spotted her.
No hallucination, thought Xander. That’s her, all right.
Other than her new, shorter hairstyle, she looked just the same, just as beautiful as ever. Against his better instincts, Xander felt a longing as he looked at Daphne. He knew he should just leave well enough alone. After all, he reminded himself, she did leave without saying a word. But the pulling just didn’t stop; after a time, he knew that he had to talk to her.
Downing one more shot of whiskey, he started off towards Daphne, who was now sitting at a small high-top table off to the side of the dance floor. Finally, he approached her, and Xander watched her eyes go wide as he made his way towards her. Once he stood on the other side of the table, a strange silence hung in the air.
“’Sup, Daph,” he said, crossing his thick arms over his burly chest.
“I’m … sorry,” she said, her voice slurring in a way that struck Xander as classic drunk girl. “How do you know my name?”