Title: The Sacrifices
Author: mispel
E-mail: PG-13
Summary: The gang deal with the baby. Harmony goes to Spike for help. Anya and Halfrek find the informant. The surviving demon has some trouble.
Spoilers: Early season 7
Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing
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: Harmony revealed her plans to sell the baby as a sacrifice. Anya recruited Halfrek. Harmony was rescued. Two demons fought.
The Sacrifices
Chapter 8: Persuasion
Spike heard a noise. First, there was a thumping on the stairs, then dragging sounds down the corridor. Finally, the rusty door flew open and there stood Harmony. She pulled behind her the dead body of an old man in a checkered shirt.
"I heard you were staying here. Look what I brought you! It's not a bribe. It's a basement-warming gift. Still warm and everything," she said to Spike.
Spike had been pacing the dark and dismal room of the high school basement when Harmony barged in. She stared at him with her mouth open for a while. At first, Spike just stared back at her not knowing if she was real. She didn't have that high, gaudy polish to her, like she used to, like she had been lacquered. She was messy and she reeked. Spike wasn't sure if that was evidence for or against her being real.
"Oh God, Spike, you look...worse than I do," Harmony said as she tried to straighten herself out.
She had the same hoarse catch to her unrelentingly high voice. The worst case scenario was that she was real. Based on that, Spike decided that she must be. As he looked up, Spike mumbled a sarcastic thank you to the ceiling.
Harmony pulled the old man further into the room. She frowned down on him disapprovingly.
"The shirt, I know. He doesn't look appetizing. But he's still fresh. I hardly had any. Filled up on this checkout girl. So, he's all yours," Harmony said looking kind of doubtful as Spike stared at the body.
Spike looked at the old man's peaceful face. His eyes were open and staring. They were like cloudy marbles. Spike went over to close them. He pressed down, but they were stubborn and wouldn't stay shut. They were looking up at the ceiling. Spike giggled and sat down against the wall. In the background Harmony talked and talked.
Dawn was playing with the baby's feet, and Willow was busy helping her. Xander sat with Buffy a little away from them.
"Maybe we should figure out how to get his cuteness back home before we end up in jail. Because 'we saved him from ditzy vampire kidnappers and demon sacrifice' just won't fly as a defense," Buffy said not wanting everyone to be sidetracked by the little, drool machine.
"Let's load up the car with diapers and baby formula and head to LA," Xander proposed.
"You guys can go. If I take one look, I'll want to fill out adoption papers or something. I have to stay and mop up these baby-sacrificing demons anyway," Buffy explained.
"Anya said she would take care of it," Xander told her.
Buffy waited a second for Xander to realize what he was saying. But he just shrugged.
"Anya, you ex fiancée and current vengeance demon. I think I might want to look over her work when she's done," Buffy said archly.
"He probably has parents you know," Dawn observed taking a break from burbling to the baby.
"Ooh, parents," Willow said and got on the computer.
"Maybe we should just turn on the news," Buffy suggested, kicking herself for not thinking of it sooner.
"Oh, yeah, the news." Xander grabbed the remote.
Buffy rolled her eyes and concluded that exposure to harmful, baby fumes was making everyone stupid. She heard it happened to new parents. A month or two of spit up and baby talk and they couldn't pass second grade. It probably worked even faster when the baby was extra cute. They needed to ditch this kid or start wearing Hazmat suits.
The rundown house looked like a battleground in the war of humans vs. felines. And evidently, the felines had won. That was just judging from the smell, the greenish, cat puke, and the cat hair wafting up with every step. Halfrek held her nose the whole time as they went through what was once the living room. There were no cats in sight. Probably because there was a demon bar in the basement.
The basement had paneling on the walls and the kind of cheap, little bar people stick in their rec rooms. The barstools had torn up cushions. No cat smell there, just the refreshing aroma of thriving mold and the cheapest demon booze money could buy.
Anya and Halfrek walked through the place in a rush to leave as soon as possible. Vengeance demons being spotted in a place like that would keep the demon gossip mongers going for weeks. Just as they passed a stinking drunk, blue demon, he spoke up loudly.
"You have no pride any more. You vengeance demons have sunk so low. There was a time when you waited to be summoned. Trolling bars for losers." His words were slurred with drink and he spat as he talked.
"Anyanka, I think he's talking to you," Halfrek said without turning to look at the blue demon. "He certainly wouldn't dare to speak to me that way. And it's called being proactive," Hallie explained loudly.
"Some people have better things to do than sit around waiting for some loser to summon them," Anya said mostly to herself as she looked around the bar. Anya spotted the loser she was currently looking for hunched over a thick and lumpy pink drink. She went over to him.
"Is it my day to die?" he asked shaking visibly. But that was what he usually did whenever anyone came near him.
"No, but that guy over there is asking for it," Anya told him then she got right to business. "I know Denekari's worshipers are dug in somewhere. Where are they?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but instead, Anya heard the drunk demon say, "Did they get your necklace, Anyanka?" and cackle.
Anya moved toward him as Halfrek stood aside.
"You are stupid and easily amused," Anya said in a clipped tone of someone just stating the facts.
"He's dead drunk," the bartender spoke up, trying to make excuses while moving out of range. He probably didn't like seeing his customers get killed. Especially before they paid for their drinks. Anya imagined that the killers rarely picked up the victim's bar tab.
"Dead, yes" Anya agreed.
Seeing that Anya was going to be busy, Halfrek went over to the informant to question him. But once she got close, she stepped back again.
"Anyanka, he stinks," she whined.
"In this place, how can you tell?" Anya wondered. She had to admit he did have a sickly sweet and sour smell wafting around him. She sighed.
"Ok, switch," Anya said reluctantly letting Hallie deal with the loudmouth. As Hallie approached him, the blue demon drew back.
"I'm not afraid of you," he said getting off the barstool and tipping it over. He put up his dukes, or his three fingered hands balled into fists. "If I'm going down, I'm going down fighting," he said standing on his unsteady bowed legs.
"Oh, honey, no you're not," Hallie told him almost kindly and with pity, then she slammed his head into the bar.
If Spike looked at the dead man too long, the dead face changed. The eyes rolled up and looked at him and the lips stretched into a smile. Spike closed his eyes, but then he saw other things. The whole time Harmony talked. She babbled something about a baby, and Spike realized that what she said didn't make any sense.
"You're talking gibberish. You trying to upstage me?" Spike pointed an accusing finger at her as he spoke.
"The slayer. You know, you have a big love jones for her? She, or one of her dorky friends, has my kid. This baby sacrifice I carried all the way from LA," Harmony said sounding exasperated at his stupidity.
Spike didn't like that she mentioned her. Throwing his arm over his eyes, he tried to block out the glare that rimmed the jagged edge of the ceiling. Sometimes the ceiling opened like a lid of a tin can, and he could see way up. But he had to be careful - if it opened in the daytime, he'd be burned. His roof was the floor, and it was going to peel off and throw him into Hell. Harmony didn't notice.
"LA isn't that far," Spike pointed out sensibly to distract himself from the threatening ceiling. But then his mind started to shift. "Did you get lost? Did you fall down a hole? I lost a shiny, new marble down the grate and into the sewer. Did you see it?"
Harmony didn't answer about the marble. Rude cow. Still talking about some brat. Not making sense.
"It is most of the way on foot. With a crying baby. When you have to lug baby food so it doesn't scream all the time. And diapers to catch all the poop it poops. And it poops because you have to feed it, or it will scream in your ear the whole time."
Spike smiled. Harmony was a gerbil running a wheel. In a whiny voice, she told him how she had only stashed the baby in the bushes for a minute. That's all it takes. That's all he ever needed.
"I went to get something to eat, or I was going to eat that baby and lose out on the reward. Plus the baby had to eat too. I got a nice checkout girl at the supermarket. 'Paper or plastic?' That always stumps me," Harmony frowned remembering the effort.
"There are no good deeds, no right choices, no rewards," Spike told her in a monotone. It was one of his lessons. He had memorized it despite himself. The dead, old man seemed to nod his head.
"I got plastic. And sure there is a reward. It's this big, jewely thingy. A demon in LA said he would give me a million bucks for it," Harmony squealed.
Spike dropped his head into his hands. There was Harmony yammering and a voice whispering too low for him to hear. There was a sound in his ears like water rushing. Too much noise. But he knew that behind all that noise there was silence. If he could only break through. Spike slammed his head backwards into the wall. As Harmony started to notice that everything wasn't right with him, she frowned.
"Why are you so filthy and gross and crispy? Your hair isn't even slicked back. And why are you talking like you're on drugs? Are you on drugs?" Harmony asked. "Maybe you should eat something. Like this nice, old guy I brought you," she offered.
Spike could smell the old man's blood drying. Spike's skull reverberated and he stared up at the ceiling. Its jagged edge still glowed. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to see the sun again. He remembered it used to be a nice feeling to have sun on your face. Warming you, brightening everything, shining off the gray water, making it all look just a little nicer.
"Whatever. Are you going to help me get the Deadcanary Cluster thingy? You can have a finder's fee," Harmony offered, her voice going high and pleading at the end.
"The what?" Spike asked as his head snapped forward and he stared hard at Harmony. Suddenly it was like a very sharp knife had cut through his brain. The broiling mud that was his thoughts became clear, like a glass of cool water.
"Finder's fee," Harmony enunciated.
"No. The other thing. What did you call it?" Spike's voice had an edge to it, and Harmony noticed. She tried hard to get her answer right.
"The jeweled thingy? It's called the Something Cluster. Starts with a D. It's this big deal. Good thing I killed the demon that told me about it, or everyone would know." Harmony smiled pleased with herself.
"Denekari's Cluster. Who has it?" Spike demanded.
"That means you'll help me! Yey!"
As Harmony jumped up and down clapping her hands with glee, Spike just stared at her and focused on being sane.
The scaly demon placed the pink bundle by his feet. He sat down in a dark spot between some rocks. He couldn't be late with his delivery, but he was hurt. Though he healed fast, he needed to rest or his wounds would open again. The skinny demon had fooled him into thinking it would be easy to kill. But the long, sharp claws had cut him badly. The scales on half his back were peeled off. Some of his teeth were chipped, mostly in the exposed second row. His mangled leg was the biggest problem. If he could only rest for a little while. And if only that thing he carried would stop making that high, piercing noise.
To be continued