Title: The Sacrifices

Author: mispel

E-mail: PG-13

Summary: Someone is back in town and up to no good. Buffy patrols with Xander. Anya and Spike try to deal with their new conditions. A new threat makes itself at home.

Spoilers: Early season 7

Disclaimer: I own none of it

Feedback: Any comments would be welcome

A/N: Takes place in early season 7, not long after Beneath You and Same Time, Same Place.




The Sacrifices

Chapter 1: Pantomime




As soon as the sun set, she came through the graveyard and hid something in the bushes. She put a finger to her lips, made shushing noises to the bundle, and went further away to wait. Finding a spot, she crouched out of sight.

She huffed and fidgeted. It seemed like hours. The thing she had stashed away wouldn't stay quiet. The noise carried to her and made her antsy. As did the ants crawling up her leg. She had enough. With one last look around, she waved to the bushes and she left.




Buffy fiddled with her stake as she walked - rolling it in her hand, throwing it from one hand to the other. Xander noticed her restless hands and gave her a look. When Buffy complained to him that there was nothing to kill, he didn't look the least bit sympathetic.

Their peaceful, night stroll through the cemetery was rudely interrupted. An overeager vampire shoved Xander aside and grabbed Buffy from behind. His hold on her left her arms stuck at her sides. Buffy hated that move. As she struggled to dislodge the immobilizing grip of the vampire's arms, Xander circled with a stake in hand. The vamp kept turning, though, and Xander couldn't take aim. Finally Buffy raised her legs and kicked out making them both fall backward. When he hit the ground, the vamp lost his grip and Buffy rolled away neatly. Xander took the opportunity to drive his stake into the prone vampire's chest only to end up thrown over when the vampire grabbed his arm and flipped him over his head. In the next second, the vamp was on his feet with Buffy waiting for him.

After they exchanged a few introductory blows, Buffy could tell that this vampire wasn't a Johnny Just Crawled Out of the Grave. He fought cautiously and skillfully - except for the stupid move of fighting her in the first place. That made it more fun. Sometimes she felt like she was nursemaiding new vamps through their first, wobbly steps out of the coffin. All they knew was that they wanted blood, and they wanted it now. They didn't even know who Buffy was. There should be a pamphlet 'You're a Newly Risen Vampire, Now What?'. With frequently asked questions like 'What is a Slayer?', 'Why do I find myself strangely attracted to her?', and 'Can I date her?'. The answer to that one would be a big old 'No!'.

As soon as they started fighting, Buffy had seen a moment of realization on this vampire's face. He knew who she was. That was nice.

The vamp ducked two of her kicks. So Buffy put more effort into her next move. She feigned a punch then gave him a kick to the jaw. She followed with a series of punches, just so he couldn't call her a tease. As his head popped backward with every hit, the vamp reeled, but he didn't fall. His next angry punch missed Buffy completely. She saw that his strength was waning. The fun was over. So she finished him off with a stake before he embarrassed himself.

She and Xander brushed dust and grass off their clothes. Holding his elbow, Xander winced but shook his head bravely when Buffy looked concerned. He showed her that the elbow worked by swinging it around. The pained faces he was making the whole time weren't all that comforting though.

As they walked, Buffy kept an eye on the fresh graves, but it looked like the cemetery's new guests were there to stay. Everything was peaceful except for the sky. It was dark blue with dark gray clouds turning silvery when they passed over the moon on their way east. The moon looked funny and lopsided with a bit shaved off its side. It shifted in and out of the clouds so the cemetery got a little light now and then. The changing light made Buffy feel like something was in the works. She kept her eyes open but she couldn't see anything except the white faces of gravestones sticking out of the ground.




Anya watched a couple fighting by a red car stopped in the deserted street. The car doors were wide open. The woman had been driving then she stopped, and the man got out. She called his name through the window. His name was Gary. When he didn't stop she got out of the car and ran after him.

It didn't look promising. Gary looked upset, and the woman was trying to explain something. Anya heard her say that it was a mistake. The woman grabbed the guy's arm whenever he tried to walk away. He kept raising his hands in a way that told Anya that the woman was in the wrong. It was rare but it happened sometimes. The woman kept gesturing at the car like she was asking him to at least let her give him a ride. He refused, and the woman yelled that she was sorry as he walked away.

Anya was very disappointed. The woman sat in the red car and cried quietly. Anya went to her on the off chance that there was some vengeance she could do. But Anya's lack of enthusiasm made her too slow and the woman drove away.




Spike struggled, but no matter what he did it stretched over him and confined him. His skin was a tourniquet. It compressed around his insides, trying to squeeze them out. The skin had cracked and oozed at first. Then it was pulled tight where the burns were healing. The burned places stopped hurting and started to itch and constrict. But he knew what would happen if he started scratching - he wouldn't stop. He needed to look nice for Buffy. Spike started to laugh convulsively at the thought that she might come to see him. She would see him - this thing that flailed at nothing, and dug its nails into itself, a thing whose every part turned against itself. With his fingers bloody, he stopped. The small wounds closed so fast. Spike struggled as his skin tightened around him.




Once upon a time something had burrowed deep underground and made a layer. The thing must have been long dead, its chamber disused. The entrance nearly buried. The old, narrow path led downward through the dirt. They followed it. Many eyes beheld the majestic space. Silently they agreed that it was perfect, and they made preparations.




To be continued