Unexpected Aka Necromancer's Beginnings

Danii

Email: Danii
Fandom: Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG
Archive: yes
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: I already have a sequel planned where Xander will head to LA and get into some trouble with Wolfram and Hart, not to mention some other stuff. I'm working currently on another story called "Of Chainsaws and Shotguns..." which is of the same sort of vein, and it is a crossover with the Evil Dead movies. I am trying to write them both at once, but It's hard work and I seem to be behind on Unexpected. I actually have the next two chapters, I just haven't had the time to type them up.


Chapter 1

Xander was sick. He was so sick of being the extra. It had started almost a year ago, the feeling of uselessness that had crept up on him like some kind of icky demon he should fight. But this was one demon that Buffy and the gang only made worse, and he had no weapon to attack it with. Nor did he posses a helpful escape vehicle. It's very hard to run away from one's self.

So the feeling of uselessness had continued to grow. Every knock from a vampire, every time he was thrown aside so that the monster could get to his friends was another blow to his pride and feeling of worth. Willow at least had her witchcraft. And while that wasn't very useful during an actual battle, it had helped from the sidelines on more than one occasion. Buffy was, well, Buffy, and Giles was the Watcher, the know-it-all, kick ass dude. Spike, while annoying and a bother, could at least match the fiends blow for blow, and Anya was a font of information when it came to knowing the more intricate workings of demons and how they think. So that left him. Useless, Jimmy Olsen-wannabe Xander.

But recently, he had to admit, things had taken an even stranger turn. For the last few days, he'd had to stop himself from practically begging to go on patrol with Buffy in the graveyard. It wasn't because he wanted to be included, at least not entirely. He liked it there. It was an eerie feeling he got when he was there, an almost comfortable familiarity in that place of the dead. He could never explain it to the others; they'd probably think he was a crazy or just plain sick.

It was the only place where he felt okay. Everywhere else, even his own room, had a foreboding air to it, as if something was going to strike at him at any moment. Though no one knew it, he'd taken to bringing a blanket and pillow to a small ancient corner of the cemetery and camping out. He had to be very careful. He didn't want anyone or anything to find him there. Whoever did would either expose him or kill him. It was insane, but he couldn't sleep anywhere else.

He didn't know what to do, whom to turn to. His friends were too wrapped up in their own lives to really understand. Actually, he thought with awry mental laugh, Buffy was more wrapped up in that damn commando's arms than anything else. And Willow had whatever she had with Tara. And Anya? Like she'd love someone who slept in a cemetery half the time? Giles? He didn't even want to think about it. So where did all that leave him? It left him grabbing a sheet, a quilt, a pillow and a bit of water and heading out to the Sunnydale Memorial Cemetery.

Part 2