The Slayer or the Tiger
By: Aurorarose13
Looming all around him were the walls circular walls of the arena. Faceless monsters, marked only by serpentine cracks with tufts of emerald moss and scales of sable lichen, engulfed the Scooby, a seamless barrier. Beginning above the rim of the wall were rows of seats that climbed up to the heavens, so it seemed. For this occasion, every seat was occupied by a ferocious looking demon with an expectant grin upon his face, and every set of beady eyes was focused upon his shaking figure.
Xander's own tremulous eyes settled upon two portals equal in size, color and shape. Each had a similar knot in the oak; each had two light streaks of brown slicing through the middle; each had a crescent moon shaped dent above the knobs. Both portals had a shiny brass knob—on opposite sides of the doors—which gleamed his reflection back at him. He saw in those eyes all of his fear and uncertainty, and it chilled his very bones. He needed to be positive if he expected to finagle his way out of this rut. Then he had to find Buffy so she could straighten this situation out with a stake or maybe a long, long, long sword. No, a saber would suit this far better…
Time ticked away slower than usual, and Xander was reduced to tracing circles in the sand beneath his feet. It was almost as though he yearned for something to happen to him. Standing here waiting was a fate worse than death. The sun made a lazy arch across the empyrean, and foreboding shadows darkened the arena floor. As night inched ever closer, the grisly crowd became more anxious, and the late-coming demons began to filter in to their seats, their faces turning even more green with embarrassment. Still, all eyes remained on Xander, fixed with instant glue and unable to deviate from his sullen face.
When night had descended upon the audience and only the full moon was left to cast silhouettes, the floodlights at the upper perimeter of the stadium clicked on. For a moment, Xander was blinded by the surge of light, but gradually his eyes adjusted. Now high above him, on a podium of stone directly in front of him, stood his judge for his case. The demon himself rose about eight feet tall, with sinewy arms a vile shade of green. Red nails, filed viciously sharp, clicked noxiously against each other. Even under his loose brown robe, one could easily postulate the creature had powerful legs, and the knees were bent backwards unlike most of his kin in the stands. And those eyes… They bored into Xander, vibrant yellow pupils focusing on the young man's form. "Alexander LaVelle Harris," the judge began, his voice resonating around the walls like church bells on a Sunday morning, "you stand before us an accused man."
Xander stepped forward, his head cocked in curiosity as well as confusion. "Accused, um, Your Honor, of what?"
The whole arena shook with laughter mixed with shock. Even the judge seemed taken aback. "Of what, you ask! Demons and demonesses, did you hear the human correctly? He asked what he is on trial for!" That heavy cranium racked with rows of miniature horns drifted back and the creature's gullet opened wide, revealing three rows of wicked incisors. Cackling dribbled over the judge's lips, down the front of his robe and finally onto Xander. He reached for the leather bound book on his podium, opening to the last, most recent page. "Harris, have been brought here on the charge of killing a Teufel."
"A what, Your Honor?"
More howling. "Why, one of us, Mr. Harris. A devil demon! Now, you do realize how serious this crime is, do you not?"
"I suppose not."
"Failure to prove yourself innocent will get you death."
More intrigued than frightened, Xander leaned forward, his hand out imploringly. "And how is this trial to commence exactly? How do I prove myself free of guilt, Your Honor?"
The judge's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Patronizing me will do you know good, Harris. In a trial, it is best not to aggravate the judge. But even then, I am not the one who decides whether or not you are free of guilt?"
"Let me guess," Xander began, motioning all around the stadium, "this attractive studio audience is." The spectators scowled in unison at the defendant, sentencing immediately with their eyes.
"Wrong!" the judge declared, slamming his book closed. Xander stepped back in shock. Well, chalk this up as another strange situation gone rotten. He needed Buffy here now. "The gods will determine your veracity." It was at that point the judge threw his claws up in the air and shook them in a desperate plea. "Oh, great Ramnok and great Veernik, preside over this case with Your infinite wisdom. Bestow upon us Your boundless knowledge. Let Your judgments fall upon this human and decide his fate!" At once, the whole of the crowd waved wildly to the sky and called, in their language, for Ramnok and Veernik to make their decisions.
Suddenly, silence fell like a descending blanket covering the whole scene. The judge glared at Xander, his eyes scrutinizing the boy's every detail. "Ramnok and Veernik have spoken. They will listen to your case and then Gramvord here will argue it. You have five minutes. Begin now." The great judge flipped over a large hourglass on his podium, then folded his arms in anticipation.
Xander cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, Your Honor, I—"
"Speak not to me, Harris, but to the great gods."
"Uh, most Holy Ones?" he asked more than stated, one eyebrow arched. When the judge nodded in approval, the Scooby continued. "I, Alexander Harris, ask that You understand that I am innocent of all crimes. Well, okay, not all crimes, considering that one time where I kinda let this vampire die who wasn't exactly all evil, but, hey, it was for a worthy cause. I mean, if you had known the asshol—" The judge tapped the glass, stopping Xander dead in his ramblings. "But I digress, Almighty Ones. See, I obviously don't even remember killing a Teufel, was it? You've gotta already know I can't fight for beans, let alone kill a man, ah, I mean demon. You'd think I'd remember a victorious kill, especially if it were something so ugly, like these goons." The audience gasped. "No offense, guys. Really! Nothing personal. Just trying to clear my name." A few heads even conceded to this declaration in the crowd. "So, in closing, I am not guilty. Couldn't possibly be, You see, cos I let all the chicks do the fighting for me." The human leaned toward the judge's stand. "Psst! Don't tell anyone about this, kay?"
"I suppose I won't need to if you're dead."
"Touché." Xander bowed his head. "The end."
"And you have nothing more to say on your behalf, Harris?"
"None, Your Honor."
The judge nodded. "Very well. Horzak Gramvord, approach the bench. You may begin your case as well. The timer has been started. You may now make your appeal to the gods."
A hideous Teufel, perhaps uglier than any in the whole mass, stepped out of the shadows and into the great flood of interrogating light. He wore a sort of loincloth around his hips and a crimson sash over his left shoulder. Xander supposed this was formal attire for the clan. At first, the creature began to speak in his native language, forgetting the presence of the human, but after only a few words, he corrected himself. "Great Ramnok, Holy Veernik! This human here is a liar and a murderer! I have on this sheet of paper several eyewitness accounts from several different tribes of demon and even one vampire. Every accounts specifically indicates that Mr. Harris is indeed the killer of Nevrik Beldratz.
"As many of us know, Mr. Nevrik was an upstanding member of the Teufel society—a pillar of the community really. Consistently, for the past 107 years, Mr. Nevrik attended every one of Your Heldic Festivals, he and his wife always bringing the freshest leg of man as an offering. Now he is with You prematurely, and all because of this human's cold-blooded rage!"
"Woah! Woah, horndog! Hold up for a second here," the Scooby barked. "How does this work for me? I allegedly murder one of your clansmen, and I get put on trial for my own life. Meanwhile, this guy's been taking the legs of humans for 107 years, and he's a martyr! Your Honor, how exactly does that work?"
The judge frowned upon Xander. "You had your turn, Harris. You can no longer offer your side of the story."
Only Xander seemed to see this as unfair, and he bowed his head in resignation. He mumbled under his breath, "Things that suck: Number One…"
"If I may, Your Honor."
"Proceed, Mr. Gramvord."
A twisted, evil smile tickled its way across the Teufel's lips. "As I was saying, Mr. Harris here is nothing more than a sick-minded individual, and he should pay for his crimes against this tribe. I thank You for Your time, Great Lords." Gramvord bowed politely at the waist and returned to the secretive, beckoning shadows.
The last few granules of sand trickled into the bottom belly of the hourglass, and as they did, the onlookers grew even more silent than before. Every fierce pair of eyes focused on Xander, leaving him small and terrified. Hundreds upon hundreds of heartbeats pounded on top of one another as Xander supposed they were waiting for a message from the gods or the judge. The latter proved to be true as the demon in the robe raised his arms up once again. "Oh, Ramnok! Oh, Veernik!" The crowd repeated the sacred names. "Let Your hands fall upon this human; let them guide him to his fate! Issue Your wrath or Your forgiveness. Show us the verdict you have made!" With another joyous chorus of the gods' names, the attention was entirely back on Xander.
"Uh, what happens now?" the man questioned innocently.
"One of two things, Harris. This is where the will of the gods comes into play. Do you see those two doors ahead of you?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"One has behind it the beautiful Vampire Slayer—"
"BUFFY?" he cried with despair.
"Alive and well, I assure you, and awaiting rescue. She wears a silken gown, the finest fabric China has to offer. She is dipped in pearls and diamonds, and, I can guarantee positively, she has never looked more radiant. Should the gods find you innocent of this crime, you will pick the door with her behind it, and you two will be blessed with happy lives together."
Xander brought his hand to his chin in thought. Pretty sweet deal, all in all. A gorgeous woman he had always sought after and secretly yearned for, and she was his for the taking. He would yank open her prison door, sweep her out and off of her feet and into his loving arms for the rest of their existences. The Scooby sighed at the splendiferous thought.
"However, behind the other door is a bloodthirsty tiger, the most savage I have ever seen. He has not been fed in three days, yet remains in exquisite athletic condition. His hunting skills are top notch, and his teeth are perfectly serrated knives. Should you be found guilty and, therefore, choose his door, he will leap out, rip out your esophagus and devour you as you slowly die."
Well, there wasn't much to think about on this one. He picks that door, and he has just issued his death certificate.
"All you have to do, Harris, is walk up to one of them and turn the knob. The door opens and you get the Slayer, you both can walk out of here alive and in love. You get the tiger, and the nicest thing I can say is that your bones will get a proper burial."
"What happens to Buffy if I am proclaimed guilty?"
"She dies too," the judge announced nonchalantly.
"Not a very good deal, if you ask me."
"It is if you are, as you say you are, innocent."
"I guess."
"Then receive your verdict, Harris! Choose your door now!" The judge pointed sharply at the two portals, all the while a stern countenance plastered on his gruesome face.
Hesitantly, the Slayerette stepped forward, his limbs shaking with fear. Right about now he needed that certainty he had looked for beforehand. And although he knew of his own innocence, he believed this draw was entirely up to Lady Luck, not to the gods these demons worshipped. Strangely, though, he founds himself quietly beseeching them. "Ramnok, Veernik? Look, guys, we haven't known each other very long, and everything, and I can't really say whether you exist or not, but if you could help me pick the right door with my Slayer behind it, I'd be ever so grateful." He felt no warmth, no assurance that the heard his prayer or even if they cared. "Yup, this is definitely number one on my list of things that suck."
With an earth-shaking sigh, Xander approached the first of the two doors—the left one. Ever so slowly, he dragged his hand up and down the face of the portal, tracing around the one outstanding knot. He held his hand over it and felt for vibrations. Next, he stood still and put his ear up to the knot to listen. Xander neither felt nor heard anything behind that door.
Finally, he moved to the right door, following the same procedure. Again, there was no evidence of anything behind it. So, the Scooby stepped back and once again examined each door. There were hardly any differences. Not a good sign.
"Make your choice, Harris! The gods do not have all day to spend on you!"
Without further ado, without a glance back to his captivated audience or his scrupulous judge, Alexander LaVelle Harris reached out with a quivering hand and vacillated momentarily over whether or not he would choose Door Number One or Door Number Two. The final decision came when that hand—that hand that had struggled with beasts both human and inhuman (and usually lost)—settled upon the door to his left. It took all of his courage, but Xander wrenched that knob, heard the click of the jamb and swung the door wide. He peered in for a second until his eyes went wide with shock. Oh, what a choice he had made!
The End