Title: The Sacrifices
Author: mispel
E-mail: PG-13
Summary: Two new players fight over a prize. Anya watches Xander and Buffy. An old enemy goes shopping. The sinister group makes preparations for a ceremony.
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.
Previously: Buffy and Xander patrolled. A mysterious figure brought something to the cemetery. An unknown group found an underground lair.
In the scrub, just beyond the edge of the cemetery, words were exchanged in a demon tongue. The first demon spoke quickly in a high pitched squeal that was at odds with its menacing features. Its face was scaly, like the rest of it, with ridges almost like horns on top of its skull. The other demon spoke hesitantly, twitched, and fidgeted. It wasn't clear if it was just its natural movement, or if it was nervous. Its skin was mottled yellow and red. The creature's hands and feet ended in long claws.
The creature motioned with a clawed hand and led the other demon to a spot behind a rock. While its back was turned, the scaly demon brought its heavy arms down on its neck. The yellow demon staggered from the force of the blow then turned its claws viciously on its attacker. The demons fought while something small and pink squirmed nearby. They fought almost in silence. The scaly demon hitting the mottled one and biting it whenever it got close enough, while his opponent answered with its claws. Blood splattered all around. Skin and scales were shredded. The opponents were too closely matched. The fight was won only after much damage was done to both. At the end of it, the victor could barely move to get his prize.
Buffy and Xander crossed the cemetery the long way. One vampire was dust, but no more seemed forthcoming so the two of them passed the time talking. The conversation had turned to the aborted wedding. OK, Buffy had turned it that way. But it was for Xander's own good.
"You sure like talking about it. It's very sadistic of you," Xander joked.
Buffy thought about that for a minute. Hideous seaweed inspired, bridesmaids' dresses, drunkenness, families and demons fighting - it was a grand disaster, like every wedding should be. And then it wasn't. There was no big tragedy. Xander just said, "no thanks". If she were betting on someone getting a normal life, it would have been him. He was halfway there - he was normal. Here was this gaudy train-wreck hurtling him into married life, and he put on the breaks.
"You were right there. You came so close. I'll never have that," Buffy said pouting a little.
"So you aren't being sadistic."
"Just insensitive and self-centered," Buffy finished for him.
"Oh, give yourself some credit, you'll dump someone at the altar one day," Xander said in a 'cheer up' voice.
"I can dream."
Actually, she had stopped dreaming about weddings a while ago. Buffy couldn't picture herself in that dress any more. Not that there was any doubt that she would look gorgeous and stunning yet tasteful and demure. But who was going to be waiting at the altar? There was still a picture in her mind of Angel in an old fashioned, morning suit. But it was just an old picture. It looked posed and unreal to her now. Kind of faded. Like something she half remembered that never happened a long time ago. She had to put away that picture. Making Xander relive his mistake to escape thinking about her own - it was a plan. It would be therapeutic. For Xander, of course.
"So. What would you do different? You couldn't make yourself realize sooner you didn't want to get married?" Buffy asked and not just as a way to get herself away from her own thoughts. "Maybe not even ask her?" she proposed hesitantly.
At first Xander looked like he didn't want to dwell on that. But then his face had this thoughtful look.
"I don't know, but I kind of wouldn't want to give that up. First time out and I got a 'yes'. Plus I got the answer to the age-old question. No, not Superman vs. Batman. The looming end of the world vs. sheer, unimaginable terror of popping the big question. No contest," Xander quipped and Buffy smiled. She remembered how happy she was for him - at those times when she wasn't filled with dread and doubt or wrapped up in her own gloom.
They were about half way through the cemetery. There were graves on all sides of them. Xander stopped and Buffy turned a step ahead of him. He looked at the ground then shook his head.
"Listen to me. I want the girl to say yes when I ask her to marry me, but I don't actually want to go through with the wedding. Nice."
"That is kind of sucky," Buffy said, not wanting to bring him down but not wanting to pull her punches either. And ditching an ex-vengeance demon at the alter - he was lucky to be alive and not hanging upside down by his entrails.
"I am just not a good guy. I deserve what I got: the demony, the murderous, the bitchy, the other demony, and redemony - the sequel - even more demony than before..."
"You are the best guy," Buffy disagreed earnestly, interrupting him. "And, hey I think that's my collection of ex's," she added, unwisely turning the conversation to her own ex-extravaganza. Realizing that she didn't want to delve into that mess, she didn't say any more. She just tried to sort out who was who on Xander's list. The bitchy was a given. He must have been doing the same with hers.
"Who's the bitchy? Not Riley, he's my favorite," Xander asked her.
"Parker."
"That little bitch. I'd forgotten about him. As should you."
She had. It seemed so long ago. Buffy found it hard to believe she had ever agonized over his rejection. That lousy, lying...
Anya was close to the cemetery so she wandered in that direction. Not that it was a good place for prospective vengeance wishers. Though, there was that time in the Bavarian cemetery. A woman summoned her to her husband's grave because she wanted him resurrected so he could relive the last, agonizing days of his illness over and over. The woman had enjoyed them so much the first time around. Wish granted. Anya sighed thinking how easy it was then.
Anya saw someone wandering among the graves. It was a balding, old man in a checkered shirt looking for a grave. He kept reading the names to himself and shaking his head. Anya walked by him almost to the center of the graveyard. She stopped when they were still just vague shapes among the graves. Even though Anya couldn't really see them, she knew them right away. The way she had always known it was Xander even when her back was turned, even when she was asleep. She knew Buffy by that low rumble of something almost vengeful. Not enough to get a wish from her. Just a low humming under all that chipper bounce. But Buffy wasn't the kind of woman that needed Anya's help. Those women were out there - on buses, and in late night diners, and even in penthouses, in beds so big they needed little stepstools to climb into them. They weren't in cemeteries. But Anya still lingered watching people who were only shadows to her. Buffy and Xander walked away, and she lost them in the dark.
A figure crouched in the shadows and sneaked around the dark and featureless side of the building. As she walked in, the bright lights of the supermarket were a refreshing change from the gloomy darkness outside. Luckily there was no one there to judge her on her appearance. Except the checkout girl and she was wearing a garish, polyester outfit with a nametag so who was she to talk.
Everything looked so bright and cheerful: the red jars of pasta sauce, the blue boxes of pasta. Even the ramen noodles looked festive with the bright yellow signs proudly proclaiming their cheapness. She walked around for a while just enjoying the shopping experience. By chance, she found herself in the right place. There were shelves of the stuff. A whole isle. She let out a big sigh. How was she supposed to pick? Some jars were in a pyramid right on the floor with a big yellow, sale sign. She 'oohed' and went over to those. She grabbed some, feeling triumphant and went to the register. She smiled at the checkout girl who smiled back wanly.
"Paper or plastic?"
She frowned. The checkout girl looked annoyed as she peered at her under her tired eyelids.
"Plastic," she decided and reached over the counter. Grabbing the checkout girl, she pulled her over to her. After a sound of protest, the girl let out high, desperate screams but not for long. Her eyes grew wide, fluttered for a moment and went dead.
Deep underground, they donned ceremonial garments according to their rank. Cutting out a space in the wall, they made a special alcove. A pedestal was set inside it and the accomplishment of years placed on it. They made sure that their knives were sharp and clean.
To be continued