ftp.xmission.com/2014.06.ftp.xmission.com.tar/ftp.xmission.com/pub/lists/buffyfic/archive/buffyfic.9709

Internet Message Format | 1997-09-30 | 528KB

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3 The God of Nine Walls Part 4/? by JJ
Date: 01 Sep 1997 01:31:44 -0400

Here's part 4.  Next Beach Blanket Buffy to come soon.

All comments and feedback greatly appreciated.

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:  There's some kissing and suggestion of violence, but nothing you
wouldn't see on TV.
Classification: UTB
Summary:  Inspired by Anya's original Gone... story, I wrote a sequel that
followed Willow and Angel to Europe, where they met the infamous Brother
Luca, who took Willow away to train with the Order of Our Lady of Demonic
Assassinations, while Angel returned to Sunnydale.  I had left enough loose
threads in that story to warrant a third part and this is it.  Both Gone...
and Gone II can be found on the Slayer's Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend
reading the previous stories, but if you are not of a mind to do so, all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 4

login:  WXB1997
password: *********
domain:  OLODA.net.htm

/users

WXB1997, Luca

WXB1997:  Hello, Lazlo.
Luca:  Just in time.  How are you, little girl?  Still determined to save
the world?
WXB1997:  Trying.
Luca:  How is your boy?
WXB1997:  I think he's fine.  It's strange to see him again.  He kissed me.
Luca o O (Did she get lucky?)
WXB1997:  ha ha.  No, mom showed up.  it was awkward.  bad timing.
Luca:  I should think so.
WXB1997:  I don't think I can stand to be here much longer.  too many
memories.  I miss Cortona.
Luca:  in cortona there is nothing but the threat of death.
WXB1997:  I grew up in Sunnydale.  death is pretty much the status quo.  I
don't think I feel safe anywhere.
Luca:  Pity.  BTW,  Hecate came by.  she's furious with you.
WXB1997:  Well, won't she have to get over it?  ;-)
Luca:  I suppose.  She may pop up over there, just so you know.
WXB1997:  I'll be on the lookout.  I gotta get some sleep.
Luca:  Do an old man a favor and be careful, okay?
WXB1997:  If I don't succeed, it won't matter how careful I was.  We'll all
be in trouble.
Luca:  Sometimes a little shakeup isn't so bad.
WXB1997:  maybe.  okay bye.  love you.
Luca: Love you too.

WXB1997 exits.
----
Lazlo Hunyadi sighed and closed his powerbook.  It was late morning in
Cortona and the sun filtered through the gauzy curtains.  A pair of open
french doors led out into a small garden  with a fountain and many
flowering bushes.  Lazlo waved to his attendant who came over and grabbed
the handles of his wheelchair.

"It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day,"  he observed.

"Of course," the attendant said cheerfully.  "Are there any others in Cortona?"

Lazlo grunted.  "Well, best enjoy it while we can."
----
The scent of cooking blueberries woke her up.  For a second, she was
disoriented.  Where was she?  She sat up and remembered she was in Xander's
study, actually the second bedroom in his house, converted into an office.
There was a futon he kept in there for guests and for times when he was too
tired to stumble to his own bed.  She got off the futon and threw on an
oversized t-shirt and socks.  The pendant she wore had gotten tangled and
she untwisted it.  She followed the aroma to the kitchen where Xander was
standing in front of the stove, whistling contentedly.  He looked
deliciously rumpled, his hair standing up at an odd angle, his white
t-shirt and baggy grey cotton shorts hanging off his body to advantage.

"He cooks!" she laughed, attracting his attention, as she plopped down at
one of the chairs at the breakfast table.

"Sometimes he even takes out the garbage!"  he responded.

"Ooh, hands off, girls.  He's mine," she said drolly.

He laughed and brought over two plates, setting one in front of her.  "Two
orders of Alexander-Harris-patented blueberry chocolate chip pancakes.  The
secret is love,"  he joked.

She stared at the plate uncertainly.  "Um," she said slowly.  "I do not
eat...pancakes."

His face went from quizzical misunderstanding to ashen realization.  "Oh.
Wow.  Sorry.  I feel like such a heel.  Umm...I forgot about about your
dietary...requirements."  He looked at her helplessly.

"It's okay.  I'll eat later," she said, wondering if she had offended him.
"They smell wonderful.  I wish I could enjoy them."

He sat down next to her and Willow got a good look at both of their
reflections in the glass tabletop.  It occurred to her that morning light
made their ages more apparent, his warm face on the road to middle age,
whereas she still looked like the sixteen year old girl whose life the
Anointed One had destroyed.  She saw him watching her in the glass and
looked up and met his eyes.  He set his fork down, resting an elbow on the
table.  "I didn't realize how old I look," he said, a mixture of surprise
and disappointment in his voice.

"I like the way you look," she said.

"I feel like a dirty old man, kissing you last night," he fussed.  "I look
like your father."

She giggled and got up, going over to him and sitting in his lap.  She
wrapped her arms around his neck.  "Should I call you Daddy Harris?" she
cooed.

"Don't joke about it,"  he responded.  "What was I thinking?  You're not
even human..."

She stopped his mouth with hers.  After a moment's hesitation, he kissed
her back intently, rubbing the back of her neck.

"You know, I've waited 18 years for you to kiss me like that," she said.
"I'm not going to let your flaking out keep me from enjoying it."

"I guess, technically, you're the same age as me," he rationalized, not
stopping the gentle motion of his hand.

She nodded.  "Besides, if people say anything, I'll just say you like 'em
young.  And perky."

He grinned, then stopped as he caught sight of the pendant hanging from her
neck.  "What's this ?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered.  "I found it.  Do you recognize it?"

He lifted it.  It was a small trinket, an oblong oval of tarnished silver
with fine lines carefully etched into it.  He couldn't tell, but it looked
like the lines were actually some sort of script.  In the center was a
small ruby, like an eye staring dully at him.  "It looks old,"  he said.
"The detailwork is exquisite.  Could I borrow it?  There's some people at
the university who could probably date it, if you like?"

She smiled and unworked the clasp behind her neck.  The necklace slipped
into Xander's hand.  "Sure," she said, then, leaning towards him, as he set
the necklace on the table, "Where were we?"

He put a finger on her mouth.  "Stopping before you keep me from going to
work."

"Call in sick," she suggested.

He laughed, "I can't do that.  It's finals and the students would form a
lynch mob if I weren't there for office hours."

She pouted exaggeratedly, then got off his lap..

"It's just a couple of hours," he promised, as he headed to his bedroom.
"When I get back, we'll go do something.  Take a drive or something."

As he disappeared, Willow looked at the front page of the Sunnydale
Gazette.  The lead story was the gruesome murder of a St. Hebereke High
School gymnast.  She had been disembowelled  and her face had been
surgically removed.  "Poor girl," Willow thought, recognizing the picture
of the pretty and smiling African American girl.  Many public leaders were
insisting on reinstituting the curfew that had been repealed 8 years
earlier, but Willow knew that no curfew would have saved Melissa Jackson of
St. Hebereke High School.  The girl had been the Slayer and whatever had
killed her would not be stopped by mortal law.  Furthermore, Willow was
certain that there were going to be more dead very, very soon.
----
end Part 4





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Secret World of Willow (03/?) by D.Spence
Date: 01 Sep 1997 14:13:00 -0400 (EDT)

I would like to dedicate this chapter of my story to the late
Princess Diana. She was an inspiration to many people and will be
missed. May she finally find the peace the press denied her.

TITLE: The Secret World of Willow Rosenberg
AUTHOR: Dalton S. Spence
EMAIL ADDRESS: <[e-mail]>
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: This story cannot be sold or used for profit
    in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use
    only or posted in fanfic archives for general distribution, but
    must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.
SPOILER WARNING: Occurs after "Prophecy Girl"
RATING: PG13
CONTENT WARNING: This story depicts scenes of violence and/or their
    aftermath. If depictions of this nature disturb you, you may
    wish to read something other than this story.
CLASSIFICATION: C - Crossover with "The Secret World of Alex Mack"
SUMMARY: The new girl at Sunnydale has a weird secret all her own -
    one that Willow will soon share.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Giles, the Slayerettes and all other characters
    who have appeared in the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"
    together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole
    copyright property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., Kuzui
    Enterprises, Sandollar Television, 20th Century Fox Television
    and the Warner Brothers Television Network. Alex Mack, her
    family, Danielle Atron and all other characters who have
    appeared in the series "The Secret World of Alex Mack" together
    with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright
    property of Viacom International, MTV Networks, Nickelodeon
    Television Network, Nickelodeon Productions, Hallmark
    Entertainment, and Lynch Entertainment. No copyright
    infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction.
    All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are
    the sole property of the author. I'm too broke to be sued,
    anyway. (But if anybody thinks my literary skill presents that
    much a risk, feel free to *HIRE* me!)

                         *   *   *   *   *

                The Secret World of Willow Rosenberg
                      (a BtVS/SWAM crossover)
            by Dalton S. Spence <[e-mail]>

         "I guess I'm not so ordinary anymore." - Alex Mack

*Part 3*

After the defeat of the Master, the surviving vampires of Sunnydale
made their new headquarters well away from his former lair. And who
could blame them; not only did none of them want to risk being
caught in the Hellmouth's grip as the Master had been for seventy
years, it was *much* too close to the Slayer's headquarters for
anybody's comfort. There had even been a brief movement to relocate
to the nearby town of Paradise Valley. This was quickly struck down
by the Anointed One and his allies, who pointed out (after they had
destroyed the vampires who started the movement, of course) that at
least in Sunnydale they could keep a watch on the Slayer.

"Keep your friends close," he said, waving at the piles of dust
covering the floor, "and your enemies even closer. The Master taught
me this, and I'm not about to dispute him. If any of you do, feel
free to come forward so we can ... discuss it. Any takers?" There
was a brief grumbling among the assembled vampires, but in the end
reason (and fear) prevailed, and they filed quietly to proceed with
the night's hunting. A few would be lost to the Slayer, but that was
far better than the certain death that opposing Colin would trigger.
Finally, there were only three left in the chamber; Colin and his
two chief minions. "That went nicely, I think," said Colin with a
satisfied sigh. "Nothing like a little terror to keep things orderly
in the ranks, like the Master always said."

At this comment the smaller one (a perky looking brunette in a neat
blue business suit) grimaced. Colleen had been a very successful
Hollywood talent agent specializing in juvenile performers before
her fateful detour through Sunnydale, so she was used to handling
young egomaniacs with tremendous power. She quickly established a
solid rapport with the Master's heir apparent, becoming his chief
advisor on policy and politics. "I think you should be careful about
that. Quoting the Master, I mean," she said, shifting nervously
under her leader's glare. "The Master may have been an outstanding
leader in his day, but that day is past. This is *your* day now."

"She's right, you know," the giant who stood on Colin's other side
commented quietly. "Back in my days with the outfit, it was known if
the don died the heir had to show that he had his own power as well
as the blessing of his predecessor, or he would lose respect. You
showed your power tonight, but it sounded like you were still
following the Master's instructions. For now, it works; the others
still don't really believe he was defeated. When they do, watch out!
Using his name will make them wonder if you're going to lead them
down the same path."

Guido Salvatore may have looked like a common thug, but he had first
class mind, and a lifetime of experience dealing with violent and
bloodthirsty individuals. For most of his life he had been a classic
"wise guy", a loyal soldier in the Torelli family, until he made a
fatal error. A greedy lieutenant had answered Guido's badly timed
accusation of `skimming' with three bullets in the chest, leaving
him to die in a Sunnydale back alley. That he had lasted long enough
to be found by Colin on a hunting expedition was a testament to his
iron will and robust constitution. After cleaning up his `unfinished
business', Guido became Colin's utterly loyal minion, even to the
point of risking his existence by offering unpopular advice when he
felt it warranted.

Fortunately, both of his advisors had offered their counsel with the
proper respect (mainly by waiting until they were alone), so Colin
felt no need to make examples of them. As the Master had taught him
(//Damn! They're right, I *DO* have to watch that.//), destroying
your tools because you don't like what they produce is wasteful and
foolish, unless you have spare ones of equal quality. (At least, he
told himself that was the reason; he couldn't admit even to himself
that sometimes he missed the familiar comfort of parental figures.)

He was still groping for a response that would acknowledge their
point while establishing his authority, when his keen senses noticed
a slight commotion in the corridor outside. There was a pause, then
a light tapping on chamber's doorway. "Enter," he called out, "and
this had better be important."

The timid vampire who entered was former minor bureaucrat known to
the clan as the postmaster. It was his responsibility to watch the
news for items of importance, and to relay communications from their
agents on the surface. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he wordlessly
gave Colin the envelope he had found a the dead drop point below a
storm drain. //I hope this is good news,// he thought as he tried to
make himself as small a target as possible. //We could all use some
for a change.// He had only had the job a week, and did not wish for
the fate of his predecessor; ever since the Slayer arrived, this job
had an extremely high attrition rate.

He was lucky this time. "Our agent above reports he is in place to
watch the activities of the Slayer and her friends," Colin exclaimed
with as smile. With a slight giggle he added, "He's even managed to
make this a part of his official mortal job. How ironic! I predict
that when the day of our domination over the mortal world comes,
*THEY* will have done most of the work for us themselves." The
Master had actually made this prediction to him in private, but
there was no need for anyone else to know that.

                         *   *   *   *   *

Willow was badly in need of a computer fix. After she had accidently
crashed the computer lab network for the third time, Ms. Calendar
had `excused' Willow from the rest of the class until `this curse'
(as she put it) was lifted. Usually Willow would have stayed later,
using the library computer to surf the net for info to help Buffy
with her Slaying, do her homework from Ms. Calendar's class, or try
to Giles-proof the library card-catalogue (instituting the fuzzy
logic and context search algorithms was a fascinating challenge),
but it too fell prey to the `curse' when she tried to use it. She
and Alex had stayed a bit late in the library where Alex had tried
to teach Willow how to control the EM effects of her new powers,
with little luck. When Alex had offered Willow the use of the
specially shielded desktop that her sister had left behind when
she'd gone for MIT, she had jumped at the chance.

"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" Alex called out as she entered the house with
Willow in tow. This was mainly for form, since she didn't really
expect them to get home first. Her dad had been working overtime
setting up the new lab, and her mother was probably on the way back
from the community college where she was taking courses to get her
degree. Neither usually got home before seven any more, so they had
gotten into the habit of having dinner at eight. There should be
plenty of time for them to practice.

The Mack's had a six month lease on the house they were renting, but
because they were planning to buy a place before the lease was up,
most of the boxes littering the living room and the den remained
unopened. After searching a bit for the phone, Willow called her dad
to let him know where she was. (For once she could tell the truth;
she had gone to a friend's house to study.)

"Yes Dad, Alex *IS* a girl! ... I promise I'll call Xander before I
leave so he can walk me home ... Don't worry, everything will be
fine. How's mom doing?" There was a brief pause, then a relieved
smile lit up her face. "That's GREAT! Listen, I've got to go now,
Alex's computer isn't unpacked yet and I promised to help her set it
up. Give my love to Mom. Bye"

"I take it that was good news?" asked Alex.

"The BEST! My Mom woke up this afternoon, and everything is going to
be just fine. She's coming home from the hospital tomorrow. Since
they can't find a reason for her severe anemia, and there are no
other serious injuries, they have no reason to keep her."

"Does she remember the attack?"

"If she does, Dad didn't mention it. But how did you ...?"

"I was sort of there in the alley, and heard you talking to Xander.
I know it happened, but nothing else. And the anemia thing was a
dead give-a-way. How did it happen? I thought vampires couldn't
enter a house without invitation. Or is that a myth?"

"No, it's true enough but didn't apply in this case. She was coming
to school to pick me up after dark, when five vampires jumped her.
If Buffy hadn't been right there.... And Xander, he was magnificent!
He threw himself right at them, knocked Mom clear of them and stood
over her holding them back with a cross while Buffy took care of the
first two. The others ran off when the police showed up."

"What did you tell them? It must have looked kind of weird."

"Fortunately, they caught a glimpse of the attackers running away,
and accepted our story of muggers. At least the younger one did. I
think the older one knew what was going on; he took a look at her
neck, then ordered the ambulance and told them to have a transfusion
ready. And the E.M.T.s seemed a little too efficient about it, too."

"If there have been as many attacks as you say, they would have to
know, wouldn't they? Even if they couldn't make an official report
about it? I mean, the physical evidence has to be there; what other
conclusion could they draw?"

Willow considered a moment, then nodded. "Could be. I hope so. I
hate to the of all the unsuspecting cops out there relying on just
their guns for protection. If we get that computer of yours unpacked
I could check it out."

"Right! This way," said Alex, leading the way up the stairs to her
bedroom. One half of the room was filled with unopened boxes, all
marked Annie's this and Annie's that. The other half looked more
normal; Alex had unpacked most of her clothes and personal stuff,
and had made an attempt to make the place more homey. While she had
taken her parent's advice and not put up her posters or set up the
stereo, Alex had put up her `gallery'; a cork board with her latest
photographic efforts carefully mounted.

Willow looked around for the box containing the computer, finally
seeing it at the top of a tall stack of boxes. "Alex, where do you
keep the step lad... Oh ya, right. Could you get it down please? I
don't want drop it."

Alex moved to the window. "First rule: ALWAYS check for witnesses."
She'd done this so many times that she had closed the blinds and
turned away before her brain registered the sight of a dark figure
leaning against a lamppost watching her house.

--
          +-------------------------------------------------+
          | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. <[e-mail]>|
          | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html |
          +-------------------------------------------------+



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Author's Notes (0/0)
Date: 01 Sep 1997 12:39:28 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation -- Author's Notes

        At ComicCon in July, Joss said that he intended every season of
Buffy to be somewhat self-contained.  That if the show ended abruptly there
would be a feeling of completion, of closure.  In later interviews, he said
that was one of the reasons why there was so much story in Prophesy Girl --
the need to tie everything up if BtVS turned out to be a twelve-episode
miniseries.  And there is closure in Prophesy Girl.  Xander and Buffy have
their relationship out in the open (so, too, do Xander and Willow).  Faced
with the loss of her life, Buffy has accepted her role as Slayer.  Giles
has confided his sacred mission to another person and proven that Buffy
means more to him than the Slayer, and Angel, once and for all, has chosen
sides in the fight between mortals and vampires.
        However.
        The ending of Prophesy Girl left enough loose threads to keep the
three Fates busy for quite awhile.  Joss will answer those questions for us
in a week or two.  This quartet of stories is my answer.  There are one
each for Buffy, Xander, Willow and Giles.  (And for the people who wonder
why there isn't one for Angel... just wait.  <g>)
        The inspiration for these stories must belong to the wonderful
group known as the Sunnydale Slayers, who in three months of existence have
grown very dear to my heart.  Casual conversation on possible plotlines for
next season made me wonder what the Slayerettes were doing over the summer
and... well, let's just say that the SunS learned to regret it when I
either spammed the list with contributions (Xander told me his story in
THREE DAYS!!!) or had days and weeks of dry spells.  I love you all dearly,
especially Chris and Perri (for dragging me into this &*%#$! fandom, yadda
yadda yadda, you've heard this before) and my co-List Mom Dianne, who got
sucked in with me.  <g>
        These stories are independent of each other and can be read in any
order after the prologue (the only short thing about this story).  For
those of you used to my sporadic Forever Knight fictions... I think any one
story in Summer Vacation is longer than my FK stories put together.  <sigh>
        Necessary evil:  Buffy, Giles, Xander, Willow, Angel, Cordelia,
Hank Summers, Wendell, Ms. Calendar, etc, etc, all belong to Joss Whedon,
Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox.  Anyone else you don't recognize belongs
to me (although Val and I seem to be time-sharing Deirdre).  Any character
I create is available for loan, but please contact me if you do so (I want
to make sure to keep an eye out for your stuff).  I'm making no money off
of this endeavor; I do it for nothing more than love of the characters
(even Xander, who deserves to die for what he did to me) and love of
feedback.
        Praise, flames, comments, chocolate and tall, dark, undead angsty
guys to [e-mail]
        And now... on with the show.
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Prologue (1/1)
Date: 01 Sep 1997 12:42:21 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

Prologue

        Buffy tilted her face up to the sunlight, leaning back on her
elbows.  She'd spread a beach towel on the grass in her back yard, and was
intent on soaking up some rays.  "This is the life.  No homework.  No
classes.  Sleeping late.  Partying later."
        "And no vampire slayage," Xander added, bouncing a tennis ball
against the back wall of her house.
        "That's the best part for me," Willow said sleepily, curled up in
the grass with a kitten in her lap.
        "Things have been quiet," Giles allowed from where he was sitting
in the shade, a tall glass of iced tea at his elbow.  Unlike the California
teenagers, he was not enjoying the brilliant sunlight.  But with the school
closed for earthquake repair, and since he was rather disinclined to spend
any time there, he was reduced to joining his little band in the great
outdoors.  Buffy's mother was spending the day at the gallery, so they did
not have to explain what the librarian was doing hanging with the
teenagers.
        The methodical thunk-thunk of the tennis ball lulled them all for
several long moments.  "Three months of nothing to do, no where to be...
hey, wait, Will." Xander suddenly turned, and the ball bounced back to
clunk him on the head.  "Aren't you going to that computer camp thingie?"
        Willow sat up, wide-awake.  The kitten yowled a bit plaintively at
the sudden motion.  "Yeah!  I completely forgot."
        "Whoa, brakes.  What's up?" Buffy pushed her sunglasses up onto her
head to look at her friend.
        "There's this really exclusive computer camp, up in San Jose.
Actually, it's run by a company in San Jose, but the camp itself is in a
really cool old house in Napa Valley.  You have to get on a waiting list to
get into this camp.  I've been on it for two years."
        "But..  you're leaving?" Buffy looked tragic.  "How long?"
        "Um, well...  six weeks.  It's really intensive."
        "And yes, this is how she wants to spend her summer." Xander shook
his head, baffled beyond measure.
        "It's not like you're going to be here yourself, Buffy," Willow
argued.
        "What's this?" Giles pulled himself out of _Le Roman de la Rose_
and looked at his Slayer.  "Are you leaving Sunnydale?"
        Buffy pushed the glasses back down onto her nose and shrugged,
lying back.  "I'm spending the summer in LA.  The joint custody agreement
was that I spent summers with my dad.  But I thought I'd be back here some
weekends," she added, pouting.
        "Great.  Willow gone, Buffy gone.  Guess it's just you and me,
Giles, eh?"  Xander resumed bouncing his ball.  Willow curled up with her
cat.  Buffy got bronze.
        Thunk-thunk.
        "Actually, now that I think on it, it would probably be best if I
returned to England," Giles finally said.
        The three teenagers all turned on him.  "What?" "No!" "You mean...
forever?"
        "No, certainly not permanently." Giles set aside his book and
leaned forward in his chair.  "But I left rather...  abruptly.  There
are...  things I need to attend to.  I have possessions...  books.  If I am
going to reside here, I will have to decide what to do with my life in
England."
        "Oh," Buffy said, lying back again.  There didn't seem to be much
to say after that.
        "Will, when are you leaving?"
        "Um...  next Wednesday, I think.  Mom's driving me up the coast."
        "And I'm leaving on Monday." Buffy sighed.  "Well, we'll have a
nice, quiet summer.  Right?"
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Buffy (1/3)
Date: 01 Sep 1997 12:44:34 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Buffy
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        It all felt reassuringly normal.   She and Willow shared one of the
small, high tables at the Bronze, watching Xander do his impression of an
epileptic fit on the dance floor.   The music was loud and the place was
packed.   It was Sunday night.   Next morning, Hank Summers would be
picking Buffy up and taking her to LA, making this night at the Bronze
something of a going-away party.
        "Did you talk to Cordelia before she left?" Willow asked, taking a
sip of her soda.
        Buffy shrugged slightly.   "No, not really.   She was really hyped
on going to study fashion in Paris for the summer.   And...  well, I don't
think she wanted to talk to me.   I'm willing to admit that she is not the
lowest slime of the universe for the sole reason that she saved your life.
But I don't know if I want to be buds with her, you know?"
        "I don't know.   She was pretty cool that night.   She bit one of
the vampires, you know."
        Buffy blinked.   "She what?   Didn't you get that the wrong way round?"
        Willow grinned, although the memory of that night still made her
look a bit haunted.   "Nope.   She bit one of them.   It was cool."
        The two girls were silent for a moment.   "He's watching me again,
isn't he?"  Buffy asked finally.
        Willow let out a long, slow breath.   "I wondered if you had
noticed.   You haven't talked since that night?"
        Idly, Buffy stirred her drink.   "No.   He disappeared into the
dawn...  well, the pre-dawn.   And since I still don't know where he
lives...."
        "...and Xander won't tell..." both girls chorused.
        "...then I'm stuck waiting for him to approach me again," Buffy
concluded.   Suddenly determined, she slid off the high stool.
        Willow smiled.   "So much for waiting?"
        "Hey, you know me, seize the moment.   Live life, 'cause tomorrow
you just might bite the big one.   Ooo, bad pun.   Didn't mean it.   I'm
babbling, aren't I?   Why am I so nervous?"
        "'Cause you're in love.   It happens."  Willow kept smiling, but it
turned a little misty.
        Buffy took two steps forward and gave Willow a big hug.   "If I
don't see you before my dad shows up, have a ton of fun with your...  um,
computers.   I'll write.   A lot."  Then, squaring her shoulders with
determination under the black leather jacket that was way too hot for a
California June night, she headed for the shadowed corner where she had
felt a pair of laser-intense dark eyes on her.
        She half-expected him to slide away before she reached him.   If he
didn't want her to see him, she wouldn't see him.   But he remained where
he was, leaning up against the back wall, light and shadow chasing across
his face with the flickering lights.
        "Hey," she greeted him.
        "How are you feeling?"  The question was low-voiced and
uninflected.   He didn't move, didn't reach out to her.   Just watched her
out of those eyes, a gaze that was almost like a physical touch.
        "Alive, thanks to you.  And Xander."
        Angel shrugged slightly, the first indication that he was made of
flesh rather than stone.   "Xander saved your life.   I couldn't do
anything for you."
        "You found me," Buffy countered.   "I'd say you and Xander pretty
much split the honors where my life is concerned.   You know," she said
diffidently, not meeting his eyes, "I've heard somewhere that if you save a
person's life, that person belongs to you."
        Angel suddenly pushed up from the wall, turning to walk away.
"I'll give it back to you, then.  Go live it."
        "Hey."  Buffy caught his arm as he passed her.   "What is *up* with
you?" she asked furiously.   "You just totally booked after that night.
Why did you go?"
        Without turning to face her, Angel shook his head.   "I thought we
agreed that this was never meant to be."
        "But that was...  before."  Buffy swallowed, suddenly at a loss for
words.
        "Before what?"
        "Before...  the Master died.   Before the Hellmouth closed.
Just...  before."
        Slowly, Angel turned to face her.   "And you think that changes things?"
        "Doesn't it?" she asked in a very small, fragile voice.
        Angel looked down for a moment.   When his eyes met hers again, his
were no longer deep and soulful.   They were yellow and gleaming with a
barely-restrained hunger.   He crowded her back against the wall, his arms
bars on either side of her head.   "Look at me!  This is what I am,
remember?"
        Buffy turned her face away.   "Quit it!"
        "No.   Listen to me.   *Nothing has changed.*  The Master is dead.
The one who made me is dead.   But I am still a vampire.   You're still
the Slayer.   We are enemies."
        "I trust you."
        Angel pulled away as though burned.   After a long moment, he faced
her again.  He looked like a normal, mortal guy, maybe a little older than
she was, but not enough for anyone to say anything.   "Maybe I don't trust
myself," he said, his voice raw.
        Buffy really, really wanted to touch him then, but she kept her
hands to herself.   Okay, he needed time.   Good thing that's what she
could give him.   "I just wanted to tell you...  I'm leaving town for a
bit.   I'm going to LA for three months, to spend the summer with my dad."
        The throbbing wail of a guitar was the only sound for a few
moments.   "I...  think that's a good thing," Angel said finally.
        "Giles said you had a phone.  I want the number.  I want to talk to
you."
        "That's not a good idea."  Only someone watching him as closely as
Buffy would have seen his eyelids flinch in reaction.
        "I don't care that it's not a good idea," Buffy said passionately.
"You won't let me see you.   Fine, your choice, although I don't get it.
But I want to talk to you.   Angel...  I need you."  Her voice broke
slightly.   "Please."
        Angel closed his eyes for a moment.   When he opened them again,
Buffy couldn't read him.   She was sure he was going to turn her down,
until he asked, "Got a pencil?"
********
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Beeeeeeeeeep.
        "Hey, you there?   Hello?  I don't know why I'm surprised.   I
mean, you've got a phone, you obviously have an answering machine too.
Okay, I suppose it was a little too much for me to expect that you'd
actually answer the phone.   Duh, huh?   Anyway, having a wonderful time,
wish you were here.   I mean that.   The 'wish you were here' part.   I was
going to ask you to come to LA with me that night in the Bronze, but you
were so totally freaked on the idea of even giving me your number that I
figured you wouldn't be that hyped to come with me.   Yikes, answering
machine message from hell.   I hate these things, I can't stop talking when
I get one.   I, uh... I miss you.   Call me.   My dad's number is area code
310, 825-3401."
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Beeeeeeeeeep.
        "Had a lovely time today.   Went shopping, and got this killer
bikini.   It's silvery and my dad is going to wig when he sees it.   Saw
The Lost World.   Talk about people who need to grow some brains.   I could
have just slain that dino pronto and gotten it over with...   I wish you'd
pick up.   I know you're there.   Angel?   Talk to me please."
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Beeeeeeeeeep.
        "Okay, obviously, pestering you into giving me your phone number
was a bad idea.   It's testosterone poisoning, right?   Anything you get
forced into doing is bad.   But I'm not going to apologize.   You're just
going to have to deal with the fact that I'm calling you.   A lot.   My dad
wants to know who I'm talking to.   Of course, he doesn't realize I'm
talking to a stupid machine, he just thinks I'm dominating the
conversation.   So speak up some, will you?   Later.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Beeeeeeeeeep.
        "Angel?   Call me, please.   I'm in trouble, and I need your help."
********
        Buffy had surprised herself by actually having fun in LA.   There
weren't any old friends to look up (the ones she hadn't staked avoided her
like the plague now) but there were a lot of kids her age in her father's
new neighborhood.   It was the first chance she'd had in a really long time
to just be a kid, to go to movies and go shopping and go to the beach and
just hang out.  She missed Willow and Giles and Xander and her mom, but she
could handle it.   Normalcy was nice.   She could deal.
        Her dad was cool too.   Hank Summers was throwing himself into
being an awesome father.   He took a day off of work and they went to Magic
Mountain, just the two of them.   But the best times were when they just
spent time together, father/daughter stuff.   Buffy tried cooking for him,
and the resulting call to the fire department meant that they ate out most
evenings.   But after a year of it being just her and her mom, she was
happy to be spending time with her dad.
        Then she felt someone watching her.
        At first she thought it was just her imagination.   Stress,
post-traumatic Slaying disorder, bad juju, something, anything other than
phantom eyes following her wherever she went.   She felt it all the time,
daylight and dark, so it wasn't a vampire, but she had learned that there
were nasties that walked in the sunlight, too.   She'd called Giles'
apartment in London and had the phone ring endlessly, she wasn't about to
bother Willow with this, Xander would likely find a way to rush out to LA
and get himself in trouble, and she sure as hell wasn't going to go begging
to Angel for help if he wouldn't even pick up the phone and talk to her.
        And then her dad disappeared.   Poof.   She came back from Batman
and Robin in time for them to go to the Barefoot Cafe for dinner, and
found... nothing.   No note, no struggle, an empty house that echoed with
its lack of noise.   Trusting instincts that she didn't even think to
question, she didn't call the police or her mother.
        She called Angel.
        The phone was picked up two point three seconds after she told him
she needed his help.   "I'm here," he said simply.
        Buffy closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall in the living
room of her dad's condo.   "Angel?   My dad's missing.   And I think
someone's been following me."
        There was a very, very long silence.   Finally, Angel quietly said,
"I'll be there."
        Buffy hung up the phone, and just stood for a long moment, mind
blank with worry and fear.  The afternoon sunlight slid golden into the
room, making the white-painted walls and chrome furniture glow as though
lit from within.  Fashion magazines were scattered on the low coffee table,
and tapes littered the top of the big-screen TV.  She'd only been at her
dad's condo a couple weeks, and it looked as though a major disaster had
hit it.
        Wherever she went, chaos followed.
        Angel couldn't be there for a least a few more hours.  He had to
wait for the sun to go down before he could even think about leaving.  And
it was high summer, days were long and nights were short.  Buffy spent a
few moments of distraction wondering how Angel would get to LA.  Did he
have a car?  Would he take a bus?  Hitch?  Turn into a bat and fly?
        "Whoa, Nellie," Buffy muttered to herself, catching her brain from
the ever-more ridiculous loop it was whirling in.  "Think."  She had to
figure out who--or what--had her dad.  Then she had to figure out how to
get him away.  Then she had to figure out how to explain to him why he was
kidnapped.
        She focused on the last thought exclusively, refusing to consider
that she might fail with the first two knotty problems.  She resisted the
urge to pick up the phone and try London again.  Giles hadn't been there
the five other times she called.  Besides, what was she going to do?
Demand that he come winging back ten thousand miles to hold her hand?
        That's what she wanted to do.  She'd never felt so alone in her
life.  The thought of her father in danger made her want to regress to
about the mental age of two.  When Darla had attacked her mother, she had
exploded into rage.  But this time, she didn't have an enemy to fight.
        Yet.
        The sun was nearly down before something set off Buffy's senses.
Golden light had deepened to burnt orange, and her immediate feeling of
panic had been replaced by a wearying dread.  She almost didn't notice the
whisper on the edge of her mind that someone... something was around.  Her
head came up suddenly, alert, the hunter and the hunted at once.
        Being Buffy, she found a stake, stepped out into the postage-stamp
sized backyard and demanded, "Who's there?"
        "Someone who needs your help," a quiet voice said.
        Buffy immediately whirled to face the direction the words had come
from, body poised to attack, even as her mind proceeded the fact that it
was a male voice and carried a accent that she didn't have the
concentration to place right now.
        "Please."  A shadowy figure stepped into the dim remaining light of
day.  The man spread his hands in a gesture that indicated peace, showing
that they were empty.  "I need to speak with you."
        "Who are you?" Buffy demanded, not relaxing her stance a smidgen.
        "My name is Peter Waring.  And I know what you are."
        "What I am?" Buffy asked without much hope.
        "The Slayer."
        Australian.  That's what his accent was.  The totally unconnected
thought popped into Buffy's brain.  "You know, I thought the point of
having a secret identity was that it was secret.  You know,  classified.
Unknown."
        He took another two steps closer to her, seemingly unafraid of her
despite his claim that he knew what she was -- and what she was capable of.
"I have," he said with distinct satisfaction, "been looking for you for
eight years."
        Buffy blinked.  "Huh?"
        "I need your help," he said again.  "I've been searching for the
Slayer.  My home is in danger.  I need you to save it."
        Buffy dropped her hands from her fighting stance, although she
still held the stake.  "Excuse me?"
        Eagerly, the man moved even closer to her.  The wan light revealed
a man in his mid to late fifties, with thick grey hair and dark eyes.  "I
live in a small town on the coast of New South Wales.  About fifteen years
ago, vampires descended on the town and began systematically destroying it.
The people were their food supply, their slaves, their minions.  When I
realized what the monsters were, I studied what I could do to stop them.
And discovered the existence of the Slayer."
        She really, really needed Giles right now, Buffy decided.  "Wait a
minute.  So you spent eight years trying to track down the Slayer?  How?"
        "News reports, mostly.  Unexplained phenomenon, rashes of killings
that ended with a young girl's appearance.  I cannot tell you how many
times I nearly found the Slayer in the past few years, only to have her be
killed.  But you... I knew that you would survive.  I knew I would be able
to find you."
        Buffy's dread was growing, a knot in the pit of her stomach.  "And
why should I help you?" she asked flatly.
        "Aside from the fact that it is your fate and your duty... the fact
that I have your father."  His voice was preternaturally calm, absolute --
and implacable.  And moonlight revealed a gleam of madness in his eyes.
        Rage almost blinded her for a few moments.  With extreme effort,
she pushed it down, pushed it away, reaching for the coldness that
enveloped her whenever she fought.  "Did it occur to you to ask if I would
help you?"
        "I couldn't take the chance.  I had to be sure," he said fiercely.
"Do you understand?  My home, my family, my friends have died, are dying.
You must come with me."
        "Oh, must I?  Well, gee, I don't feel terribly much like helping
someone who attacks *my* family, you know?  So how about you let him go,
leave town, and I'll pretend that we never had this conversation, okay?"
        Waring simply looked at her.  "You'd ignore your duty?" he asked,
aghast.
        "It's not my duty to go running around the world slaying vampires.
And it sure as hell is not my *duty* to be blackmailed into helping save
whole towns."  Buffy was almost shaking with fury -- and with fear.  She
could deal with vampires whose agenda was pretty much suck 'em and drop
'em.  But a madman who held her father's life in his hands...
        Waring's face smoothed from its perplexed look.  "You're angry.  I
understand," he said soothingly.  "But you will understand, if you think on
it, why I felt I had to do as I did.  I will speak with you tomorrow.  Good
night."
        Buffy moved fast, but he slipped through her fingers like a ghost,
disappearing into the shadowy dusk, as elusive as the monsters he wanted
her to kill.
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Buffy (2/3)
Date: 01 Sep 1997 12:45:40 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Buffy
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        There was a definite fray in the threads of the carpet by the time
the clock chimed midnight.  Buffy couldn't sit still, couldn't stop herself
from pacing back and forth.  Nerves nibbled on her stomach, and her head
ached from worry and thought.
        "Have to think clearly," she said aloud, needing the comfort of her
own voice, the semblance of company.  Instead, it just made her feel more
alone.  There was no one in the world but her.  No one to turn to.
"Damnit, when he comes back tomorrow, I have to somehow make him tell me
where Dad is, I...."
        For the second time that night her attention was drawn by the sense
of someone's approach.  She retrieved the stake that had never been far
from her hand.  If it was Waring, then she didn't need it to hurt him.  But
she couldn't forget that it had been in LA that she had encountered
vampires for the first time.  It would be Waring's luck for the Slayer to
get herself killed from carelessness just after he found her.  And wouldn't
*that* just make his kooky self thrilled?
        She made herself wait, made herself be silent and listen.
Footsteps in the night, soft, furtive... hesitant?  They stopped right
outside of the front door.
        In one quick move, Buffy yanked the door open and brought the stake
down in a threatening dive that could easily change into a fatal one.
        Angel raised his hands and took one step back.  "Hey, you asked me
to come down."
        "Oh."  Blowing a wisp of hair away from her eyes, Buffy lowered her
arm.  "Sorry.  I'm... on edge.  A bit."  She turned around, stepping back
through the door, dropping the stake on a small table.  "I've had a freaky
night.  I -- are you coming in or what?" she finally asked impatiently.
        Angel remained on the threshold.  He propped one hand on the
doorjamb, tilting his head to look at her, a stare that Buffy mentally
compared to a CAT scan.  "You have to invite me in, remember?" he said
finally.
        "Oh.  Right.  Uh, what do I say?"
        "'Come in' would work."
        "Come in.  Please."  She shut the door behind him, throwing the
deadbolt automatically.  ~Okay, now what?  I can't exactly offer him a
drink.  Well, I could, but that would really be a sucky idea...~
        "What's the matter?"  Angel had been prowling the apartment, but
turned at her slight groan.
        "Sorry.  Really bad mental pun.  I -- um.  Oh, hell."  She sank
down on the couch and put her head in her hands.
        She sensed him moving, coming nearer.  "Buffy."  Angel's tone on
her name made her look up, made her not even care anymore that tears were
streaking down her face.  "You asked me here to help you.  I want to help.
Tell me what's going on."
        "Right."  She scrubbed her face briefly.  "It's... my dad."  Her
voice hitched slightly before she caught it.  "After I called you tonight,
I had a visitor.  This guy... Peter Waring.  He's from Australia.  He said
that vampires were destroying his town.  He wants me to go down there and
rescue the town.  And he kidnapped my dad to make sure I would."
        After a moment, Angel said slowly, "Somehow, I thought it would be
vampires who had done this."
        "So did I.  It's easier that way.  That someone -- an ordinary
someone, a non-demon someone -- could do this... I don't know.  It freaks
me out."  She took a deep breath.  "I don't think this guy's completely
there.  He's definitely whacked.  And he's got my dad."  The thought had
her squeezing her eyes shut again.
        "What do you want me to do?"  The words were simple, honest, and to
the point.
        For the first time, Buffy smiled.  Watery and trembling, but a
honest smile.  "What you're good at.  Get me info.  This Waring guy is
going to be back here tomorrow night.  I'll stall him somehow.  How are you
at skulking?"
        His half-hitch of a smile matched hers.  "It's one of my greatest
talents."
        "Good."  She nodded and said it again.  "Good.  Okay."  She got to
her feet, began pacing again, thinking out loud.  "We need to find you a
place to sleep.  My dad's room has heavy drapes.  If we put up something
else to block the windows, you should be all right--"
        Angel put out his hand, caught her arm on one of her frantic
passes.  "Buffy..."
        Her face fell.  "Oh, God.  He's got my dad.  That madman has my
dad," she whispered.  The pain was shattering.  Bad enough that her mother
had nearly died at Darla's hands, that she had nearly become nothing more
than a plaything in a power struggle she should never have been touched by.
Now her dad... her dad...
        Before she broke, though, she found comfort.  Angel's arms were
around her tightly, and she held on for dear life.  ~Not alone.  I'm not
alone.  So good to not be alone in this...~
********
        Dawn had broken before Buffy got to bed.  She and Angel had worked
together to make her father's bedroom sun-proof, then Angel had gone out on
an unnamed errand that Buffy decided she really didn't want to know about.
He came back just before the sun came up and went straight to bed.
        It was late afternoon, and Buffy was puttering around the
apartment.  Rosie was singing "Tomorrow" on the TV behind her, turned on
more for its noise than anything else.  Buffy considered changing the
channel.  After all, Rosie was a little too... normal for her.  Oprah
or--heaven help her--Ricki Lake were more her style.  "Teenage Girls who
Slay the Undead and the Vampires Who Love Them," she muttered.  "My
Boyfriend is a Vampire -- no, wait, I've actually seen that one."
        She poked at the sandwich she had made, not hungry but knowing she
needed to eat.  Her mom was beginning to bring home pamphlets on depression
and eating disorders, and if Buffy lost any more weight she was going to
get dragged to a shrink or something.
        The sound of a door opening made her look up.  From the small
kitchen she could look across the living room to see Angel standing in the
doorway of the bedroom.  "Morning," she said.  "There aren't any curtains
on the windows out here, but the sun'll be down in a couple hours."
        "That's fine."  Propping one hand high on the doorjam, he leaned
casually and looked at her.  "So, what's the plan?"
        "Buffy shrugged and continued turning the rye bread of her sandwich
into bird food.  "Waring will come here, I'll act like I haven't made up my
mind about going to Australia yet, he'll leave, you follow him and find out
where he stashed my dad."
        "Simple enough.  What if he has your dad in a place other than
where he's staying?"
        "Then grab him and scare it out of him," Buffy snapped.  Her eyes
were furious, behind the glitter of tears.  "Come on, you're the big bad
vampire.  You must have some fright tactics.  Might as well use what we've
got."
        Suddenly, Angel grinned, the grin that Buffy had loathed and
despised, Cryptic Guy to the max.  Except that he wasn't Cryptic Guy any
more, she knew him, and the grin didn't hide anything from her.  "Pretty
ironic.  The Slayer using a vampire as one of her weapons."
        "Yeah, well, we Slayers take what we can get."  Dropping the
flippant act, she abandoned her sandwich and came out from behind the
kitchen counter.  "I really didn't want to be alone," she confessed.
"After Merrick died... that was the worst.  There really wasn't anyone
there for me, just the Slaying and the lying, and losing all my friends and
getting kicked out of school.  I needed someone right now.  Anyone."
        The grin winked off as though a switch had been thrown.  "Glad I
could help."
        Ooops.  Male ego alert.  Damn, she hadn't meant it that way.
Another thing she'd lost the knack of, finessing guys.    "Look, you're the
one who keeps saying that you don't want to be around me."
        "I never said that!"
        "Yes, you did!  And what happened that night at the Bronze, huh?
And what about all the phone messages I left for you?  Obviously, you were
there, and you were ignoring me."
        "I wasn't ignoring you, I --"
        "Yeah?"  Buffy crossed the living room and put her hands on her
hips.  "You just, oh, accidentally erased all my messages then, right?"
        "I thought we agreed --"
        "We did.  And it didn't work, remember?"
        "But--"
        "And another thing.  What the heck were you and Giles doing,
sneaking behind my back, trying to keep things from me?  I'm the Slayer,
I've got the right to know what's going to happen to me."
        "Buffy --"
        "I should--"
        "Can I finish a sentence?" Angel finally demanded.
        Buffy blinked.  "Oh.  Sorry.  Go ahead."
        "First of all, I want to be with you, but there *are* some facts we
have to face," he bit out.   "Second of all, I wasn't ignoring you, I just
wasn't answering your messages.  I didn't know what to say, and you sounded
like you were having a good time with your dad.  And I only knew about the
prophesy for about five minutes before you barged in, so I hardly had any
time to tell you.  Blame Giles for that one, if you want, but he was only
trying to help you.  Anything else?"  He was looming over her, glaring.
        Buffy blew out a breath that fluffed her bangs.  "Why are we fighting?"
        "Hell if I know."
        "I wanted you here," Buffy confessed suddenly.  "You.  I don't... I
don't think I could have cried in front of Giles the way I did with you
last night."
        Did vampires blush?  If not, Angel was doing a damn good imitation.
"Oh.  I'm... glad."
        "Good."  Okay, now what?  "I, um... I was thinking I should call
the police.  You know, just so that when we get my dad back, it won't look
so weird.  He'll wanna know why I didn't if I didn't."
        Angel nodded.  "Wait until after sundown, so I can clear out.  And
wait until Waring's already come and gone.  If he shows up when you've got
the police here, he..."
        "His phone call to sanity might get disconnected," Buffy supplied.
She sighed.  "Okay.  If only the sun would set..."
        "Believe me, wishing it down won't make it go any faster."  Angel's
voice was heavy with memories.
        "And you'd know, huh?" Buffy asked softly.  But Angel had already
turned back to go into the bedroom.
********
        Wishing or no, the sun did eventually set.
        Buffy had assumed that Waring would show up at dusk, the way he had
the night before, when the sun was gone but its light still lingered.  But
sunset dwindled into twilight, then full dark, and no insane Aussies were
to be seen.
        Buffy's dad was definitely going to need a new carpet for his apartment.
        "Where is he?" demanded the edgy Slayer.  "I'd've thought that he'd
want us halfway to the outback by now.  Is he trying to make me as crazy as
he is?  I --"  Her head snapped around.
        "What?" Angel asked.
        "Something," she said, drawing out the word, deep in thought -- and
concentration.  "I think it's him."
        Motioning for Angel to keep himself hidden, Buffy slipped out onto
the tiny balcony, levering herself over the railing to drop into the
backyard where they had met the night before.  "Hey.  You here?  Waring?
Come out, come out, wherever you are."
        "Betrayer."  The word was low, hissed, indistinct.  Faint sounds of
traffic blended with it, making it nearly impossible to figure out where it
was coming from.
        A layer of ice formed in Buffy's stomach.  "Waring?" she asked
again.  Abandoning her earlier plan of trying to delay, put him off, she
desperately tried to make him show himself.  "I thought about what you
said, and you're right.  I'm the Slayer.  I'm supposed to slay vampires.
And --"
        Instinct had her moving before her conscious mind realized she
needed to get out of the way.  The slight spatting kicked up dust.  Great,
all she needed.  The crazy, kidnapping, Slayer-knowledgeable Australian
stalker had a gun.
        "What are you doing?  You can't kill me.  You need my help."  She
needed to get him talking, track him.  A part of her knew that Angel was
somewhere in the shadows, waiting to help her.  She needed to get Waring to
leave, to lead Angel back to her father.
        "You betrayed me.  You betrayed what you are.  You are not worthy
to be the Slayer."
        "I don't know what you mean."  Buffy fought to keep her voice calm.
"I said I'd help you."
        Another bullet, this one splintering the branch of a tree where her
head had been a moment before.  "You consort with demons."
        The ice in her stomach became a deep freeze.  "I don't know what
you mean."
        Her own voice answered her, tinny and recorded.  "Come on, you're
the big bad vampire.  You must have some fright tactics.  Might as well use
what we've got."
        Then Angel's.  "Pretty ironic.  The Slayer using a vampire as one
of her weapons."
        "You bugged the apartment."
        "I needed to be sure you didn't call the police.  You didn't.  You
called up a demon, instead."
        Buffy felt her brain blank.  She couldn't come up with a plan.
"I'm still the Slayer," she said desperately, trying to sway him.  "I still
kill vampires.  You still need me."
        "You aren't worthy to be the Slayer," Waring said again.  He
stepped out from the shadows of the trees into a puddle of moonlight that
gleamed silver on his hair and the gun in his hand.  Pointed at Buffy.
"'One Slayer dies, and the next one is called.'  I must find that next
one."
        ~Oh, great,~ was Buffy's completely inadequate thought.  She had no
cover, nowhere to hide.  She could run for the condo, and Waring would
disappear into the night, and she'd never see her father again -- at least
not until Waring made good his attempt to call up the next Slayer.
        If he didn't shoot her in the back before she made it to cover.
        Between one heartbeat and the next, it was over.  The gun clattered
to the ground, thankfully not going off on impact.  Angel had slammed
Waring back against a tree, eyes glowing and demon face pressed up against
the mortal's.  Waring was gibbering incoherently, his hands flapping,
helpless against Angel's greater strength.
        "Angel."  Buffy's voice was quiet.  No command, no demand, just his
name.  He snarled for another moment, then slowly, reluctantly, stepped
back, keeping his hold on Waring.
        Waring's dark eyes kept flicking back and forth between Slayer and
vampire.  His short-circuited brain was obviously trying to figure out what
just occurred there.  He'd been caught by a vampire -- a vampire who looked
like he would relish a banquet from down under.  He should be dead.  But he
wasn't.
        "You... he... huh... what?"  The syllables came out on separate
puffs of air.
        Buffy stepped closer to him.  "Angel's a special case.  He won't
hurt you."
        "But I'd want to," Angel muttered.
        "Hush."
        "I don't understand," Waring said, his voice the bewildered wail of
a child.  "I don't understand."
        Something in his tone, in his eyes, warned Buffy that Waring had
slipped from loco to just plain crazy.  He wasn't a danger anymore to
anyone but himself.  "Can you take us to my dad?" she asked quietly.  He
didn't respond.  There really wasn't anything there to respond.
        After a moment of searching through Waring's pockets, Angel came up
with a key to a motel.  "Let's just hope Waring stashed him there," Buffy
said.
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Buffy (3/3)
Date: 01 Sep 1997 12:46:51 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Buffy
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        It was an icky, smelly, grungy, low-rent version of Motel 6.  Buffy
pulled her dad's Explorer into a empty space and shut off the engine.
"Well," she sighed, "here goes nothing."
        Room 15 didn't respond to knocking.  A warped cardboard "Do Not
Disturb" sign prevented entry.  "You are exceedingly disturbed," Buffy
muttered to the man whom the police had picked up for vagrancy after...
someone called in a complaint.  Angel handed her the key, and she turned it
in the lock, convinced that she was going to find an empty room.
        "Daddy!"  She ran to her father's side and dropped to her knees.
Hank Summers was drugged and tied to a chair in the scuzzy room.
        The piercing shriek of his offspring was enough to wake him from a
stupor, and he blinked groggily at her.  "Buffy?" he said, his voice
slurred.
        Buffy worked at the ropes that bound him to the cheap chair.  "Hang
on, we'll have you out of here in a minute."
        "We?" Hank tried again, turning to look at the doorway.  Angel was
a dark shape blocking most of the light from the streetlamps.
        "He's a friend.  He's helping me.  Can you stand up?"
        Dazed, Hank didn't protest when Angel took his other arm and he and
Buffy helped Hank out to the car.  Depositing him in the back seat, Buffy
drove home.  They got him up the stairs to the condo without incident, and
Buffy disappeared into the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine.
        "Now we've *really* got some 'splaining to do," Buffy muttered
under her breath when she came out with a cup of black coffee.  Beginning
to wake up, Hank took it gratefully.
        One sip later, he blinked his watering eyes and tried manfully to
smile at his daughter.  "Honey... this is, um, a bit hot.  Could you add
some cold water?"
        "Sure."  Anxious, Buffy hovered over him.  "How much?"
        "Ah... about half the cup," he said weakly.
        Three cups of much-watered coffee later, Hank was ready for
answers.  Buffy had gotten better at fabrication over the past year.  Hank
bought her story of a weirdo who knocked on the door and handed her the
key.  He bought that she hadn't called the police since they couldn't do
anything until he was missing for forty-eight hours.  And he bought that
she had called an old friend (*very* old, Buffy said silently) to keep her
company, so she wouldn't be alone.
        All in all, Hank swallowed everything she told him.
        It was a couple of hours before dawn when Angel got to his feet.
"Don't go.  You must be exhausted.  We can make a bed up on the couch,
right, Buffy?"
        Buffy took a good look at the couch, right in the path of the huge
windows in her dad's living room.  "Um..."
        "I'm fine.  I don't have that far to go."
        Hank offered him his hand.  "Thanks for your help.  And for
watching out for Buffy.  I really appreciate it."
        Buffy stood on her tip-toes to kiss her dad's cheek.  "Go to
sleep," she said sternly.
        He brushed his hand over her hair.  "I will.  I love you."
        "Love you too.  Night."
        Buffy walked Angel to the door, and just outside of it.  "Do you
have a place to go?" she asked quietly.
        Angel nodded.  "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
        "Okay."  They looked at each other for a long moment.  Then Buffy
leaned up to kiss his cheek as she had with her dad.  "Thank you.  Really.
You don't know..."  Her voice trailed off in a shudder as she thought of
what might have happened.
        "I'm glad I could help."
        "I, uh..."
        Angel smiled at her, slightly, neither the strange half-reluctant
smile nor Cryptic Guy grin.  He touched her cheek lightly, opened his mouth
as though to say something.
        Then turned and walked away.
********
        Buffy spent the next day fussing over her father, who finally
shooed her off.  "I'm fine, I'm fine!"  He grinned at her.  "I never
thought of you as a worrier."
        "Well... you disappeared.  I *was* worried."
        Hank lifted one hand to smooth the line that was getting to be
permanently etched between her brows.  "You heard what the police said.
That vagrant they picked up... for whatever insane reason--"
        "And we do mean insane."
        "--he decided to take out his anger on me.  I suppose having a
serial killer in your hometown might make even a normal person crazy."
        "Yeah," Buffy echoed faintly.  The story that Waring had told her
was true, she could tell that much from the watered-down version that the
police got from Australia.  Fifteen years ago, vampires had descended on a
small town.  The part that Waring *didn't* seem to get was that they left
almost immediately, after doing some  significant damage.
        He'd been unable to admit that he couldn't help the ones who had
died, so he believed that he could help those who were still alive -- never
mind that they weren't in danger any longer.
        Buffy was curled on her dad's couch, ignoring the TV that was
laughing at its own cleverness with canned giggles.  Lost in thought, she
was startled by someone knocking on the door.  Hank was in his room, making
an early night of it, so Buffy answered the door.
        Angel stood outside it.  For the first time Buffy could remember,
he wasn't wearing black and white.  A dark slate-blue silk shirt covered
his chest, and charcoal grey pants covered the rest of him.  Buffy just
goggled for a few moments.
        Gravely, he offered her a white rose.  "I know this is kind of last
minute but... would you like to go out with me?
        Buffy finally regained the power of speech.  "Out?  Like on a date?
Dinner, movie, dancing, that kind of thing?"
        His mouth quirked in its accustomed half smile.  "We'd have to skip
the dinner, but yeah."
        "Why?" she asked.  The flower was cool in her fingers, the scent
sweet.  And the thorns sharp.
        Angel didn't speak for a moment.  "I want to be with you.  I keep
telling myself it can't happen, it won't work.  And then I see you and...
it stops mattering.  I don't know what will happen when we go back to
Sunnydale.  Sometimes I think that, now that the Master's dead, I should
leave--"
        Buffy's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, as if she needed to
chain him to the spot.  "No!"
        He turned his hand to take hers, holding it tightly.  "I couldn't
go.  I know that."
        Buffy took a deep breath, even though her head was spinning
giddily.  "But you still think that we can't be together," she said
steadily.
        "No.  I don't know," he said, frustrated.  "All I know is here,
tonight... it's different.  We're different.  And I want one night."  He
raised an eyebrow at her, and grinned again.  "So...?"
        "So?  So!  Oh!"  She glanced down at herself in shorts and a baggy
t-shirt.  "Ugh.  Um, give me ten minutes.  Okay, fifteen.  Stay there.
*Don't* come in.  Got it?"
        "I got it," Angel said to the door slammed in his face.
        Seventeen minutes later, Buffy reopened it, wearing the silver
satin sheath she had just found at Nordstrom.  "So... where are we going?"
        Angel smiled at her, gallantly taking her arm.  "There's a place I
want to take you.  It hasn't changed much since the last time I was in LA;
I checked before I came over here."
        "Last time?" Buffy asked curiously.  She was distracted when they
hit street level when she saw the limo.  "Wow.  Like the prom.  But
better."
        A few minutes later, the limousine pulled up in front of a
beautiful old hotel.  (Old in Los Angeles being relative, of course.)
Chateau Marmont had a beautiful plush lobby and small corners where people
could just sit and talk.  "This is gorgeous!" Buffy said exuberantly,
tilting her head back to look at the crystal chandeliers over her head.
"You used to hang out here?"
        "Now and then."  Finding an unoccupied bench, Angel sat down,
pulling her down beside him.  "I didn't spend all my time in Sunnydale, you
know.  I needed to move around some.  There was this time...."
        For nearly an hour they just talked.  No disasters, no painful
discussions of their respective positions in life, just a girl and a guy
chatting.  ~This is way too normal for me,~ Buffy thought a couple of
times.
        Eventually, Buffy heard music coming from a room off the lobby.
Guessing that the hotel had set up a small nightclub area for their
patrons, she stood up and held out both hands to Angel.  "Come dance with
me," she invited.
        It was a somewhat older crowd in the room than Buffy usually saw at
the Bronze, twenty- and thirty-somethings.  The music reflected that, being
a mix of current adult contemporary and Eighties hits.  Luckily, whoever
was spinning the disks had enough taste to pick the best.
        Buffy expected it to be awkward dancing with Angel.  Touching him,
being that close to him.  And then there was the whole height factor.  But
she stepped into his arms as though she belonged there, and closed her mind
to the rest of it.
        Three songs went by before they even thought about talking.
"Angel..." Buffy said hesitantly.
        "What?"
        "This... this isn't going to go away, is it?  What we feel for each
other.  It just... isn't."
        Angel sighed and rested his cheek on her hair.  "No, it isn't.  And
I don't know what we are going to do about it."
        Buffy looked up, and put her hand on his mouth.  "Never mind.
Tonight, we're just not going to worry about it."
        The next song cued up, saving Angel from having to reply.  He just
pulled her closer as a string section set up a dramatic beat.

        "Don't ask me
        What you know is true.
        Don't have to tell you
        I love your precious heart.

        I -- I was standing,
        You were there,
        Two worlds collided,
        And they could never tear us apart."

        Buffy sighed and tightened her arms around his neck.  She didn't
want to talk, to shatter this moment.  She didn't want the moment to end,
to have to face reality again.  In the shelter of the music and his arms,
she could forget the rest of the world -- for awhile at least.

        "We could live
        For a thousand years,
        But if I hurt you
        I'd make wine from your tears.

        I told you
        That we could fly
        'Cause we all have wings
        But some of us don't know why.

        I -- I was standing,
        You were there,
        Two worlds collided
        And they could never, ever tear us apart."

        He brought her home a few minutes before midnight.  "I'm going back
to Sunnydale.  I'll have to leave soon to get there before morning."
        Buffy nodded.  "I understand.  And when I get back there... what?
We're going to ignore each other?  Be buds?  Date?"
        "Buffy, I don't know."  The edge of frustration in Angel's tone
made Buffy smile a little.  He cared.  The fact that it should be
blindingly obvious from all the things he'd done for her aside, it touched
her that he had to struggle against what he thought was wrong so hard.
        She'd lost a lot when Destiny had pulled the arm on her slot
machine and come up with Buffy Summers.  She wasn't about to let anything
else go.
        Stepping closer to him, she stood up on her toes.  Almost
automatically, his arms closed around her, supporting her in her precarious
position.  They'd kissed before, once as a tentative question, and once as
a goodbye.  This time, she put everything she couldn't find the words to
say into it.
        When they slowly parted, Buffy was relieved that he looked as dazed
as she felt.  Every argument they had put forth to separate them, both
together and separately, couldn't deny this.  No matter how hard it was, no
matter how much it hurt... they just couldn't keep away from each other.
        They would, however -- at least for the rest of the summer.
        Buffy unlocked the door and stepped through.  "Night," she said.
        And shut it behind her.
********
        Ring.
        Ring.
        Ring.
        "Buffy?"
        "Angel.  So you *do* know how to pick up the phone."
        "Yeah, once in a while.  How are you?"
        "Fine.  Listen, have you seen George of the Jungle yet?  Trust me,
go see it, it's hysterical..."

THE END

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Willow (1/3)
Date: 02 Sep 1997 07:28:34 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Willow
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        "...and so the user said, 'I broke the coffee cup holder.' I'm all,
'What coffee cup holder?' 'You know, you press a button on the tower and
the coffee cup holder slides out.  I broke it, I need a new one.' The idiot
had been putting her mug in the CD-ROM caddy!"
        Willow joined in with the laughter.  "Oh, I've got a good one." She
drained her can of Coke and grinned.  "There's this real snob at my
school."  Willow stopped and thought for a second.   "Well, she's not
really that bad of a snob anymore.  Anyway, she was languishing in computer
class and wanted to know how to save her program.  I told her to hit
'deliver.'"
        There were puzzled looks for all of three seconds until one of the
guys hooted, "Delete!" and everyone lost it.  Willow settled deeper into
the comfortably beat-up couch in the rec room and relaxed, really relaxed,
for the first time in months.  Outside, the rain rattled the windows and
pattered on the roof.  Inside, the fire in the fireplace made everything
warm and cozy.  In the week she'd been here, she'd felt more accepted, more
a part of the action then in her whole life in Sunnydale.  She never would
have imagined speaking up in front of a crowd of people at home.  But the
people here didn't make fun of her clothes or her hair or her interests.
        She had found the nerds, and they were her.
        She pushed away the twinge of guilt that hit when she thought of
Buffy and Xander.  Yeah, they accepted her.  But Xander had known her her
whole life, and Buffy...  Buffy wouldn't have told her the truth about
vampires if Willow hadn't already seen the evidence for herself.  Probably
she and Buffy would have never really become friends otherwise.  Willow
would have helped Buffy with her homework and sometimes wondered at the
weird things that Buffy would say.  But she would have never really known
her.
        Cutting into Willow's musing, the big grandfather clock in the room
started booming.  "Oops.  Shift change.  Okay, who's got the lab for the
next two hours?" Rick asked.  The lab was open twenty-four hours a day, and
the kids who were attending the computer camp signed up for two hour blocks
of time on the mega computers that the company sponsoring the camp
provided.
        Willow got up and stretched.  "I've got the 6 AM to 8 AM block,"
she said, yawning, "so I'm going to sleep now."
        The vastly night-owl-skewed population of computer geeks shuddered.
"6 AM?" Lily asked.  "Nobody's awake then!  The sun isn't even up yet!"
        "But it rises pretty soon," Willow pointed out.  "I like the sun.
Watching it rise, I mean.  'Night."
        Willow set her clock for 5:30 AM so she'd have time for a shower,
and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows.  But at 4:30 she found
herself wide-awake and bright-eyed.
        "Okay, I'll just get an early start.  The labs pro-AW-" she yawned,
"-bably deserted now, so I can get some extra time on the computer."
        She stumbled in and out of the shower on automatic pilot, but
perked up the closer she got to the lab room.  It was still dark, and so
intent was she on the thought of putting in some time on the lovely, lovely
computers in there that she almost ran into a girl standing in front of a
cabinet.  "Whoa.  Sorry."
        The girl didn't seem to notice that she had nearly been collided
with.  "Where is it?" she muttered.  "Confound it, I know it's around here
somewhere.  Where is it?"
        Willow tilted her head a little to the side and looked at the other
girl.  She was a few years older than Willow, maybe a college student come
to intern at the house.  She was dressed in a long, floral,
old-fashioned-looking dress, and her dark hair was in a long braid down her
back.  Willow hadn't seen her around before, but everyone had been putting
in a lot of time in the labs, so it was possible that she'd been here for
the past week and Willow just hadn't seen her.
        "What are you looking for?" she asked finally.  The other girl
turned and jumped as though she had been stuck with a pin.
        "Oh!"  Wide dark eyes met Willow's.   "It's...  my journal," she
said finally.   "I can't find the dratted thing.   I know I put it in here
somewhere...."  The words trailed off as the girl seemed to forget Willow's
existence, turning back to the open cabinet.
        Except that Willow was quite sure that cabinet was always kept
locked.   Well, maybe if the other girl worked here, she had a key.   "Can
I help?" Willow offered.
        "Um...  could you check the pie safe?   Why a pie safe is in the
parlor I don't know...."
        "Pie safe?   What's a pie safe?"
        "Over there, under the window."  The girl, still distracted,
pointed impatiently.  "The cook locks his pies in it to keep them from
being devoured before dinner.   He will be put out to find someone has
moved it in here."
        Willow located the small, squat chest and opened it.
Entertainment Weekly, People, Time and, of course, every shade and
variation of computer magazine, but nothing that looked like a journal.
        Willow got to her feet and turned back to look at the other girl.
"I don't see...."  Her voice died.
        The sun was coming up, shining through the window behind the other
girl.   And *through* the other girl.
        A moment later, the ghost vanished.
********
        She could handle this.  She could.  Willow repeated her
not-terribly-convincing mantra to herself as she made her way to the
computer lab.  It wasn't a vampire or a witch or a demon in a full metal
jacket, or a three-headed *thing*.  It was just a ghost.
        Just.  Just a ghost.  What had her life become that she actually
framed a thought with the words "just a ghost" in them?
        She could handle it, though.  No sweat.  She reached the lab and
booted up the computer, logging in.
        First things first.  Go for the easy answers.  She jumped on Yahoo
and did a search on ghosts, poltergeists, wandering spirits, and the like.
She'd done enough 'Net research for Giles to know at a glance which of the
sites were just lurid imaginings and which contained useful information.
        And which needed to be dug into a little more deeply...
        By the time people started entering the computer room, the sun was
fully up and shining with all its might and Willow had been online for
three hours.  She collected her printouts and unobtrusively slid them into
her backpack, then started the project that was supposed to be her focus
for the six week session, pretending that she had been working on it since
daybreak.  "Hey, Will," Rick leaned over the back of her chair.  "What was
that?"
        "Nothing," Willow said casually.  "Just some script that I think I
need to go over later.  I don't want to waste my time on the computer doing
it now."  ~Hate lying, hate lying, hate it, hate it...~
        "Okay.  Um, some of us were going into town to grab some dinner
tonight.  Maybe go to a movie.  Did you want to come with me?"
        "Hmm?" Willow said absently.  "Oh, I thought I'd get something out
of the kitchen here.  I, um, am falling behind on my project."
        "Oh," Rick said.  "Another time?"
        "Sure.  Another time what?"  Willow's fingers were flying over the
keyboard, and she didn't notice Rick's ignomous retreat.
        By the time she was kicked off the computer, she had managed to get
a good amount of work done on her project.  She retreated to her room with
her printouts and started highlighting things that seemed appropriate.
Within a few hours, she had assembled enough information to begin to figure
out what was going on.
        Ghosts fell into a few categories.  There was your loud and
annoying chain-rattling type.  There was the quiet and unobtrusive specter
type.  And then there was the destructive, whirlwind poltergeist type.
        This ghost didn't seem to be destructive.  And no one else
mentioned hearing chains rattling or doors opening or phantom shrieks in
the night.  But the ghost did seem to be more than your average wandering
spirit.  She had a definite purpose and desire.
        Ghosts became ghosts, so the theory went, because they had left
some earthly thing undone.  This particular ghost had been looking for a
journal.  Willow put down her papers and got up to head down to lunch,
thinking hard.  If the journal was found, would the ghost be free?
        It wasn't until Willow almost turned away from a crowded table to
sit by herself to think that she realized what she was doing.  Why did she
automatically think that *she* had to fix things?  Just because there was a
ghost and the ghost *may* want her freedom, didn't mean that Willow was
obligated to drop everything to help her, right?  That was her life in
Sunnydale.  And that life had nearly gotten her killed.
        Flipping her long hair over one shoulder, Willow stopped by a empty
seat.  "Um, is this one taken?"  The chorus of welcomes almost drowned out
the mournful wail in her head.
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Willow (2/3)
Date: 02 Sep 1997 07:30:28 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Willow
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        2:32 AM
        Willow sighed, turned over, and punched her pillow.  "Sleeping
would be good about now," she said out loud.
        Nobody answered her.
        2:33 AM
        It wasn't her job.  Right?  She wasn't the Chosen One.  She just
happened to have developed an odd talent for being in the wrong place at
the right time.  Or right place at wrong time.  Or...
        2:34 AM
        Besides, even Buffy wasn't a Ghostbuster.  She was a Vampire
Slayer.  The fact that they had been up against some other really weird
stuff had nothing to do with Buffy's duties, and everything to do with the
fact they lived on a Hellmouth.  This really was Giles' area of expertise.
        2:35 AM
        "Great, now I have guilt."  Willow dumped her pillow on the floor
and flopped facedown into the mattress.
        2:36 AM
        "Okay, okay, I'll do it."  Sighing, Willow sat up and pushed her
long hair away from her face.  Maybe the ghost didn't want to be released
from her captivity.  Maybe she was happy to be haunting a house full of
computer geeks.  Maybe Willow couldn't do anything about it.
        But she couldn't sleep until she tried.
        There were still faint sounds coming from the computer lab,
nocturnal creatures discovering the joys of C++.  In her robe and slippers,
Willow tiptoed into the small parlor where she had seen the ghost before.
"Hello?  Anyone here?  Hello?  Um... are there any ghosts around?  Anything
undead at all?  Okay, I tried.  Can I sleep now?"
        Before she could turn to go back to bed, a crackle of static energy
lifted the fine hairs on her nape.  Slowly turning her head, Willow saw the
ghost standing in front of the window.  Wan moonlight spilled through her
incorporeal body.
        Willow swallowed.  Twice.  "Um... hi," she managed weakly.  How
*did* you address a ghost?
        Like their earlier meeting, only when Willow directly addressed the
not-quite invisible girl did she seem to recognize Willow's presence.  Wide
dark eyes fixed on the mortal girl's slight figure.  "Oh!  Did you find
it?" she asked eagerly.
        Willow shook her head.  "No.  Um... what is it that you are looking
for?  Exactly?"
        The ghost turned and knelt in front of the fireplace, poking
slightly up the chimney.  "My journal.  Papa threatened to burn it.  He
didn't, did he?" the ghost asked anxiously, glancing back over her
shoulder.
        Willow shook her head vigorously.  "No.  Um, I don't think so."
        Pulling away from the hearth -- without a trace of soot from either
modern or prehistoric fires -- the girl sat back on her heels.  "Where *is*
it, then?" she fretted.
        Willow took a step toward her.  "What's your name?"
        "Oh, how rude of me!  I'm Eleanor Gordon.  My friends call me Nell.
Or at least, they did...,"  Nell's voice trailed off uncertainly, "...long
ago."
        "I'm Willow."  ~Do you know you're dead?~ Willow thought, but
didn't ask.
        The girl smiled brightly.  "I'm quite pleased to meet you."  Her
eyes turned vague again.  "Where is the blasted thing?  It had all my work
in it."  She rose and turned toward the door.
        "Wait!  Tell me what looks like at least.  Maybe I can help you
find it?"
        "It's a *journal*," Nell said with the impatience of both youth and
ghosthood.  "Leather cover."
        "What's in it?  Is it your diary?"
        "No, no!  It's my work, do you understand?  The new university, the
one Stanford is founding, won't take women.  But I've got formulas and
equations that will *prove* to them that I'm not a foolish girl, that I'm
the equal of any of the men who will attend.  But if I can't find it, I
can't prove to them that I can do the work.  And if Papa burned it...."
        Nell's transparent face crumpled in grief, and Willow couldn't
resist putting out a comforting hand.  The electric shock she received when
she touched Nell's form jolted her back a step.
        When she looked up again, Nell was gone.
        "Willow?"  Meri, one of the other kids at camp poked her head into
the room.  "Who were you talking to?"
        "Uh... nothing.  No one."  Willow was still staring at the spot
that Nell had occupied a moment before.  She had disappeared right before
her eyes.  Just poof.  There, and gone.
        "Yes, you were," Meri insisted.  "I heard you!"
        "Just... myself.  Myself."
        Meri gave her a weird look, and unpoked her head from the room.
Willow stood still for several moments, her heart pounding.  The look on
Meri's face... as if Willow were some kind of weirdo.  ~Isn't that what I
am?  I talk to ghosts.  How much weirder can you get?~  "I thought I could
take anything," she muttered.  Then she turned and ran from the room.
********
        Willow avoided the parlor for the next few days.  She worked hard
on her project, and slept with her pillow over her ears to block out any
ghostly pleas.
        She didn't *want* this.  She'd finally found a place where she fit
in, really fit in, and she didn't want anyone looking at her the way Meri
had that night.  Looking at her as though she was strange, bizarre.  Abby
Normal.  She wanted to fit in.
        She didn't fit in at Sunnydale High.  She never would.  But here...
she had a chance to find out what normal was.  She didn't want to screw it
up.
        It was early evening, not even quite dark yet.  Willow was brooding
in the rec room.  Before she had met Buffy, she'd been plain Willow
Rosenberg.  Resident hacker, tutor-for-begging, doormat and lonely.  Since
Buffy had arrived in Sunnydale, Willow had nearly died more times than she
really wanted to remember.  But she'd also been truly, completely accepted
for the first time in her life.  Xander, always a bud, had become one of
her closest friends.  And Buffy, while not exactly a role model, taught her
fashion and make-up and self-esteem.
        Here, she was another computer geek, just another face in the
crowd, but a *part* of that crowd.  With Xander and Buffy and Giles, she
was a part of something else entirely, something that frightened her.  She
loved them, loved them all, but she didn't know if she could handle what
came with being around Buffy.
        "Will!" Rick beamed at her.  "There you are.  Wanna go into town
with us?"
        She looked up, meeting Rick's eyes, Lily's eyes, Juan's, Ben's.
Sudden, she felt a little dizzy.  They were all her age, and yet she felt
so much older than all of them.  They hadn't had to see the bodies of their
friends strewn all over.  They hadn't had to fight the forces of evil.  She
wasn't good with people anyway.  It had always been easier to just
withdraw, to avoid conflict, to not fight.
        "Will?  Please?  I don't want to be the only girl out with all
these he-men."  Lily's voice was teasing, but her eyes were honestly
pleading.
        Buffy had taught her to fight.  And she knew she could.  Maybe she
had seen and done things that most kids her age would never have to deal
with.  But it had made her stronger.  More than that.  It was a part of
her.  She was Willow Rosenberg, Slayerette, as much as she was Willow
Rosenberg, hacker extrodinaire.  Two sides of one person.
        She'd proved that she could handle the powers of darkness.  She
could definitely handle that arguably more scary task of social
interaction.
        "Sure."  Moving forward, she blended with the group.  "As long as
we hit a McDonald's.  I'm starved."
        "And a movie?  They're rereleasing Scream up here," Rick said,
slinging an arm around her shoulders.  Willow stole a look at him, and
sighed.  Yeah, he was cute.  But she was a little leery of guys after
"Malcolm."  And, despite everything, she still loved Xander, as clueless as
he was.
        Which didn't, however, mean that she couldn't appreciate a little
male attention...
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Willow (3/3)
Date: 02 Sep 1997 07:35:09 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Willow
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        Willow stood at the bottom of the attic stairs and took a deep
breath.  "I can do this.  I can.  I can."
        Questioning the house administrator had lead her to this spot, up
in the quietest part of the house.  Mrs. Marshall had assumed Willow was a
history buff, interested in the history of the house and its former owners.
She had told Willow that all the family possessions had been stored in the
attic following the house's sale.
        If the diary was anywhere, it was up there.
        Armed with a flashlight and a firm grasp on her courage, Willow
climbed the steps and tried not to remember certain key scenes from the
movie she had just watched -- watched being a loose term, considering how
much time she had spent with her hands clapped over her eyes.
        The attic was hot and dusty, still holding the heat of the summer
day.  It was also very dark.  Moonlight slanted through random cracks in
the boards, making crazy patterns on the floor.  Dust motes shimmered in
the close, still air.
        Willow started poking in corners, lifting lids of trunks, peering
into wardrobes.  The beam of the flashlight found treasures, alone in the
dark.  Hats missing half their feathers, faded and torn dresses from time
gone by, fans and trinkets and *things* that didn't seem to have any use,
and were exotic for their very uselessness.
        It was an oddly peaceful way to spend time.  Willow felt surrounded
by ghosts -- but they didn't bother her this time.  There were lives
represented by the accumulation of stuff that had been hidden away in the
attic.  People, plain old ordinary people.  Willow almost forgot her
mission until she turned to the last piece of furniture -- a big mahogany
desk.
        Squeezing around a dressmaker's dummy and a big framed mirror,
Willow knelt down in front of the desk.  It had more drawers than she would
have expected a desk to have, and the top one was locked.  She tried all
the other drawers, but they were empty of everything except for random
papers that looked boring.
        So she found a long hooked thing that prompted a vague memory of
"Little House on the Prairie," and started working to pry the locked drawer
open.  She hated to damage the beautiful wood, but she'd promised Nell that
she would try to find the journal.  And if it was up here, it was probably
in this desk that Willow was willing to bet belonged to....
        A stray rumbling sound had Willow poised to dive into the kneehole
of the desk.  She was California-born and bred, and earthquake reflexes
were bone-deep with her.  But the rumbling stopped and she started chipping
away at the drawer again, suddenly scared and eager to get out.  She held
the flashlight awkwardly with her chin and used both hands, trying to pop
the lock out of its groove.
        A crash made her scream and drop the flashlight, which rolled over
and over, its light careening around the confines of the attic.  She
crawled out from under the desk and looked around.  A glass figurine lay
shattered on the floor.  While Willow tried to convince herself that it had
fallen after the brief tremor, a music box sitting on a three-legged table
nearby flew through the air and smashed against a tall wardrobe.  The
pieces showered to the floor in a rain of disjointed music.
        At that point, Willow realized she was seeing altogether too well
for her light source being a dim moon and a fallen flashlight.   She
really, really didn't want to turn around, but it was a toss-up which was
worse:  not knowing what was behind you, or *knowing.*
        "Not knowing," she whispered, her throat suddenly very dry, and turned.
        He was an old man, fifties or sixties, with a thick head of hair
and a handlebar mustache.  Willow's mouth worked for a few moments, taking
in the old-fashioned clothes and the faint luminosity that surrounded his
figure.  "Are you Mr. Gordon?" she asked.
        The ghost didn't seem to hear her, although he could certainly
*see* her.  His eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that made Willow
want to be somewhere, *anywhere* but where he was.  His expression was one
of fixed coldness, lacking even the most basic thread of humanity.  While
she was trying to decide the quickest way out of the attic, the drawers
started flying out of the desk, crashing into the wall.  All but the locked
one.
        "Please," Willow said.  "I just want to find your daughter's journal --"
        ~Bad move.  Very, very bad move.~  The poltergeist didn't seem to
like that idea.  Willow screamed again as every breakable in the room
seemed to fling itself at her head.  Terrified, she took shelter behind a
bureau and covered her head with her arms.
        Only to be trapped when the wardrobe slide towards her, inextoribly
coming closer.  She was pinned in a corner between the bureau and the wall,
and would be crushed...
        "Father, no!"  Nell's cry seemed to stop the wardrobe's advance,
although it was still blocking Willow's escape.
        As though a switch had been thrown, the ghost seemed to suddenly
come to life.  He was still transparent, but there was consciousness,
understanding, *soul* in his eyes.  "Nell, lass, go to your room."
        "I want it back," she begged, tears pouring down her face.  "Please!"
        "No daughter of mine is going to ruin herself trying to prove
herself a man," Nell's father thundered.  "What man would marry a woman who
played with numbers all day long and couldn't cook to save her life?  I'm
doing this for your own good, lass."
        "Please, Father!  You don't understand.  My *work* is in there,
everything I've learned, years and years of studying.  You can't take it
away from me."
        Willow was watching the drama through the narrow crack between the
bureau and the wardrobe, and swore that she saw Mr. Gordon's expression
soften.  "Lass..." he said quietly, "I don't want to see you break your
heart on what can never be.  Even if they would allow you into that school,
even if I let you go... what would you do?  Who would hire you to use the
knowledge you would gain?  You're better off marrying and having a son who
you can teach what you know."
        "I don't want to marry and raise a son to have what I cannot.  *I*
want it!  I want to try.  Father..."
        Crying desolately, Nell's ghost flickered and disappeared.
        Mr. Gordon remained behind his desk, staring at the space where his
daughter had been a moment before.  "I didn't know.  I swear I didn't know,
girl.  I didn't know you cared so... I'm sorry.  I'm sorry..."
        Slowly, the wardrobe inched its way back from its looming position
over Willow's head.  No fragile breakables flew through the air as she
crossed to the desk.  Mr. Gordon was gone.  So, too, Willow suspected, was
Nell.
        But on the scarred and scratched surface lay a small leather book.
Inscribed on the flyleaf with faded ink was the name, "Eleanor Gordon."
********
        "It's not fair.  It's not.  Somehow, I thought that when I gained
the courage to show Father my work, when I proved to him that it was real
and true and not just a foolish young girl's imagining... I thought he
would understand, and would believe in me.  I so needed him to believe in
me.  To prove to him that I was not just his silly, flighty daughter, that
I could make him proud.
        "But I failed.  He laughed in my face, and said I was a fool for
thinking that I could ever gain admittance to the university.  Such was not
for me.  My duty, my fate, was to marry and keep a house and be a mother.
        "But... but I had to try.  I had to believe I could win.  If I had
not... then my soul would have been a desolate thing.  I *know* that the
work I have done in my little book is good, that my mind is equal and more
to any of those who will wander the halls of this new university.  And that
knowledge is my one comfort and solace."
        Willow closed the book before any of her tears smeared the ink,
clasping it to her chest and thinking.  Poor Nell.  That was the last
entry.  She must have died young, of what, Willow didn't know, but young.
        Leaving behind this book.
        Willow glanced at her bedside clock, blinking in surprise when she
saw the hour.  At this rate, she was rapidly becoming accustomed to the
night-owl hours that so many of her hacker ilk kept.  They were often the
same hours that Buffy kept, as well, in her duty to pursue and kill the
demons who hunted the night.
        And she belonged to both.  She could take pride in the fact that
what she had done for Buffy had helped her.  The horrors that she had seen
were nothing compared to the love and acceptance she had now.
        Tiptoeing downstairs, Willow peered into the parlor.  "Nell?" she
whispered.  "Nell?"
        No answer.
        Smiling slightly, Willow left the journal lying amid a stack of
computer magazines.  Someone would find it tomorrow.  Someone would read
it, and recognize what it contained.
        "I hope you're at peace now, Nell," Willow said softly.  She turned
to the door, to head back up to go to bed, and stopped, struck by a sudden
realization.  "Because I am."

THE END
************************

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (1/5)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 07:26:35 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Giles
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

Part One

        "I've had better ideas in my life," Giles said out loud to the
vastly empty clearing.  "Regrettably, I've had few more foolish ones."
        The birds were the only ones who heard him.  He was out in the
middle of nowhere, on a errand of madness.  Returning to England to close
his office at the British Museum, he had found the work moving slowly.  His
flat in Chelsea had been easy to close by comparison.  He had boxed up the
volumes that lived there and shipped them across the pond.  But his
office...  that had been more his home than the flat.  It was covered in
dust and still not large enough to bring a cat in, let alone swing one, but
no one had invaded it in his absence.  There were no windows; there were no
pictures on the wall.  Every spare space was covered in books.
        The difficulty was sorting out what belonged to him personally and
what belonged to the Museum.  Somehow, before, that had never been a
problem.  He'd always known it was his duty, his fate, to be a Watcher.
But until he had been called to Sunnydale, it never really had infringed
upon his life very much.
        Now, all of a sudden, there was here and there, this and that,
Watcher and librarian.  His life was bifocused.  He suddenly understood why
Buffy had tried to deny her fate as Slayer.  Two lives, two identities, and
only one person to live it.  It was exhausting, to say the least.  Buffy,
at least, knew which life she would rather have been living.  She would
have turned her back on her destiny, lived a normal, staid life if she
could.  But Giles...  offered the choice, which would he choose?
        The dismantling of his life in England had been a wearisome
project, one that he tackled with a complete lack of enthusiasm.  And one
that made distractions of any sort welcome.  When the director of the
library had approached him to ask that he deliver a particular volume to a
monastery in Ireland, Giles had accepted without thinking.   Now, he was
regretting his rash action.
        It was well before sundown, half-three, just as the abbot had
requested.  Giles had followed the detailed directions out to the small
henge out on the coast of County Clare, text in hand.  Why a Christian
priest would wish such a transaction in the middle of a pagan stone circle,
Giles could not understand.  The text itself was not extraordinary, a
fourteenth century retelling of the legend of Saint Patrick's life.  Giles
could be grateful that the renowned saint had driven the snakes from
Ireland.  It made picking through the nearly waist-high grass surrounding
the henge a little less hazardous.
        He'd spent his plane trip to Dublin studying the Pergamon Codex,
instead.  It puzzled him endlessly.  It was a font of knowledge, not
complete, but most definitely not wrong.  The prophecies in the Codex and
the prophecy that Aurelious recorded dovetailed perfectly.  And yet...
there was no other way to translate, "Interfectrix non cogitabit eum" other
than, "The Slayer shall not know him."
        The Codex rested in a satchel slung over Giles' shoulder, along
with three or four other volumes that needed his study, and a change of
clothes.  The *Life of Saint Patrick* that he was to return was clutched in
one hand.
        A half an hour passed, and there still was no sign of the gentleman
he was to meet.  The soft summer sun and gentle breeze swayed the grass and
stirred the green scents of the earth.  Curious, Giles wandered over to the
well-worn stones that stood silent sentinel against the ages.  There were
faint markings on their surface, engravings once deeply cut and now shadows
against the granite.  Leaning closer, he braced one hand against the
opposite stone and examined the marks carefully.
        With a flash of coruscating light, he felt himself violently thrust
into...  nothingness.
********
        It was dark when he woke up.  Pitch-black without the faintest
trace of light.  Terror gripped for a moment before he remembered to open
his eyes.
        The sun was down, but it was not quite dark.  Purple twilight
lingered overhead, specked with only the most brilliant of stars and
planets.  Giles levered himself upright, his head spinning as dizzily has
it had in his carefree youth when he and his fellows had sought to
determine who could consume the most ale in one sitting.  For the first
time, he understood why henges were often referred to as dances.  The
blocks seemed incapable of remaining inanimate around him.
        His hand fell on the satchel beside him and he gained his feet.
Obviously, the abbot was not going to appear.  He would make his way back
to the rented car that he had left parked about a mile back on the road,
drive into Shannon, and fly back to London in the morning.
        He took two steps and landed back down in the short grass.  Wisely,
he decided to remain there for a few moments.  A meteor glanced through the
heavens above him, and it seemed that there was not another soul in the
world.
        Which meant that the approach of another person took him completely
by surprise.  "Are you well, sir?  Sorry," she apologized when Giles turned
sharply, eyes wide and startled.  "I saw you sitting so still, and out here
in the middle of nowhere, and feared you were ill."
        Behind him in the dim light stood a young girl, not much older than
Buffy.  Long dark hair was tied at the nape of her neck into a loose
ponytail, and she wore a plain blouse and a long loose skirt.  "I fear...
I am disoriented.  I was waiting here for the abbot to come, but I have not
seen him."
        The girl cocked her head curiously.  A feeling of familiarity
overwhelmed Giles.  Something whispered that he should know this girl.
"Father Ambros would not leave a sheep to linger alone at night.  Not here.
You must have been misdirected.  And he had services to conduct today.  It
was St.  John's Day."
        "Midsummer's Eve," Giles murmured, checking his head for a lump.
Surely a blow to the skull would explain his dizziness and confusion, as
well as the persistent notion that he knew this girl.  There was no
swelling, however.  An energy discharge?  If a bolt of lightening had
struck nearby, it might have stunned him.  But it had been a clear, sunny
day.  No clouds in sight.
        The girl came forward to kneel beside him, helping to steady him.
"Aye, 'tis the sun feast." She grinned suddenly, pale eyes gleaming in the
low light.  "Father Ambros has no quarrel with the Old Ones, but for the
sake of his position, he can hardly acknowledge such things." With easy
strength she helped him rise, and supported him when he wobbled.  "I'll
take you to him, won't I, and he can have Brother Rugh look you over.  Rugh
is a fine healer."
        "My car is on the road.  I walked here."
        "I saw no cart on the road, sir, and I came that way.  What's your
name?" she asked, chatting away as they walked.  "You're obviously British.
Father Ambros has letters from England often, I assume you are one he
contacts there?  Or...," her voice trailed away.  "Or did they send you to
replace Henry?" she continued after making an obvious effort to steady her
tone.
        "I am Rupert Giles.  As for Henry --" Giles stopped dead.  Being
upright and mobile had done wonders for his aching head, and the clear
night air had swept away the rest of the cobwebs.  The girl did not seem
familiar because he had met her before.  To the best of his knowledge, they
had never come face to face.
        But she was, undeniably, a Slayer, something that he sensed on a
level that he could not even begin to explain.
        He was incapable of speech for several long moments.  Buffy was the
Chosen One for her generation.  There was only ever one Slayer at a time.
The only way that this girl could be one was if Buffy had been killed.
        In the silence, the girl let go of his arm.  "You are a Watcher,
aren't you?" she asked in a low, husky voice.  "I knew when Henry was
killed that they would have to send another.  But I--are you well?" she
asked urgently as Giles sank again to the ground.
        "No, I do not think so," he said, dazed.  "Tell me, was your
Watcher named Henry Wadsworth?"
        "Yes.  Did you know him?" The girl settled on her knees on the
ground in front of him.
        "No, I didn't.  For the very good reason that he died two hundred
years before my birth.  Dear God, I've traveled back in time."
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (2/5)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 07:27:20 -0700

Why, yes, I've read Diana Gabaldon.  Why do you ask?  <VBG>
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~
What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Giles
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

Part Two

        "It was the stones," Deirdre said finally.
        She and Giles had spent nearly an hour unraveling the threads that
tangled them in confusion.  The revelation that it was the year 1778 had
first stunned and then intrigued Giles.  Certainly in a year when he had
finally taken up his duties as a Watcher, had encountered vampires,
witches, giant bugs and alarming technopagans, and had cast spells for the
first time, a trip through time was not quite as alarming.
        "I quite agree.  There are legends of fairy hills, where people
fall asleep and wake a few hundred years later.  I'm not sure I've ever
heard of anyone moving *backwards* in time before."
        "Well, I would say that it did happen tonight." Deirdre stopped
within sight of the monastery.  "The question then, is, how do we get you
back?"
        "I don't know," Giles said heavily.  "Return to the stones?  But I
would think people wander through them every day, and not all of them go
missing."
        "But it was a holy night tonight.   Perhaps the door opens
briefly...  but if you step through again, will you go back farther?   Or
return to your own time?" She sighed in frustration.  "I wish I knew what
to do!  Henry was the one who guided me.  I've missed him dreadfully."
        "How did he... die?"
        "As you'd expect," she said shortly.  "One of the demons found him
and murdered him." In the hard words was a wealth of pain.  "I hate them!"
she said fiercely.  "They maim everything they touch, polluting and
desecrating what they cannot simply tear limb from limb.  I wish...."
        "You wish that you were not the Slayer, that you did not have to
know that such things existed, that it was not your duty to fight every
creature that threatens what you know and love," Giles said quietly.
        "Aye." Tears stood in her eyes.  "I want to marry and have children
and grow old...  Liam can't understand why I refused him, and I dare not
explain.  But how can I put him in danger?"
        Giles was at an awkward loss for words.  Before his helpless
silence dragged and became obvious, Deirdre took a deep breath and favored
him with a strained smile.  "Well, it cannot be helped, then.  I am the
Slayer.  It is my duty and my fate, and no tears will change it.  I will do
what I must.  Come, we must get you inside, even if few vampires are out
tonight.  They loathe Midsummer's violently.  The shortest night of the
year offends their sensibilities.  Father Ambros will make you welcome, and
Brother Rugh will make sure that you took no lasting harm."
        They walked along a few more steps before Deirdre spoke again.
"Aine will dearly love to speak with you.  He is fiercely hungry for
knowledge of the outside world." Deirdre sighed again, with regret.  "'Tis
irony that he should best find freedom within cloistered walls.  He should
be in Dublin or Oxford.  But even if the entire village gave up their
savings, we would have not a tenth of what he would need to study in such
places." She smiled fondly.  "Aine is Liam's brother, and a dearer, kinder
boy I've never known.  If you feel he is plaguing you unduly, tell him to
go away.  Curiosity will be the death of him someday."
        By that point they had reached the small gate that connected the
monastery with the outside world.  Deirdre rang the bell that hung beside
the wooden door, and within a few moments, it opened to reveal a tall,
gaunt looking man.  "Brother Rugh!" Deirdre exclaimed in relief.  "Just the
one we needed!  I found this traveler in the dance.  Perhaps thieves set on
him.  Regardless, he is dazed and in need of shelter."
        "My good man." The tall monk had a surprisingly mellow voice.  He
came around Giles' other side and supported him.  "Come with me."
        Within short order, Giles found himself examined and pronounced in
fit health.  A bowl of hearty broth and a hunk of brown bread took the edge
off his hunger.  Deirdre bid him a good night and returned to her family's
home, promising to return the next day.  Giles was given a bunk in an empty
cell.  Weary with the day's events, he immediately fell into a deep sleep.
        The sleep was broken a few hours later by a mild commotion.  Giles
stumbled out of his cell, putting his glasses on and looking blearily
about.  "What's the matter?"
        "There is a band of travelers outside seeking shelter from the
night," Brother Rugh told him.  "Five men and one woman.  From their
speech, I would say they are aristocrats and French."
        "But why the commotion?" Giles' question was answered by Father
Ambros' quiet declaration.
        "She is a female and she may very well be as ungodly as the rest of
the French.  But she is still a traveler in seek of shelter.  Brother
Fegin, let them in."
        One by one, the sumptuously caped and shod men filed in through the
narrow door.  Without exception, they were young and Adonis-like.
Following them was a woman whose velvet hood shielded her face.  She
stepped into the circle of torchlight and moved unerringly to the abbot.
        "Thank you most kindly for your hospitality.  We are grateful that
you allowed us to rest our weary bones in your house.  And if there is any
way that we can repay you, I would seek most strenuously to discover it."
        Even before the woman lowered her hood to reveal sleekly styled
blond hair and a delicate face, Giles recognized the voice.  "Dear Lord.
Darla!"
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (3/5)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 07:29:16 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Giles
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

Part Three

        "Vampires have been drawn here since before my birth," Deirdre
explained.   She had returned the monastery as soon as the sun rose,
dragging Giles away before he had even had a chance to reach the communal
dining room for a morning meal.   To compensate, she had brought
fresh-baked bread and sweet butter.   The morning had dawned with a glory
to hurt the eyes, cloudless and shining.   Giles and Deirdre occupied the
monastery garden, sitting on wooden benches and letting the sunlight pour
over them.
        "The stones," Giles hazarded a guess.
        Deirdre nodded.   "Aye.   They seek to harness the power there for
themselves.   And, as we discovered last night, they might very well be a
portal between different times.   Imagine if a vampire had that kind of
power."
        "If it is all the same to you, I'd rather not."  Giles shuddered.
"We must prevent them from controlling it."
        "I've been trying," Deirdre said impatiently.
        "But you are only one, even though you are the Slayer," Giles put
his hand on her shoulder in comfort.   "No, we must find a way to keep the
power from their hands -- permanently.   Speaking of which, we have some
visitors in the monastery today.   One of whom I recognized.   Her name is
Darla, and I doubt we shall see her out in the sunlight."
        "Are you sure she was a vampire?"  Deirdre asked urgently.   Giles'
words shattered Deirdre's peace, as his sleep had been shattered by Darla's
appearance the night before.
        "Believe me, I know her quite well.   She nearly tore my throat out
once," Giles shuddered in memory, rubbing the area in question.
        With a frustrated sound, Deirdre pushed to her feet and began
pacing amidst the rows of cabbages and potatoes.   "What incredible gall!
To take rooms in a house of God!   They will die for it," Deirdre muttered
darkly.
        "Darla is very old and very powerful," Giles warned her.  "And I
would assume that her traveling companions are her progeny, willing to
defend her to their deaths, if need be."
        "And I'm willing to defend me and mine --"  Deirdre focused her
gaze over Giles shoulder and cut herself off quickly.  "Aine!  So you do
know the way out of the scriptorium!"
        "Once in awhile, Brother Colm pushes me out for my own good," a
humorous voice returned.  "I was told that you were in the garden with the
visitor from England, and so I thought I'd come beg an introduction."
        Despite the brilliant sunlight, Giles felt very, very cold.  The
voice was warm and husky with laughter and love.  And most unmistakable.
        Deirdre led the young man in a monk's robe to where Giles sat.
Dark hair, long enough to nearly be considered shaggy, covered the
untonsured head, declaring him to be a novice, rather than a monk.  And the
face...
        "Giles, please meet my childhood playmate Aine.  He has yet to
forgive his mother for naming him Aingeal, so woe befall anyone who calls
him by his full name."
        "Or you could simply call me by the name I shall be known by when I
take my vows.  Brother Angelus, at your service, sir."  The man who would
be the vampire Giles knew as Angel bowed, with a courtly grace that would
have been amusing in his monk's robes if Giles was capable of amusement.
        "I'm...  ah, pleased, of course...  do forgive me."  Giles rose,
swaying on his feet.  "If you will excuse me..."
        "Are you ill?" Deirdre asked.  "You've gone white.  Shall I call
Brother Rugh?"  She took one arm to support him, while Angel...  Aine...
Angelus took the other.
        "No, I...  merely need to rest for a moment.  I think I shall...
yes..."
        Without thinking, Giles found his way to the chapel.  He was not a
religious man by habit or inclination.  His knowledge of the world's
darkest creatures tended to make him look at Christianity's God of Love and
Hope with a rather jaundiced eye.  But the chapel had silence and peace,
things he desperately needed.
        One monk knelt on the stone floor, telling his beads.  Giles
ignored him, sinking down onto the front pew, staring without seeing at the
flicking light of the Presence.  What should he do?  What *could* he do?
He could tell Deirdre what he knew, all of it.  That her Aine was destined
to become a vampire.  And she would, without a doubt, destroy Darla or die
trying.  They would be striking a blow to the dark ones to do it, to rescue
one soul from the demons.
        And Buffy would die in 1997 at the hands of the Vessel, without
Angel's cross to save her.  She would die when the Three set upon her,
without Angel to defend her.  She might have walked blindly into the
Master's trap, without the Codex to lend its dubious guidance, from Angel's
hand.
        Or would she?  It was all very confusing.  Giles knew what *would*
happen, should events go forward as planned.  But if he changed them, if he
revealed his foreknowledge, could he alter history?
        "Mr. Giles.  Deirdre told me I could find you here."
        It was the abbot, Father Ambros.  Giles turned to face him.  "I...
can I be of service?"
        "Perhaps I can."  With a nod, the abbot indicated that the watching
monk should leave.  When they were alone, Father Ambros moved forward.  He
genuflected and sat beside Giles on the pew.  "You should know that Deirdre
has long since confided in me about her calling," he began calmly.
        "I... see."
        "She has told me of many fantastic things.  Not the least being
about a man who came through the stones to aid her."
        "Deirdre is... talkative."
        "Deirdre is very lonely, and very alone," the abbot said quietly.
"When Henry was killed, she had no one but me to guide her.  And, simple
man that I am, could only offer support and love."  Father Ambros spread
his hands in a gesture of helplessness.  "Henry was my friend.  Although he
came here to guide Deirdre, he became a part of our community, despite
being English.  He is sorely missed."
        For long moments, the hissing of the flames in the candles was the
only sound.  "Father Ambros... if I felt that I could stop a tragedy from
occurring, if I thought I could change fate...."
        The father leaned forward, watching the face of the crucifix before
them.  "God gave men -- and women -- free will, to exercise as they see
fit."
        Such simple faith.  And so easily betrayed.  Giles turned once to
look back at the face of the suffering Christ on the Cross behind him.
"It's Angel... Angelus.  Darla will take him.  Soon, if I'm any judge."
        The hiss of indrawn breath was loud in the chapel's silence.
"Don't tell Deirdre," Father Ambros said finally, wearily.  "She's like to
act before thinking.  If she dies... then we are all in terrible danger."
        "But... if she *could* kill Darla, if we stop her from turning Angel --"
        "Then she's like to die at the hands of the others," Father Ambros
said.  "I know the girl.  Before Henry died, she accepted it as her duty to
kill the creatures who came here, who threatened her home, her family, her
friends.  But since Henry's death... it is a bitterness that has grown
stronger in her.  Hatred blinds her, blunts her.  I love her dearly," the
abbot said emphatically.  "I baptized her as an infant, watched her grown
into a strong and beautiful woman, hoped that I would preside at her
marriage to her beloved.  But if she is to fulfill her destiny, she must
not let rash emotion destroy her."
        "But the consequences could, literally, be deadly," Giles argued.
"Worse.  There's another girl, another Slayer, whose fate it was -- is --
to prevent Hell on Earth.  If I act now to prevent one demon from rising, I
might destroy any chance she would have of succeeding."
        Father Ambros rose, putting one hand on Giles' shoulder.  "I cannot
advise you.  All I can tell you is follow your conscience -- and forgive
yourself for whichever decision you make.  Come.  We must find a way to
prevent anyone from using the power of the stones for evil."
        Giles got to his feet before the words registered.  "We?"
        "Of course."  The abbot smiled.  "Surely between a Watcher, a
Slayer and a man of God, we shall prevail?"
        "I'm afraid I do not share your optimism," Giles said heavily.  He
paused, torn.  "I led one Slayer into her destiny blindly.  I cannot do the
same to another."
        "As you will," the abbot said quietly.  "But might I suggest you
wait until we have bound the stones?  We shall need her full attention for
that."
        It was still early.  The sun was barely above the horizon.  They
had until nightfall to deal with the vampires who had made their unholy
lair in a holy place.  Giles nodded.  "I will."
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (4/5)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 07:31:38 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Giles
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

Part Four

        Before the sun had completed its rise to the zenith, Deirdre, Giles
and the abbot were on their way to the standing stones.  "A binding ritual
should be fairly simple," Giles explained.  "The difficulty is, I need to
be able to return through the stones -- if such a thing is possible."
        "It should be." Father Ambros assured him.  "You were brought
through the stones for a reason.  Presumably, once that reason is
fulfilled, then you shall return."
        "Let us hope," Deirdre murmured.
        In the sunlight, the stones looked like what they were, worn lumps
of granite, blasted by sea winds into random shapes.  Giles crossed to one
of them, the one he had been standing by when he had taken his sudden,
unscheduled trip.  Tentatively, he placed his hand on it.
        Nothing.
        Deirdre turned to Father Ambros.  "What should we do?"
        The abbot opened his Book and began to recite prayers, calling
blessings down upon the place, asking for intercession from Saint Patrick
and Saint Bridget.  While he spoke, Giles searched his memory for rituals,
rites, anything that he could use.  Drawing on his limited practical
experience, he began to cast a Circle whose purpose was much the same as
the monk's prayers:  an appeal to whatever Powers to protect this place, to
keep creatures of darkness from using and exploiting it.
        Deirdre said nothing, merely wandered from one stone to the other,
pausing here to think, there to lightly brush her hand over the weathered
rock.  "I feel it," she said finally, haltingly.  "Whatever is here.  I...
*know* it."  She shook her head in confusion.  "I don't understand.  But
the power is here."
        "We're ready," Father Ambros said.
        "For what?" Giles snapped.  "To bind the power of the stones?  To
what?  I've seen a demon bound to a book and a mechanical body.  I've seen
a vampire bound to a mystical portal.  But to what do we bind this power to
that will still let me use it?"
        "The sun," Deirdre said quietly.
        Both men immediately looked up, and automatically blinked against
the bright light.  "Don't you see?" Deirdre continued.  "The power in and
of itself is not evil, but the *purpose* that it might be put to if the
greatest evil we know could harness it is what we fear.  But if we linked
the power of these stones to the one thing that they cannot tolerate...."
She spread her hands in an all-encompassing gesture and shrugged.
        "Well done, lass," the abbot said.  "Well done.  Now then, Mr.
Giles, since I freely admit that this is quite outside of my own
experience, I'll defer to you to your greater experience."
        "All right then."  Giles took a deep breath.  "Father, if you would
be so good as to stand opposite me.  And Deirdre, over there, to make three
points of a triangle...."
********
        The shadows were lengthening by the time the three returned to the
monastery.  Giles began marshaling his arguments.  Deirdre needed to know
what she was fighting.  But... would it help or hinder her to know
precisely how close to her heart Darla would strike?  Would it give her the
will to survive, or would it, as the abbot had said, drive her hot-headed
temper into a blind fury that would result in her death?
        Before Giles could even begin to try to explain, a young man with
dark hair intercepted Deirdre.  "Liam, no --" she said, automatically
pulling away.
        "Deirdre, listen to me.  I need to talk with you.  Please."  He was
a year or two older than his brother, Aine, and bore a strong resemblance,
although did not quite have the otherworldly beauty of his brother.
        "I've given you my answer already," Deirdre said quietly.
        "And it makes no sense!" Liam burst out.  "You *can't* marry me?
Explain it!  You have no calling to the Church, you do not love another --"
        "You know I love you," she said, her voice fierce with her emotions.
        Father Ambros touched Giles' arm.  "Let's leave them," he murmured
low.  "It is an argument that will never be settled, yet they must fight it
whenever they meet.  They are well-matched... perhaps too much so."
        Slowly, with a heavy heart, Giles made his way back to the garden.
He pitied Deirdre, for being so young and in love and completely lacking
any choice in her life.  Yet she was strong enough to try to protect Liam,
to try to keep him far enough away that the demons she fought couldn't
touch him --
        Giles froze in the entryway of the garden, hidden from view.  Angel
knelt before a vegetable patch, halfheartedly pulling weeds.
        And, carefully keeping out of the sun's rays, was Darla.
        "Greetings," she called.  Angel turned towards her, startled.  A
brilliant shaft of sunlight touched his face and turned his shining dark
hair into a gleaming pelt.  "I hadn't seen you here today."
        Rising politely, Angel bowed to the woman who was a guest of the
abbot.  "I am Brother Angelus.  Or will be, when I take my vows.  I've been
inside most of the day.  In the scriptorium."
        "Really?"  Darla tilted her head in an almost cartoonish parody of
interest.  "Now why would you want to spend the day trapped in a room full
of dusty old books?" she purred.
        Angel smiled slightly, and took one step towards her, not immune to
the lure of a beautiful woman.  The wind played in the trees, casting
dancing shadows over him.  "Ah, lady, but they are not.  They are the key
to the world for me.  The closest I shall ever come to seeing that world
for myself."  Giles flinched at the bitterness in the boy's voice, a
bitterness that he had obviously hidden from those he had loved.
        Darla's lips curled into a smile.  "So... you do not wish to become
a monk to serve God?" she asked delicately.
        "If I had a choice..."  Angel's voice trailed off.
        "Yes.  If you had a choice, what would you choose?"  Diffuse light
danced in the golden threads of her hair, brightened the china blue of her
eyes.  Giles knew better, and still wondered how a creature so
innocent-looking could be so deadly.
        "I would choose... everything."  Angel's voice was low and strained
with want.
        Darla watched him for a very long moment.  ~I must warn Deirdre,~
Giles thought.  ~It will be tonight, sooner than I had hoped.~
        Without altering her gentle, sweet smile, Darla raised her hand and
beckoned.  "I can give it to you.  Everything your heart desires.  Power,
knowledge, wealth.  Enough to rule the world.  Come to me."
        Slowly, Angel moved forward.  His hand slid into shadow, took hers,
and then he fell to his knees at her feet.  "Lady," he said, bringing her
hands to his lips, his head humbly bowed.  "I will serve you as best I may.
Your patronage means the world to me."
        "I know."  The voice was no longer sweet.  Angel looked up -- into
her demon face.
        He did not even have time to scream before her teeth were in his
throat.  It happened so quickly, so very quickly, that Giles was frozen in
horror.  Before he could react, Darla lifted her blood-stained mouth from
Angel's neck.  She tore at her wrist with her own teeth, and pressed it to
Angel's mouth.  "Drink, my Angelus, my angelic one.  Drink, and wake to
your new life."
        Before it was done, Giles finally forced his paralyzed muscles to
move.  He stumbled away, into the courtyard proper of the monastery, before
being violently ill.  The heaves wracked his body for long minutes, but
nothing was worse than the thought that pounded in his brain.  ~Too late.
Too late.  Too late.~
        When his mind began working again, he forced his body to move.  He
didn't want to.  He wanted to remain curled on the ground, time halted, so
that the destruction he knew was coming would not come.  But his cowering
would not stop it.  He had to find Deirdre, to warn her.  Tonight, the
vampires that the abbey had so trustingly sheltered would repay their
hospitality with slaughter.  And Angel would be among them.
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (5/5)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 07:31:59 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Giles
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

Part Five

        He found her, finally, in the chapel.  A monk was changing the
candle in the Presence, fitting a new one to burn red into the night.  Its
flame was invisible in the last slanting rays of the setting sun.
        Deirdre sat, head bowed, before the altar, hands listlessly clasped
in her lap.  Alone.  Her averted face was a study in gentle grief, in
wistful dreams.  For a moment, Giles' voice simply deserted him.  He was
struck by a sudden memory of Buffy sitting on the edge of a fountain,
watching her last hope of a normal life walk away from her.  Not her true
love, not even a friend of her heart.  Merely the desire for something
other from what fate had called her to.
        Fate had chosen not to hear.  And instead, called her to another,
by whose very nature she was inextricably bound to her destiny.
        Giles shook the thoughts away.  There was no time.  *No time.*
"Deirdre."  He came more fully into the chapel, crossed to her side.
"Deirdre, we must hurry.  Darla has risen."
        Deirdre's head snapped up, looking first at Giles then out to judge
the slant of the setting sun.  "What?  How can that be?  It's not dusk
yet!"
        She rose as Giles spoke, taking up a flask and filling it with holy
water from the font, murmuring a prayer as she did.  "I saw her.  She was
careful to keep in the shadows."
        Deirdre turned, catching up a sack that rattled slightly as it was
lifted.  Full of stakes.  "She took a chance in doing so.  Why?"
        Giles took a deep breath.  "She gained something in return.
Deirdre... she made another."
        Deirdre barely halted as she moved toward the door, although her
lips shaped Gaelic curses older than the God on the cross behind her.
        "Deirdre.  It was Angel.  Aine."  Giles heard the hoarseness of his
own voice.  "She took Aine."
        That stopped her.  She did not look around, though, merely stared
ahead of her.  "Then she will die.  And the demon that took my friend's
body will die as well."  The words were low and fierce.
        Giles caught her arm as she started to leave the chapel.  "Darla
was alive in my time.  I do not know if you can kill her," he said bluntly.
"But you must promise me one thing.  You cannot kill Angel."
        "Aine is already dead," she said bitterly, the unnatural coldness
beginning to break through to wild pain.
        "You must not kill him," Giles said again, urgently.  "He must
survive.  In a century and a half, he will receive a gift -- or curse --
that no vampire has ever received.  His soul will be restored to him.  And
in two hundred years, he will save the life of another Slayer.  One whom he
loves and who loves him.  Deirdre, listen to me.  I don't know if you
change change what is to come.  But if you can, if you kill Angel now, then
the world *I* know will be destroyed."
        Deirdre's hand tightened convulsively on the one stake she carried.
After a very long moment, she said, "Damn you.  All right."
        She stepped across the threshold of the chapel, outside, as the
first terrible scream shattered the newborn night.
        Giles endured that cry, and the ones that followed.  In the chapel,
he was safe.  If nothing else, between the holy water and the holy images,
he had weapons.  But... his Slayer was facing seven vampires.  One wearing
a face as familiar as her own, and yet so horribly different.  He couldn't
allow her to challenge them alone.  He couldn't let her be alone.
        Shattering a lone chair that leaned against the wall, he collected
splinters of wood to use as stakes.  He snatched a cross from the wall, and
remembered he had a drinking pouch that would hold holy water in his small
cell.  Carefully, he made his way to the room he had slept in the night
before, snatching up the pouch that rested beside his satchel.
        He turned to dash from the room -- and found his way blocked by Angel.
        His mind, oddly enough, turned clear and cold.  Emotion
disappeared, logic ruled.  He had failed, if such could be considered a
failure, to stop Angel from becoming a vampire.  Whether or not fate was an
absolute, events had moved forward in their accustomed way.  Which
meant....
        Giles raised the cross he carried in his hand, and fumbled behind
him for his satchel.  Angel flinched violently away, giving Giles the
precious moment he needed to extract the correct book from the bag.  When
Angel tried to advance on him, Giles lifted the cross again.  "Listen to
me.  This book --" he held up the Codex "-- you must take it.  I give it to
you."  Kneeling, he carefully laid the book on the ground.
        Although he still cringed from the cross, Angel laughed, a
hideously smug sound.  "What do I care of books now?  I'm immortal!  I have
power that your puny mind could never dream of!"
        "Listen to me!" Giles said fiercely, rising.  "There will be a
girl, a Slayer.  In two centuries, at the time of the Harvest, a Slayer
will come to where you live.  When Buffy does... when she does, then
someone will ask you for this book.  Give it to him.  Do you understand
me?"  Giles was gambling on fate.  If fate was immutable, then Angel would
keep the book -- if only out of arrogance and greed when he was ruled by
the demon in him rather than by his soul.
        If not... then they were all doomed.
        "I care nothing for your books," Angel said again, scornfully.  He
advanced on Giles, but had to retreat again from the image of the cross.
Giles managed to circle around him and flee from the room.
        Leaving the Codex behind.
********
        Giles spent the hours before dawn pulling as many of the brothers
of the monastery into the chapel as he could find.  Many were limp bodies
left to sprawl where they fell, pale and bloodless from a vampire's hunger.
Giles knelt beside Father Ambros and closed his eyes.  "I hope your faith
was as true in the end as it was in your life," he murmured, the one prayer
he could give.
        Near dawn, the faint sounds of fighting faded and died away.  It
was in the scriptorium that Giles found Deirdre.  She was curled on the
floor near one of the wide windows, where the pearly light in the east was
strengthening.  Her arms were wrapped around Liam, and she rocked him
slowly in her arms.  Tears streaked her cheeks, catching the early light
and giving her the radiance of grief, a Pieta for a beloved.
        Giles knelt beside her.  Words were useless.  Helpless, he put his
hand on her shoulder, tried to convey with hesitant touch all his heart
could not say.
        With a wordless cry, she turned into the shelter of his arm,
pressing her face to his chest.  Keening for the dead.
        Day was full and bright before her wails ceased.  Deirdre raised
her face to his.  "Did... did anyone survive?"
        Giles nodded.  "Yes.  Some.  They are in the chapel.  It was... it
was the only place I could think of that would shelter them."
        "Meager shelter it is.  And yet you did not avail yourself of it?"
        "It was my duty --" Giles began, but Deirdre pushed violently away.
        "Duty be damned!" she cried, her heart bleeding pain into her
voice.  "There lies my duty."  She turned her gaze back to Liam.  "My love,
and I could not save him.  He walked to his brother with perfect trust --
and the demon killed him.  And I could not save him!"
        She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking again
with sobs.  After a moment, she dropped them.  "I killed five," she said in
a dull voice.  "The five that accompanied Darla.  I never saw her at all.
And Aine...."  Her voice broke.  "I saw him fling his brother's body from
him as though it were so much refuse, and yet even then I could not kill
him.  I wanted to," she said savagely.  "Despite my promise to you, I
wanted him dead.  But... oh, but he was my friend!"  Deirdre turned
pleading eyes on Giles, washed as clear as rainwater by her tears.  "How
could I kill him?"
        Giles had no answer for her.
        "Holy Mother save us."  Brother Rugh stumbled into the room.  He
was dazed with shock and pain.  "The village.  Dear God, the village!  So
many...."
********
        Three days later, it was time.  Word of Henry Wadsworth's death had
finally reached those who took care of such things, and another Watcher
journeyed to Ireland to protect the Slayer.  Giles explained as much as he
felt he could to Harriet Wadsworth, Henry's sister.  She promised to keep
any mention of him out of her journals, and was blessedly incurious about
who and what he was.
        She took the sealed letter he wrote, promising that it would be
held until the date indicated on it:  June, 1997, before being sent to the
abbot of the monastary who would call the British Museum and start the
chain of events that would lead to Giles being called again to Ireland.
        She also promised to take Deirdre away from the ruins of her life.
The village had been savagely attacked by Angel and Darla.  Those who
remained alive cursed the place.  The monks would be absorbed into another
monastery, the villagers would settle elsewhere.
        And this little spot of Ireland would become a place of ghosts,
avoided by all.
        On a bright, sunny morning, Deirdre walked with him out to the
stones.  "Are you sure this will work?" she asked anxiously.  "What if they
take you back another two hundred years?"
        Giles shouldered his pack.  It felt disturbingly light without the
Codex.  "Buffy needs me.  I need to try."
        Deirdre nodded.  Grief had ravaged her young face, and its touch
would never leave her.  But it seemed, somehow, to emphasize her strength
and determination.  Giles had told her all he knew about Angel, all that
Buffy had told him.  That Angel's soul would be restored to him because of
the death of a young foolish girl.  That he would, so reluctantly, help a
Slayer in her task.  And that he fight with and for that Slayer.
        And that Darla would die by his hand.  Liam and Father Ambros and
all who had slaughtered would be avenged.
        Deirdre took a small silver crucifix from a pouch at her waist and
gave it to Giles.  "This belonged to my father.  I want you to have it.
After all," she said, with the faintest ghost of a smile, "you seem to need
all the protection you can get."
        "I... uh, thank you," Giles said, overwhelmed by the gift from a
girl who should have no cause other than to hate him.  He appeared in her
life, and chaos followed.
        Impulsively, Deirdre flung her arms around his neck and clung
tight.  "Godspeed," she whispered.
        Eyes stinging, Giles returned the embrace.  "And you," he managed.
        And then he stepped through the stones and the world disappeared.
********
        Giles' return to the twentieth century was heralded in the most
prosaic of ways:  a chip wrapper fluttering in the tall grass near his
nose.  Even before his head stopped spinning and his stomach stopped
threatening to relocate to remoter parts of his body, he knew that the
stones had returned him to where -- to *when* -- he had come from.
        After a few moments, Giles found the strength to shove himself
upright.  And topple over in the other direction.  He really had to
remember to bring along some motion sickness pills the next time he
traveled through time.
        This time, the sense of another person's presence infiltrated his
mind slowly, so that when he raised his gaze to the monk sitting on a
fallen lintel, it didn't startle him.  "Greetings," the monk said.  Rising
from the stone, he plucked the wrapper from the grass.  "I'm afraid that's
mine.  It got away from me."  He shrugged, humorously deprecating.  "I got
hungry while waiting."
        "Waiting?" Giles said, pleased to hear his voice had, in fact, made
the return trip with him.  "Waiting?"
        "Yes.  You see, a letter was left at the abbey, years ago.  Old and
yellowed, and dated this month.  It was opened it on the first of June, and
the abbot followed the instructions in it."
        "Abbey?" Giles asked, putting his hand to his head as one would
touch a glass that was vibrating to stop the sound.
        The monk nodded.  "Aye.  They reopened it, oh, about a hundred
years ago.  A donation from a mysterious party gave us the funds, and
periodic donations since then have made us able to help many.  The letter
was found in the old library of the abbey, and kept since."
        "I, uh, well."  Giles found himself at a loss for words.  "This,
uh, I believe is yours."  On automatic pilot, he pulled the copy of ~The
Life of Saint Patrick~ from his much-traveled satchel and offered it to the
monk.
        Accepting it, the brother chuckled.  "This wasn't really necessary,
you know.  I just needed an excuse to have you here at this certain time on
this certain day.  It is still Midsummer's, you know."
        "I... no, I didn't.  How much *did* you see?" Giles asked, baffled.
        The monk smiled.  "Enough.  And did you think that the power of the
stones had never been discovered by anyone else?"  Leather-bound book in
hand, the monk turned to the same faint path that Deirdre had led Giles on
a few days -- and two hundred years -- before.
        "Thank you... ah, I don't know your name."
        The monk turned back.  "God bless you, Rupert Giles, for what you
did.  And as for who I am... call me Brother Luca."

THE END
************************

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Matthew Wahoske" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC:  A Fresh Start (1/?)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 23:34:16 -0500

TITLE: A Fresh Start (1/?)
AUTHOR: Matthew J. Wahoske
EMAIL: [e-mail]
DISTRIBUTION: Anya only.  All others ask permission.
SPOILERS:  "Angel" and "Prophecy Girl", in particular.  The
whole first season, in general.
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon's fertile mind, 20th Century Fox, and
Warner Bros. own these characters, not me.
RATING: G

It had been only a little more than a day since she had
died and been resurrected.  Buffy Summers still didn't know what
to think of the events of the past few days.  First, the
increasing numbers of vampires; then, an earthquake; her best
friend Willow almost having a mental breakdown; and finally, her
own death at the hands of the Master.

*If it hadn't been for Angel - and Xander - *, she quickly
added, *I wouldn't be here right now.  Of course, on the first
day of finals, I might actually prefer being dead.  At least
then, I wouldn't have had to study all last night.*  She was
determined not to let the History final catch her off guard, as
it had in her nightmare a few weeks ago.  *Thank goodness Willow
was able to keep me focused.*  It was hard to think of the past,
when the present and the future were foremost in her mind.

Ever since she had been reborn, she knew something had
changed.  Instead of feeling weak from the loss of blood caused
by the Master's bite, a feeling of strength had surged through
her body, emanating from an unknown force buried deep within
her.  Her senses had heightened to an awareness beyond that of
any other human.  She had KNOWN where the Master was and that
she could defeat him.  After his defeat, she had stared at his
skeleton with a hatred that consumed her.  He had dared to
attempt to destroy her, the Slayer!  Well, he had paid for his
mistake.  The same fate would come to anyone else who tried to
mess with her in the future!

The self-important arrogance had faded as the night wore
on.  The new-found strength and senses had not.  The variety of
sound and movement at the dance had almost overwhelmed her at
first.  Slowly, she had been able to filter out all the
extraneous noise and activity, reducing it to an acceptable
level.  She vaguely remembered that while dancing with Angel -
or was it Xander - she had thrown her partner halfway across the
room, where he had landed with a crash against the punch bowl.
Half of its contents had splashed onto Principal Snyder.
Needless to say, he was not a picture of sweetness and light.
*Luckily, the others covered for me.*  The rest of the night
passed in a blur.

She had slept almost all of Sunday, before being awakened
from a call by Willow wondering if she was all right.  After
assuring her that she was, she had quickly accepted Willow's
offer of studying.  She needed something to take her mind off
her problems.

And now here she was, in front of Sunnydale High School,
ready to put her hard-gained knowledge to work.  She walked
quickly to the History classroom.  She would meet Giles later in
the library, or what was left of it.  Hopefully, he had dealt
with the Master's skeleton yesterday.  It had been pretty stupid
of them to leave it unguarded Saturday night, but the relief of
beating back the forces of hell had caused their common sense to
take a vacation.  *I wasn't exactly thinking clearly that night,
anyway.  Oh well, I didn't get any frantic calls from Giles
yesterday, so I suppose everything's alright.*  She stopped
reminiscing as she entered the classroom.  *If I just think of
the final as another demon to slay, I'll do fine.*


Two hours later, Buffy emerged from the classroom with a glassy
look in her eyes and a slight ache in her right hand.  *I
haven't written that many words that fast since I first wrote
about Angel in my diary.*  Angel.  Thinking about him had been
one of the few pleasures in her life.  But since the dance, her
feelings had been changing.  For some reason, she could now only
think of Angel as a vampire that she should destroy, and not as
the tormented soul that loved her more than anything in the
world.  Try as she might, she could not shake the feeling that
she was shirking her duty in not staking Angel as soon as she
could.  *It must have something to do with my new powers.  I'll
have to ask Giles about it.*  She sighed.  *Why is there always
something to worry about in Slayerland?*

On the way to the library, Buffy felt a tap on her shoulder.
She whirled around and held the unfortunate student against the
wall with a tight grip around his neck.

"Listen, Buster, no one touches the Slayer from behind. Got it?"

Buffy quickly stopped talking as she saw that the person she was
strangling was Xander.

"Xander!  God, I'm sorry!"  Buffy let Xander go.  He slowly sank
to the floor in a fit of coughing.  "I don't know what's the
matter with me."  She looked sorrowfully at the recovering boy.

"I'm going to have to start wearing armor around you," Xander
said, after a while.  "After this, and that throw you gave me at
the dance, I'm beginning to believe that my asking you out the
other day has released some pent-up loathing of me."

*So, it was Xander that I was dancing with.  He must have been
in nirvana - at least until he landed in the punch.  Knowing
Xander, some unsolicited touching and feeling was the reason for
my extreme reaction.*  "No, that's not true.  I didn't even know
it was you just now."

"So when did you decide to start announcing you're the Slayer to
anyone who happens to brush against you?"  Xander had managed
to get back on his feet but was still a little unsteady.

"I didn't.  At least, I didn't mean to.  Look, Xander, things
have been pretty crazy the last few days.  I'm just not quite
myself yet."

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that when you ran after Angel with a
stake at the Bronze.  Of course, I was trying to dry off from my
trip to the punch bowl at the time, so I didn't see everything,
but - "

"Wait!  What did you say?"

"I said that you tried to dust Angel in the midst of the Spring
Fling.  Sort of a unique way to show affection for your
boyfriend.  Fortunately, Giles, Ms. Calendar, and Willow were
able to restrain you, barely.  Giles took you home."  By now,
Xander had fully recovered.  "You know, I don't really care for
Angel that much, but it was pretty harsh of you to try to off
the guy who loves you and helped me save you."

"I'm afraid I don't remember any of this.  All I remember is
going to the dance, throwing someone into the punch bowl, and
then waking up the next day."  *Why hadn't Willow told me any of
this last night?*  "I'd better go find Giles, and have him find
out what's wrong with me."

"Then it's off to the computer lab."  Xander turned and headed
for Ms. Calendar's room.

"The computer lab?"

"Yeah.  Since the library was pretty banged up after our save-
the-world party, Giles relocated most of his stuff to Ms.
Calendar's lab.  He said his computer phobia would have to be
put on hold until the library's fixed.  Besides, I think he
likes being around Ms. C."  Xander grinned.

*It's about time he found someone his own age to be with.*  "OK,
let's go visit the odd couple."  Buffy strode off quickly,
leaving Xander to follow behind.

End of Part 1

Feedback requested!




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Matthew Wahoske" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC:  A Fresh Start (2/?)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 23:36:08 -0500

TITLE: A Fresh Start (2/?)
AUTHOR: Matthew J. Wahoske
EMAIL: [e-mail]
DISTRIBUTION: Anya only. Any one else ask first.
RATING: PG - some mild language.
SYNOPSIS:  Buffy's not quite herself after being resurrected.
After almost staking Angel at the Spring Fling, the rest of the
night passes in a blur.  Now it's the Monday of finals week, and
after taking the history final, Buffy accidently attacks Xander
and learns of her exploits at the dance.  She goes off to get
help from Giles (now located in the computer lab), with Xander
following behind.
SPOILERS:  "Angel" and "Prophecy Girl", in particular.  The
whole first season, in general.
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon's fertile mind, Mutant Enemy, 20th
Century Fox, and Warner Bros. own these characters, not me.  I
also want to acknowledge whoever first used the name "Nikki" to
refer to Ms. Calendar.  Unfortunately, I don't know who this
person is. Please let me know.

In the Sunnydale High computer lab, a tired Rupert Giles was
poring over one of the many books of occult lore which had been
moved from the library, while Ms. Nikki Calendar and Willow
Rosenberg were engrossed in research on the internet.  After a
while, Giles looked up from his book and glanced at Willow.
"She remembered nothing about what happened at the dance?"

"Not as far as I could tell.  We studied for at least three or
four hours, and she never mentioned the dance once.  I figured
that she didn't want to talk about it, so I didn't bring it up."

"Buffy studying is proof enough that something is wrong," Giles
remarked.  "Not talking about social activities is a veritable
sign of the apocalypse.  However, I've no idea what to do.  I
couldn't find anything about the effects of resurrection in my
Watcher journals.  I doubt it's ever happened to a Slayer
before.  There has to be something in these books."

Giles returned to the dusty volumes, anxiously searching for any
clue that could help him assess the condition of the girl that
he had pledged his life to protect.  *She's been through so much
in the past year.  So much death, so much grief.  And when she
needed me the most, I could do nothing but watch the prophecy
she feared come true.  I will not allow anything more to happen
to her.*

Giles's anguished thoughts were interrupted by an angry voice.
"All right people, what is going on here?"  Everyone turned to
look at Buffy, who had just entered the room.  She stared at
Giles.  "I heard that remark about my studying ability.  Of
course, I can hear practically everything within a half-mile
from here, which, I must say, is pretty distracting.  In
addition, I suddenly despise and loathe Angel, who I apparently
almost staked at the dance.  Unfortunately, he got away."  Buffy
looked at Willow.  "Thanks for telling me last night, Will,"
Buffy said sarcastically.  "By the way, I just nearly strangled
Xander for touching my shoulder."

"Is he alright?"  Willow jumped up from the computer, full of
concern.

"As much as can be expected after such a traumatic experience.
Nothing that a few chocolate bars couldn't fix, however," said
Xander as he staggered into the lab, panting. "You've gotta
learn to slow down, Buff.  This junk-food riddled body isn't
built for that kind of exertion."  Willow, relieved, guided
Xander to a chair next to her.

"Will someone answer my question?"  Buffy picked up one of the
books littering Giles's table.  "Doesn't one of these all-
knowing prophecy books cover this situation?  Oh, wait a minute.
They probably expected me to stay dead and are now disappointed
that I managed to evade their sayings of doom."  She returned
the book to the table with a loud thump.

Giles took off his glasses and nervously started to wipe them
with his handkerchief.  "I'm afraid, Buffy, that we've been
unable to find any information on why you've, um, changed."

"Well, I hope you're able to find out before tonight, because
I've got to study for the biology test tomorrow, and I don't
need any distractions."  Buffy turned her attention to Willow,
her anger quickly subsiding as she spoke to her best friend.  "I
assume you'll help me again, right?  I can't thank you enough
for giving me a private history lesson last night, especially
since you had your computer final today."

Willow was surprised at how quickly Buffy's mood had changed.
"Hey, that's what friends are for.  Besides, computer knowledge
just comes easily to me.  I hate to say this, Ms. Calendar, but
your test was pretty simple for a final exam."  Willow smiled
softly at the teacher, who looked up from her computer.

"Perhaps if I hadn't spent the last two nights with Rupert, I
would have been able to come up with harder questions."  Ms.
Calendar stared at Giles with a mischievous look.

Buffy, Xander, and Willow glanced first at Ms. Calendar and then
at Giles, who did his best to avoid their astonished faces.
Xander was the first to recover from the shock.  "Way to go,
Giles!  I knew something was up between you two, but I didn't
think it was this far up."  He went over to the librarian and
spoke softly.  "If you ever need some advice on how to handle
women, know that I'm always available to tell you what not to
do."

"Thank you for your offer, Mr. Harris, but I'm afraid you and
your friends are gravely mistaken in your assumptions of what
happened during the night.  Ms. Calendar and I were simply
taking care of some unfinished business involving the Master's
skeleton".   Giles glared at Ms. Calendar, annoyed at her
indiscretion.

"I hope you got rid of that bastard once and for all, " Buffy
said with unaccustomed vehemence.  "'Cause I don't want to have
to fight Mr. Fruit-Punch Mouth again.  Not that it would take
much time to get rid of a loser who couldn't even take over a
high school.  It's just that I've been there and done that.
Besides, being reborn is an overrated experience - one I don't
care to repeat."  She shuddered at the thought of reliving that
horrible night.

"I'm sure the Master will pose no threat to you in the future,"
Giles stated with authority.  *I hope.*  "Unfortunately, we have
run into a few problems in finding the correct ritual to
properly dispose of his remains.  As a result, we've had to find
a safe hiding place for his bones."

"Typical.  And where would that be, pray tell?" Buffy said
wearily.

Once again, Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them - more
vigorously this time.  "Well, first we placed them, um, in the
boot of my car."

"The what?"  Buffy was now thoroughly exasperated.

Giles sighed.  *When would these children learn to understand
English?*  "The trunk."  Buffy started to open her mouth but was
stopped by Giles' hand.  "Now before you start to complain, let
me explain what happened."  Buffy sat down, knowing that Giles
was about to embark on a lengthy discourse.

"After your attack on Angel, you seemed to fall into a trance.
We told Principal Snyder that your behavior was due to some
medication you were taking and hurriedly took you home.  After
making sure that you were safe, and telling your mother you were
exhausted from the excitement of the dance, Ms. Calendar and I
returned to the library to clean up.  We had just started to
clear away the rubble when, once again, we were graced with the
presence of our beloved Principal.  Fortunately, I had already
placed the Master's corpse in my office, out of sight.  It took
all my skills of persuasion to calm Snyder down and convince him
that the condition of the room was a surprise to us as well.
After I advanced a theory that the library was demolished by
disgruntled students who couldn't obtain dates to the dance, he
went off to report the damage to the police.  We knew that we
had to remove the bones from the building before they came.
Since we were in a hurry, we put the skeleton in the first safe
place we found, which happened to be my car.  Obviously, we
couldn't keep the bones in the car indefinitely.  Someone had to
keep watch over them, especially at night, when the danger of
having them stolen is greater.  I finally thought of Angel.  If
the skeleton was kept at his apartment, he could guard it all
night long.  So Ms. Calendar helped me take the bones to him
last night, where they could stay until we could think of a
better solution."

Buffy shot up from her chair and raced towards Giles, incensed.
"You gave the Master's remains to Angel - one of his former
servants?  How could you trust one of them?  Are you that
stupid?"

"Have you forgotten that Angel, unlike other vampires, has a
human soul and has helped us many times in the past, saving all
our lives?"  Giles protested.  "Have you forgotten that you
yourself once stayed your hand and let him live because of your
love for him?"

Buffy thought of the night when her mother had been bitten by
Darla, and she had gone to the Bronze in a rage to kill Angel,
whom she had mistakenly blamed for the wound.  Angel had given
her the chance to eliminate him, but she had refused.  "That was
a moment of weakness," Buffy exclaimed.  "I allowed myself to be
taken in by his charm and good looks.  That won't work now, now
that I've been renewed and truly become the Slayer.  The demon
inside Angel will eventually overthrow his human soul, and when
it does, the consequences will be terrible.  I will not allow
that to happen.  He must be destroyed!"

By now, Buffy was in a frenzy, barely able to contain her anger.

Willow and Xander cautiously approached her, ready to restrain
her if necessary.  *If it's possible to stop her with her new
powers,* thought Willow.  Even Giles gazed with fear at the
depth of the Slayer's wrath.

Ms. Calendar, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the
preceding activity, suddenly broke her silence.  "People, I hate
to disturb a good tirade, but I've just received a new message
from our cryptic informer, Brother Luca."  The lab was still.
"I think I can explain what's going on."

End of part 2

Feedback requested!




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Matthew Wahoske" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC:  A Fresh Start (3/?)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 23:37:53 -0500

Part 3

TITLE: A Fresh Start (3/?)
AUTHOR: Matthew J. Wahoske
EMAIL: [e-mail]
DISTRIBUTION: Anya only.  All others ask permission.
RATING: PG - some mild language.
SYNOPSIS:  Buffy's not quite herself after being resurrected.
After almost staking Angel at the Spring Fling, the rest of the
night passes in a blur.  Now it's the Monday of finals week, and
after taking the history final, Buffy accidently attacks Xander
and learns of her exploits at the dance.  She goes off to get
help from Giles (now located in the computer lab), with Xander
following behind.  In the lab, she learns that Giles and Ms.
Calendar have given the Master's skeleton to Angel for safe
keeping.  She is incensed at this, and is about to explode when
Ms. Calendar informs the others that Brother Luca has
reappeared, allowing her to explain what's going on.
SPOILERS:  "The Pack", "Angel", and "Prophecy Girl" in
particular.  The whole first season, in general.
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon's fertile mind, Mutant Enemy, 20th
Century Fox, and Warner Bros. own these characters, not me.

Giles walked over to Ms. Calendar's computer terminal.  "Brother
Luca has reappeared?"  Ms. Calendar nodded.  "He's writing from
a different address now, though."

Xander raised his hand in confusion.  "Excuse me, as the
perpetually clueless member of the group, I'd like to ask: who
is this Brother Luca?"

"He's a monk who often writes words of warning to the occult
newsgroups I read,"  Ms. Calendar explained.  "Saturday morning
he sent one final message about the Anointed One, then
disappeared from the net.  He must have emerged from wherever he
was hiding, after he realized that the world was no longer in
imminent danger.  I just received this e-mail from him:  'A new
Slayer rises in the form of the old; the power of two comes
together in one.'"  Ms. Calendar came to a swift conclusion.
"It appears Buffy now has the supernatural gifts of two Slayers
within her."

Once again, silence fell over the lab, as the group took some
time to grasp the implications of the statement.  Suddenly,
Giles slammed his fist on the desk in front of him.  "Of course!
Why didn't I see this before?"  he said in frustration.  "'One
Slayer dies, the next is called.'  When Buffy died, she was
called as the next Slayer and resurrected, since she was the
only possible choice close enough to defeat the Master in time.
Being called twice, however, has given her a double portion of
the Slayer's power.  This must have increased not only her
strength, but also her hearing ability, her sensitivity to a
vampire's presence, and her connection to the role of the
Slayer, which explains her changed attitude towards Angel."
*And her vastly enlarged ego.*

Xander was now even more confused.  "Wait a minute.  If Buffy
was called again to be the Slayer, why didn't she revive until
after I performed CPR on her?"

Giles began to improvise an answer that made some sense of the
situation.  "The next Slayer could not be called until Buffy had
truly died.  Perhaps she also had to be out of danger before
being reborn.  Your moving her from the pool and attempting to
revive her brought her out of danger into a position of
relative safety."

Buffy had remained silent, lost in thought, while the others
were discussing her changed nature.  The realization of what had
happened to her gave her a new perspective on the events of the
last two days.  It was evident that the mixture of personalities
caused by the addition of the spirit of another Slayer
threatened to unhinge her mind.  The sudden mood swings and
confusion she had experienced only this morning confirmed this
diagnosis.   She resolved to end the conflict once and for all.
The dominant personality of the new Slayer took over.  The old
Buffy was gone for good.

"Guys, you don't have to talk about me in the third person like
I'm not here," Buffy said, annoyed.  She fixed her steely gaze
on her Watcher.  "So, Giles, now you have two Slayers to watch
for the price of one.  You must be overjoyed.  I think I should
expect you to double your usefulness to me.  You can start by
telling me if this condition is permanent, or whether I will
return to my overly sweet and naive former self."  She already
knew the answer.

Giles avoided direct contact with Buffy's eyes as he gave his
reply.  "There is no way to revoke the calling of a Slayer.
I'm afraid, Buffy, that you'll simply have to get used to your
new persona, as will the rest of us."

"Buffy'll be all right, won't she?" Willow asked Giles.  He
hesitated to answer, so she turned to Buffy.  "I mean, you have
been acting pretty weird lately."

Buffy laughed.  "Don't worry, Will.  It may take a
while to get used to the new me, but I'm still Buffy, just a new
and improved version."

Willow wasn't so sure about that.  From what she had seen, this
'new version' of her friend didn't seem as caring or trustworthy
as the person who came to ask her for help so many months ago.
In fact, Willow was unsure whether the new Slayer would even be
her friend now if the old Slayer hadn't been.

"Well, now that that's been settled, I'm heading home for a
while."  Buffy started to leave the lab, then looked straight at
Xander, lovingly.  "Xander, meet you around 7 at Willow's house
to study, OK?"  He slowly nodded his head.  "Great."  Right
before she reached the door, Buffy turned around and stared hard
at Giles.  "Oh, I almost forgot.  Giles, if you don't get that
skeleton away from Angel by tomorrow, I'll simply have to do it
myself, and you wouldn't want that, would you?  Things might get
a little - messy,"  Buffy said with a disturbing grin.  "See you
later!"  She left the room in a hurry.

After a while, Giles sighed and shook his head.  "It appears
that I will have an even more trying time now with Buffy than
before.  I'd better ring Angel and tell him what has transpired.
Ms. Calendar, it's possible that I may need your assistance
again tonight, if Angel and I decide to move the Master's
skeleton once again.  Will you be available?"

"Are you sure you'll need me with Angel around?" asked Ms.
Calendar.

"I would appreciate your presence.  You've been an invaluable
help recently."  Giles nervously leafed through a large book.

"Very well then, at what time will the distinguished Watcher
require my services?" Ms. Calendar said facetiously.

"Sometime soon after dark, I imagine - 10:00 PM, perhaps?"

"I'll be there."  A knowing smile formed on Ms. Calendar's face.

"Thank you," Giles replied with a small smile of his own.

"Is there something we should do?"  Willow asked Giles,
indicating her and Xander.

"I think for the moment you should merely do what you have
already planned - study with Buffy tonight.  Watch her
carefully, and notify me if anything unusual occurs."

Giles watched as Xander and Willow left the computer lab.  He
hoped that Buffy's new temperament didn't damage the friendship
of the three young students.  *I fear she will need their help
even more in the future.*


Later that night, Xander arrived at Willow's house an hour
early, as they had decided.  He sniffed the air as he entered
the house.  "I hope your mother has created some
confectionery delights for us to munch on."

"Don't worry, Xander.  There's a new batch of chocolate chip
cookies with your name on them waiting in the kitchen."  The
words had barely left Willow's mouth when Xander dashed by her
in search of the desired food.

After a thoroughly enjoyable meal of cookies and milk, the two
lifelong friends retired to Willow's room to discuss the problem
that faced them.

"I don't see why you're so worried about Buffy, Will.  She's
been through worse things before.  Heck, she died, remember?
She's bound to be a bit wacky for a while.  I mean, sure she did
get a bit wigged when Giles mentioned Angel, but that's not
necessarily a bad thing.  Now that she knows what happened to
her, I'm sure she'll settle down into a semblance of normalcy."
Xander emphasized his point by flopping down hard on Willow's
bed.

"I'm not so sure, Xander.  Giles said she has a new personality
now, and I don't know if I like her new look.  She didn't even
acknowledge me when she left the school this afternoon.  You,
however, received a royal invitation to come over to MY house."
Willow slumped on the floor, looking hurt and tired.

Xander, meanwhile, put his hands behind his hand and leaned back
on the bed, pleased.  "That proves she's coming to her senses -
dumping Angel, and starting to notice me.  The old Harris charm
might take a while to work, but when it does - well, let's just
say the ladies leave satisfied."

Willow now was even more upset.  "You'd better watch out,
Xander.  She may be interested in you now, but who knows for how
long?  She just turned you down a few days ago, remember?  How
long before that happens again?"

Xander sat up from the bed and looked at Willow with a grin.
"Will, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous of
Buffy."

Willow avoided Xander's gaze.  "I'm not jealous, just concerned
about you.  I don't like to see you get hurt all the time."

Xander accepted Willow's denial with a nod, but he really did
know better.  Willow had a major crush on him.  He had known
ever since that awful day when he had been possessed by a hyena
and done terrible things to Willow and Buffy, not to mention
Herbert, the pig.  He didn't eat any pork for weeks.  Luckily,
neither Willow nor Buffy knew he remembered his actions.  Ever
since, he'd tried to douse Willow's fire by continually
mentioning his love for Buffy, but it hadn't worked.  Then, when
Buffy had turned him down, he thought that Willow would be there
for him, but she had turned him down as well.  It was then that
he discovered just how deeply Willow felt for him.
*Unfortunately, I just don't feel that way towards her.  I wish
she'd get the hint, and find somebody else to care about.  I
don't like to see HER hurt.*

Willow became more depressed.  "I'm tired, Xander.  Tired of
fighting for our lives, seeing our friends getting killed, and
accepting it as something normal.  At least Buffy was always
there to help and listen to me.  But now, even she's gone.  At
least, the Buffy that I knew as a friend is gone."   Willow
turned to Xander with teary eyes.  "I wish she had never come
here, Xander.  We could have had a normal life, with normal high
school problems and experiences.  Now we're all screwed up for
ever."  Willow burst into tears.

Xander quickly got off the bed and pulled Willow's sobbing body
close to him.  "Willow, Willow.  Pull yourself together.  Things
will be all right.  I don't like all the death and destruction
we've seen this year either, but we can't just close our eyes
and dream it away.  We have to face it, and part of that is
dealing with Buffy.  She hasn't changed that much, Will.  She's
still friends with us.  And if you ever need someone to talk to,
you know I'm always here - your oldest friend."  He looked
straight into her eyes, and saw the fear and apprehension in
them.  He hugged her closer.  "Now come on, Will.  Buffy'll be
here soon.  Don't forget, we have a test to study for."

Willow slowly stopped crying and moved away from Xander.  "I
guess I'll be OK.  You're right, I'll just have to deal with
living a life where witnessing death is a daily activity.  But
it's hard, Xander.  It's hard."  She stood up and looked in the
mirror.  "I look like a mess.  Would you mind waiting downstairs
while I straighten myself out?"

"No problem.  See you in a bit."   Xander left the bedroom and
went down to the living room.


Buffy emerged from the door of her house.  "Bye, mom!  I'll be
back by 11:00!"  It was a gorgeous evening in June.  A soft
breeze whirled through the trees.  The slowly sinking sun shone
a golden haze on the earth.  In a hour or so, the stars would
start to appear, little twinkles of light in the sky.

Buffy started to walk the mile and a half to Willow's house.
*Normal teenagers would think of love and romance on a night
like this.  Instead, I have to worry about biology and vampires
- especially that creep, Angel.  I still can't believe Giles
trusts him.  He's obviously playing us all for fools.  At least
I see that now.  It makes me sick to think how much time I
wasted, pining over that bloodsucker.  I should have listened to
Xander all along.*

Xander.  Suddenly that name made her body tingle like Angel's
used to.  *How could I have ignored him all this time?  Xander
always was the one that really cared for me.  How many times did
he leave little hints about his feelings for me that I ignored
and rejected?  I guess I was worried about hurting Willow's
feelings too much if I went out with Xander.  That, and the fact
that Angel seemed to have some sort of spell over me.*

*Oh, well.  All that is behind me.  I realize now that Xander is
the only one I could be with.  I mean, he risked his life for me
and saved my own.  What greater love is there than that?  Willow
will just have to find somebody else to worship from afar.
Xander has been taken.*

Buffy skipped merrily down the sidewalk, all other thoughts
driven from her mind.  She grinned.  *Xander is going to have a
good time tonight.*

End of part 3

Feedback requested!




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Matthew Wahoske" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC:  A Fresh Start (4/?)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 23:39:25 -0500

TITLE: A Fresh Start (4/?)
AUTHOR: Matthew J. Wahoske
EMAIL: [e-mail]
DISTRIBUTION: Anya only.  All others ask permission.
RATING: PG.
SYNOPSIS:  Buffy's not quite herself after being resurrected.
After almost staking Angel at the Spring Fling, the rest of the
night passes in a blur.  Now it's the Monday of finals week, and
Buffy goes off to get help from Giles (now located in the
computer lab), with Xander following behind.  In the lab, she
learns that Giles and Ms. Calendar have given the Master's
skeleton to Angel for safe keeping.  She is incensed at this,
when Ms. Calendar tells the others that Brother Luca has sent a
new prophecy that details how Buffy now has the powers of two
slayers.  The old Buffy is gone forever, replaced by a new
persona.  Willow is apprehensive about this, while Xander tries
to reassure her.  Buffy heads off to Willow's to study and also
to meet her new love, Xander.
SPOILERS:  "The Pack", "Angel", and "Prophecy Girl" in
particular.  The whole first season, in general.
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon's fertile mind, Mutant Enemy, 20th
Century Fox, and Warner Bros. own these characters, not me.


Xander was still waiting for Willow to emerge from her room when
the doorbell rang.  "I'll get it, Will.  It's probably Buffy,"
Xander shouted up the stairs.

He opened the door.  Buffy had a quirky smile on her face.
"Hello, Xander.  You know, I've been thinking about you all
afternoon," she said, flirtatiously.  "I must say, you're
looking mighty fine."  She came into the room, keeping her eyes
on Xander.

*I didn't know my usual mix and match outfit had such an effect
upon her.*  "You're looking pretty good yourself, Buff."  That
she did, in her tank top and patented shorter than short skirt.
"Glad to see you're feeling better now."

"Xander, I feel better than I've ever felt before.  Know why?
Because I've finally found someone who really cares about me,
makes me completely happy, and isn't an undead monster."  Buffy
looked up, put her arms around Xander, and gave him a long
passionate kiss.  Xander didn't know what to think, but he
wasn't about to do anything that might stop Buffy's display of
emotion.  He embraced Buffy and held her tightly.

It was at this moment that Willow came into the room.  She
stared incredulously at the scene unfolding before her.  A tear
started to roll down her cheek.  *No, Willow Rosenberg, you will
not let Buffy see you cry and give her that satisfaction.
Instead, you will simply confront her with dignity and
civility.*  "You move pretty quickly when you want something,
don't you, Buffy?"  Xander and Buffy quickly separated as they
noticed Willow's presence.

Buffy regained her composure.  "Yeah, Will.  I don't believe in
wasting my time by being too scared to express my feelings.  You
know my philosophy:  Seize the moment, remember?  Maybe you
should have followed it."

*Maybe I should have.*  Willow decided, there and then, to quit
hiding her love for Xander.  *It's gotten me nowhere and led to
this.*  "Well, Buffy, maybe there's still time to do just that."

She looked at Xander with an ultimate expression of love and
sadness.  "Xander, there's something you should know."

*Oh, boy,* thought Xander.  *Here it comes.  Just what I was
hoping I wouldn't have to face.*

"Xander, I love you.  I've loved you for as long as I can
remember.  I know I should have told you this long ago, but I
was so worried that you wouldn't take me seriously and consider
it a joke that I kept my thoughts hidden from you."  Willow
started to walk slowly towards Xander.  "But I can't hide them
any longer.  I need to know what you think, who you really
love."  She now stood directly in front of him, her eyes fixed
on his.  "So, Xander, who's your choice?  Me or Buffy?"

*God, how can I answer her without hurting her?  I can't.  How
do I explain that I don't love her the way I love Buffy?*
Xander agonized over the decision.  *I guess the only fair thing
to do is tell her the truth.*  He sighed and looked meaningfully
at Buffy.  She understood and left the room, going into the
kitchen.  "Willow, you know that I'm your best friend, and I
wouldn't ever do anything to hurt you, but I'm afraid I just
don't love you the same way that you love me - the way that I
love Buffy.  I can't explain it - I just know that when I feel
complete when she's around."

He leaned closer to Willow.  "I can't say I particularly like
the way Buffy's been acting recently, but I also know that I'll
always stick by her - whatever happens.  I guess that's what
love's all about.  I'm sorry that I can't give you what you
deserve - someone who will love you without a thought for
himself, living only for you."

Willow looked deeply into Xander's eyes, tears starting to flow
down her cheeks.  "Xander, I'm not sure that someone even
exists."

Xander held her as he did just an hour before in her bedroom,
giving her a caring hug.  "And I'm sure that there is such a
person.  There has to be for someone as special as you.  I
only wish for your sake that I was that person."  The embrace
lasted for only a moment, but for Willow it seemed like an
eternity had passed, and her dreams had gone with it.


The biology test was finally over.  For Xander and Buffy, it had
not gone well.  Last night hadn't provided much in the way of
needed information.  After an awkward, unproductive hour of
studying, the group had decided to call it a night.

Willow hadn't felt much like studying anyway, especially when
most of the benefit would go to Xander and Buffy, neither of
whom were high on her best friend list at the moment.  True,
Buffy had belatedly expressed sympathy for Willow's plight, but
that hadn't really changed matters any.  Willow had performed
fairly well on the test - not up to her usual standards, but
good enough to easily secure at worst an A-.

As Xander and Buffy moved off to the computer lab in a daze,
Willow stayed behind.  *Who needs me around anymore?  I'm sure
Ms. Summers and her clueless companion won't even notice I'm
missing.  Even Giles has Ms. Calendar to hack the computer
system for him now.  I might as well face the facts; I can't be
of use to anyone around here.*  Willow moved slowly down the
corridor, heading for the exit.  *At least, I won't have to
worry about facing any more monsters.  I can return to being the
typical unsuspecting high school student.*  As much as she
wanted it to, the thought failed to cheer her up.

Xander and Buffy burst through the door of the lab.  Giles was
alone, studying another of his seemingly endless supply of
ancient texts.  "Hey Giles," Buffy beckoned, "do you have any
new doom and gloom prophecies that will make us forget the
strange alien world of biology?"

"I take it that the exam did not proceed as well as you hoped?"
Giles looked at the pair with a searching look.  "Didn't Willow
provide you two with sufficient information to at least appear
to have some knowledge of the required subject?"  The mention of
Willow gave Xander a guilty feeling, something Giles easily
noticed.  "Where is she anyway?  I was hoping she could look up
a particularly interesting reference to the Anointed One that I
found overnight."

Buffy spoke up.  "Well, you see, Giles, Willow has sort of been
avoiding us this morning, probably because Xander and I have
decided to become a couple."  She beamed at Xander and held him
close.  Xander weakly smiled back.  "After she gets over it, I
imagine she'll return to the group.  If not, it's her loss.  If
she doesn't want to be involved in saving the world anymore,
that's just too bad."

Giles was amazed to hear Buffy speak so casually about Willow's
absence.  *The change in Buffy's persona must be more pronounced
than I thought.*  "I hope you're right.  I'd hate to lose her
researching ability."  *And her pleasant smile.*  "Is there
anything else you need?  I'm afraid I don't have any 'doom and
gloom' prophecies to deliver."  Giles started to return to his
reading.

"As a matter of fact, Giles, there is."  Buffy now spoke with
authority and sternly faced her Watcher.  "There's the little
matter of the Master's skeleton.  I assume you retrieved it from
our so-called vampire friend, Angel?  If not, you'd better
explain why and fast.  After that test, I don't have much
patience left."

Giles sighed and looked up at the Slayer.  "Don't worry, Buffy.
I've dealt with the matter.  The Master's skeleton is now a
prominent part of my home furnishing.  I wouldn't bother about
Angel, either.  He's likely to keep some distance from you now
after what happened at the dance."  Giles looked back at his
book.  *There's not much chance of that happening.  Even after I
urged him to leave, he refused and promised to secretly watch
over my house at night.  I'd better try to keep Buffy unaware,
however, if it's possible.*

Buffy seemed satisfied and motioned to Xander to leave.  "You're
right, Giles.  I won't worry.  I doubt he'll still be around to
bother us - after tonight."  Flashing a quick smile, she left
with Xander in tow.

Giles only caught a glimpse of them as they left.  *I suppose
I'll have to worry for you, then.*


Xander rushed to catch up with Buffy as she left the school.
"Hey, Buff.  What did you mean back there?  Are you going after
Angel tonight?  'Cause if you are, I'd like to go with you."
*Mostly to make sure Buffy doesn't get into too much trouble
without anyone there to help.*  "You know, Angel's reputation
says he's pretty tough to take down."

Buffy stopped and laughed.  "And I suppose I'm a pushover.
Remember, dear, I have the powers of two Slayers now.  I think I
can handle one lousy vampire, even if he is the most annoying
creature on earth.  I don't think I'll need your help.  I love
you, Xander, but you'd only get in the way.  I wouldn't want to
see you get hurt."  She started on her way again.

"You sure about this?  Don't forget, couples who slay together
stay together,"  Xander persisted.

Once again, Buffy stopped.  This time she looked angrily at
Xander.  "Listen, darling, you'd better do what I say.  I'm the
Slayer, not you, and if I don't want you around to bother me,
you'd best not be there, or else you might regret it,
understand?"  She smiled.  "Besides, I need you to be there for
me after the slaying, so I can - relax."  She snuggled close to
Xander.

As they walked down the street together, Xander was deep in
thought.  *Willow was right.  This new Buffy is a nut case.  I
can't leave her, though.  Who knows what will happen tonight if
she goes out in this condition?  I'd better follow her at a
discreet distance.*


The dark, cloudy night perfectly suited Willow's mood.  She
needed to walk off the feelings of depression she felt, so after
the late supper provided by her family, she had decided to go
outside.  Although she knew the danger that the streets of
Sunnydale presented to the unwary at night, Willow reasoned that
after closing the Hellmouth and killing their leader, any
vampires left wouldn't dare come out for at least a few weeks.
That hadn't stopped her from bringing along a stake and some
holy water, just in case.

She felt herself drawn to the cemetery, specifically to the
mausoleum that had been the start of her association with the
undead.  She needed to close this chapter of her life by facing
her fears, before she could forget everything that involved
Buffy and the havoc that had entered her previously mundane
existence.

As she approached the forbidding tomb, she was too preoccupied
to notice the slight movement that followed her own.  She never
saw the vampire until it was already upon her.


End of part 4.

Feedback requested!




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Xander (1/3)
Date: 04 Sep 1997 07:53:37 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Xander
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        Xander was bored.  Truly, deeply, sincerely bored.  Video games
lost their interest after the first week or so.  Trying to convince his
parents that he really needed a car of his own killed a few days.  Hitting
the blockbusters was a way to spend afternoons a couple times a week.  He'd
done the part time job bit over spring break, working in Buffy's mother's
gallery, and really didn't want to do that again.
        Why was it that he never remembered how boring summer was when he
was in school?
        That was when he had his Truly Brilliant Idea:  Camping trip.  A
week out in the wilderness, man against nature.  Well, men against nature.
He didn't want to go alone.  So he called up Wendell and Pete and Josh and
told them of his Truly Brilliant Idea.  Since they were as bored as he was,
they went for it.
        Planning took care of a week.  They needed tents, backpacks, hiking
shoes, food, insect repellent.... His mother asked him if he was planning
the Normandy Invasion.  A phone call from Willow barely stirred the edge of
his interest.  The Trip was all.
        Xander's mom drove the four boys to a popular camp site in the
nearby Santa Trista mountains.  "I'll be here on Friday to pick you up,
right?" she asked anxiously.
        "Sure, Mom," Xander said, hefting his backpack.
        "Be careful!  Watch out for snakes!  And scorpions!  A scorpion
sting could kill you!"
        "Actually, Mrs. Harris, out of ten species of scorpions that live
in the Southwest, only one kind is of any danger to humans, and that only
to children and the elderly--"
        Xander slapped a hand over Wendell's mouth.  "We'll be careful,
Mom.  Promise.  Bye now."
        Finally, the only thing that remained of parental worry and fussing
was a dust cloud in the distance.  The four boys looked at each other.
"Okay, now what?" Pete asked.
        "Um... we start walking, right?  I mean, there are a lot of trails
around here," Josh turned in a slow circle.  The sun was beating down on
them intensely, and the wind was blowing grit into their eyes.
        "Well, we can't just stand here," Xander said finally.  At random,
he picked a trail.  "Okay, we're going that way."
        Slowly, the four boys shouldered their packs and set off into the
vast reaches of uncharted wilderness.
********
        "Why did we decide to do this, again?" Josh panted.  "Hold on, I've
got to stop."
        "Come on," Xander urged, bouncing from one foot to the other.  The
diffuse light under the trees was cool, and they walked on a cushion of
pine needles.  "Think of it:  Making it in the great outdoors, meeting
Nature on her own terms.  We're strong!  We're proud!"
        "I'm getting a blister!" Pete whined.
        "Hey, you were the one who wanted to go fishing, right?"
        "We've been walking for three hours.  Can't we make camp?" Josh
asked, sagging against an equally tired looking pine.
        "What, now you want to wuss out on me?" Xander asked.
        Josh and Xander started to go toe-to-toe.  Wendell intervened.
"Hey!  Let's walk another hour, okay?  If we hit a stream before then,
we'll stop.  We'll need more water by tomorrow anyway.  If we don't hit a
stream, we'll camp there, and go looking for water in the morning."
        Josh looked like he badly wanted to take a swing, but shrugged and
said, "Okay."
        "Fine by me," Xander said, reeling his chin back in.
        Luckily for Xander's chin, Josh's temper and Pete's blisters, they
found a beautiful clear stream in less than fifteen minutes.  A small
clearing sat near the bank, and the four boys set up camp for the duration.
There was a rock formation a half-mile away for climbing, the stream for
fishing and swimming, and the woods to wander in.  The perfect campsite.
        Tempers restored, the boys stripped down to their shorts and had a
noisy water fight before pulling out their packed rations.  "Tomorrow,
fresh fish!" Pete bragged.
        "Yeah, yeah, I'll believe it when I see it," Xander dead-panned.
Pete threw pine needles at him.
        They carefully cleared ground for a fire, circling it with rocks,
gathering kindling.  "Guess all those years as boy scouts paid off, huh?"
asked Wendell.
        "Remember Troop Leader Bently?" Josh snickered.
        "Yeah.  How did he become a troop leader?  His knot was a little
less than half-hitched.  His piece of wood was half-whittled.  His merit
badge had a few demerits.  His--"
        "We get the point, Xander," Wendell cut him off.  "At least he
taught us the rudiments of cooking on the trail."  Wendell tossed Xander
the pot and a can of beans.  "And, if I remember correctly, you were his
prize student."
        "Oh, man," Xander muttered.  "One tuna casserole, and I'm the King
of Home Ec for life..."
        Exhausted, the guys crashed early, arraigning their sleeping bags
around the banked fire.  Xander woke only once during the night, to hear
Wendell muttering in his sleep, "Get them off me!  Get them off me!"
        ~Man, he's remembering the spiders,~ Xander thought with a little
shudder.  It hadn't taken him, Buffy, Willow and Giles long to figure out
that only the people present in Billy's hospital room when the little
dreamweaver woke up remembered the nightmares that had come true.  Which
was a vast comfort to Xander, but weird now, since he knew exactly what
Wendell was dreaming about.
        "Just hope the dream doesn't come true," Xander murmured sleepily,
dropping easily back asleep.
********
        "*That's* your big catch?" Josh hooted with laughter.  In the
slanting, setting sun, the string of three goldfish-sized fish that Pete
held up glimmered with tiny sparks of silver.  "Oh, yeah, I can see that
you're going to feed us.  Wow, you think we'll be able to eat all that?"
        "Josh, you're being a butt-head," Xander said mildly.  "Shut up."
        Pete looked at his catch.  "I think we scared away all the fish
when we went swimming.  Or maybe it was that I didn't start until noon.
Aren't you supposed to fish in the morning?"
        Wendell clapped Pete on the shoulder.  "So get up early tomorrow
and fish before we disturb the fishes."
        Pete's troubled face cleared.  "Yeah.  Good idea."
        Josh pulled out a radio and popped in the demo tape for a band that
played in the Bronze, and rock floated through the pine trees.  Twilight
slid into full dark, but none of the boys was as tired as they had been the
day before.
        "You know what we need?" Wendell asked, tossing another stick on
the fire.
        "Marshmallows?" Josh asked.
        "Yeah, marshmallows.  And chocolate and graham crackers.  'Smores!"
Pete enthused.
        Xander groaned and turned over onto his stomach, staring into the
fire.  "Torture me, why don't you?  Here we are, camping, and not a 'smore
in sight."
        Silence reigned for a few moments, until Wendell said in a dark and
spooky voice, "Then how about ghost stories?"
        Pete sat up.  "Cool!  Yeah!"
        "Who starts?" Josh asked.
        "We'll tell one every night," Wendell improvised.  "And whoever's
is the scariest, wins.  And since I thought up this contest, I'll go
first."
        The other boys settled back down, drowsing in the firelight, and
waited to be scared.
        "Okay, so there was this guy and girl.  And they went out to a
quiet hill to make out.  And while they were there, they heard this report
on the radio that this guy had escaped from the Correctional Facility, and
that everyone should be inside tonight, because--"
        "Aw, man, I know this one," Josh groaned.
        "Shut up," Wendell told him calmly.  "Let me tell it.  Anyway, this
guy was really scary.  He apparently had Hannibal Lecter as a role model.
He had a particular fondness for eyeballs.  In his trial, he said they were
the tenderest part of the human body.  When he was in jail, the other
inmates were really freaked by the fact that he was a cannibal, and one of
them cut off his hand and pretended to eat it.  So ever since then, this
guy had worn a hook on his arm.  And he sharpens it regularly, to a
gleaming silver point.  And he used it to tear the guy who cut his hand off
to pieces.
        "So this guy and girl hear about this guy on the radio, and she
wants to book.  Especially since the guard there was found in pieces --
with his eyeballs missing.  The guy was just getting lucky, so he tries to
talk her out of it.  'What? Like he's going to come all this way and bother
us? Yeah, right.'  She's really scared.  'I think we should go now.'"
        The three other boys snickered softly at Wendell's sudden,
trembling falsetto for the girl's voice, but settled quickly back into
listening mode, caught by the story and Wendell's storyteller's cadence.
        "But she keeps thinking that she hears something, sees something.
A shadow.  A footstep.  She's really wigging out now.  Finally, the guy
gave up, and started the engine.  The car wouldn't move for a second -- it
was like they were caught on something.  He started getting freaked and
floored it, and after a moment, they shot out of there.  He drives her
home, and she's shaking too hard to get out of the car, so he gets out and
goes around to her side to let her out."
        Wendell paused dramatically.  "And there was a bloody hook on the
door handle, sharpened to a gleaming silver point."
        "WHOOOOOOO!"
        "Arrrrrgh!" Pete screamed, and dived under his sleeping bag.  A few
minutes later he came back out, sheepishly grinning at his friends who were
howling with laughter.  "It was an owl.  I knew that."
        "I'm going tomorrow," Josh stated.
        "If you think you can top that one," Wendell told him.
        "Yeah, I've got a good one my dad told me.  No prob.  No, wait, I
wanna go last."
        "I'll tell one tomorrow night," Pete volunteered.
        "Fine by me," Wendell shrugged.  "You're still not going to be able
to top mine."
        "Will to," Josh taunted.
        "Will not."
        "Will to!"
        "Will not!"
        "Boys!" Xander shouted.  "Can we please pretend we're not eight
years old?"
        A few minutes later, all four of them settled down to sleep.  This
time, Xander didn't wake to hear if Wendell had any nightmares about
spiders.
        He did wake up when Pete rose just before dawn to try for a better
catch.  Yawning, he untangled himself from his sleeping bag and went to
take care of certain morning necessities.  Still sleepy, he decided to head
back to bed when the scent of freshly-cut wood accosted him.
        Confused, he looked around.  They hadn't cut any wood for their
fires.  There was more than enough deadfall, and they wouldn't be able to
dry out enough live wood in the time they were there to make it worth the
effort.
        After a moment, he saw which tree was releasing the scent.  On the
dark bark, he could see deep, deep gouges, the wounds showing white and
clean.  Freshly made.
        And they looked like they had been made by a hook, sharpened to a
gleaming silver point.
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~
Continued in Part 2...

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Xander (3/3)
Date: 04 Sep 1997 07:54:07 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Xander
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        He stared at the small mound of turned earth.  He'd found the
possum before anyone else was up, and buried it before the others could see
it.  He didn't know if La Charona's ax or Hook Guy's slicer/dicer had done
the work, but it had the same effect.  Luckily, Miranda didn't come
equipped with sharp objects, although he'd rather not meet a walking
one-armed decomposing corpse, if it was all the same.
        "Okay, now what do I do?" he asked the silent woods.  They didn't
have an answer for him.  "You know, when all this weird stuff started
happening," he said conversationally to a pinecone, "I pretty much knew
what to do.  Sic Buffy on it.  I mean, she's the Slayer, she's good at
fighting supernatural bad guys.  But we're miles from anywhere, my mom's
not going to be picking us up for another two days, and Buffy's in LA.
So... that leaves me.  Me, Xander, fighting the forces of evil."  He would
have thought he'd feel strong and mighty at the thought.  Xander, facing
down the bad guys.
        Instead, he was scared to death.
        Of course, he had been before.  When he followed Buffy down into
the electrical tunnel to rescue Jesse.  When he and Willow and Giles had
gone into the Bronze to rescue everyone from the Harvest.  When he and
Buffy had gone to rescue Willow from the demon in a tin can.  When he and
Angel had gone down to rescue Buffy from the Master.
        "Of course, there's one word that keeps popping up in each one of
those examples," Xander continued to the sympathetic pinecone.  "'And.'
There was always someone else along for the ride.  Geeze, how does Buffy
handle this on her own all the time?"
        Options.  He needed options.  They could fight.  That was his gut
instinct.  Bad things attack you, you fight back.  Clean, simple, and it
didn't take too much planning.  Except that was iffy when you were fighting
things that all seemed to be back-from-the-dead things.  *Could* they die?
        Xander started pacing through the woods, keeping an eye out for
ghoulies and ghosties, but they seemed to generally be nocturnal creatures.
They had been created by stories, old stories repeated time and time
again, told by kids around a campfire.
        Could they be made to leave the same way?
        By the time it started getting dark, Xander though he knew what he
was going to do.  He collected massive amounts of firewood, to keep the
fire high and bright.  He kept a few sturdy sticks handy, in case
hand-to-hand combat actually happened.  Wendell and Pete showed up on time
for dinner.
        But neither of them had seen Josh.
        "I think he went to the rocks," Pete said, pointing at the cliffs
that were too tempting for a teenage boy to ignore.
        "We all agreed that we wouldn't go wandering after dark," Xander
argued.  Impatiently, he opened a backpack and yanked out a fluorescent
lantern.
        "Hey, Xander, chill."  Wendell put his hand on Xander's arm.
"Maybe he just forgot.  You know Josh, he may have decided to blow us off
and keep climbing just because he wanted to.  Hell, he may be hiding in the
trees listening to us and laughing his ass off."
        Xander switched on the lantern, cutting a stream of blue-white
light through the darkening woods.  "You two stay here, okay?  By the fire.
I'm going to go look for him."
        "Xander... you think there's something out there?"  Pete's
newly-baritone voice trembled into treble for a few notes.
        Xander considered for a moment.  "Nah," he lied.  "But there might
be... um, bears.  Yeah.  Or mountain lions.  Better stay by the fire."
        Five minutes later, he was wishing himself back with Wendell and
Pete.  It was *dark* at night.  And really, really quiet.  So quiet, you'd
think you'd hear someone sneaking up behind you really easily -- unless, of
course, it was a ghost and could glide over the crackling pine needles.
"Josh?" Xander croaked out.  He cleared his throat and tried again.
"Josh!"  It was hard to shout in that silence, hard to attract attention in
the night.  But Xander gripped his makeshift club tighter and headed off to
the rocks.
        There didn't seem to be anyone there, but Xander persisted,
clambering around, shining his light into various crevices.  "Josh?" he
called, his voice bouncing oddly off the rocks, reflected and refracted
around him.
        ~One more.  One more little cave, one more minute.  Then I'm
heading back and Josh can just find his own way--~
        "Aaagh!" he and Josh shrieked at once.  The light from the lantern
caught Josh full in the eyes from where he had been cowering in the tiny
depression in the rock, and the glitter had startled Xander.  Xander nearly
lost his balance and tumbled backwards.
        "Man, what are you doing here?" Xander snapped, furious and scared,
and *more* furious because he was scared.
        "Sssssssh!" Josh hissed.  "He's out there!"
        "So are you, Josh.  Come on."
        "No!  He's out there, I heard him.  He was calling my name."
        "That was me," Xander said patiently.  "Come on, we'll be safer by
the fire."
        "I'm telling you, I saw him.  Awhile ago.  How long have you been here?"
        Xander shrugged.  "I didn't check my watch.  Five minutes, maybe."
        "I saw him before that.  Right after the sun went down.  He was big
-- huge, seven feet tall and built like a linebacker.  And he...."  Josh
gulped.  "He had a hook on one of his hands."
        Xander felt a shiver of fear work its way down his body from his
scalp to his toes.  ~This is so very, very, majorly bad...~  "Josh, we
can't stay here.  We've got to get back to the fire.  To Wendell and Pete.
We're not safe up here."
        "You believe me?" Josh said gratefully.
        "Yeah.  Yeah, man, I believe you.  Come on, let's go."
********
        By the time they got back to the camp site, Josh had recovered
completely from his brief bout with humility.  "What, you thought I really
saw some guy with silverware as an appendage?"  He snickered at the
thought.  "Get real, Xander!"
        "Weirder things have been known to happen," Xander muttered.
        Pete had given in to the inevitable and had already cooked dinner,
a largely inedible meal of burned beans and charred trout.  "It took you
guys too long to come back," he said sheepishly.
        Josh leaned back on his sleeping bag and sighed, crossing his arms
behind his head and staring up at the stars.  "Aaaaaah.  Tomorrow --
civilization!  A Big Mac!"
        "Running water," Pete chimed in.
        "TV," Wendell contributed.
        "Nintendo!" Pete, Wendell and Josh chorused.
        "Yeah, yeah.  You guys are a bunch of wimps.  You don't have any
appreciation for meeting Mother Nature on her own terms."  Xander tried to
sound noble, but flush toilets were looking more and more attractive.  Not
to mention that Men in Black was opening soon...
        However, they still had this little problem to clear up.
Hopefully, they would be safe for the night.  The fire had enough wood to
burn until morning, and they would head out in daylight.
        But the next group of campers who came up there would get to face
Hook Guy, Hatchet Lady and Putrefying Polly.  Not a good scene.
        "Okay, my turn to tell a story."  Xander paused for a moment to
listen.  There wasn't any sound other than the snap of the fire and the
murmurs of the three other guys.  Even the wind seemed to have stilled.  He
mentally crossed fingers and toes in the hopes that his idea would work --
~Hey, I'm not Knowledge Man, that's Giles's job!~ -- and dove in.
        "You know that bend in the road, near the river back in town?  You
know how it's got guard rails up and reflectors and everything?  Well, one
night, this truck driver was going through there, and he almost runs over
this girl who's standing on the side of the road."
        There was a loud *snap* of a twig, out in the forest beyond them,
as though a large man had shifted his weight, waiting.  A point of light
glanced off something in that direction, gleaming silver in the shadows.
Xander gulped and continued.  "It's pouring rain, thunder and lightning and
everything.  So, this girl flags him down.  She's wearing a long, white
dress, and she's soaking wet..."  ~Buffy in a long white dress, face down
in the pool, not breathing, not moving, not *living*...~  "...and she says
that her boyfriend ran his car into the river on the way to the prom.  He's
hurt really bad, and she needs a ride back to town to call the police.  The
truck driver tries to call in the accident on his radio, but he gets
nothing but static.  Figures it's the lightning, and doesn't worry about
it."
        A long shriek echoed through the night, a woman's cry, flavored
with absolute insanity.  "What was that?" Pete asked fearfully.
        "A mountain lion or something," Wendell said calmly.
        "Oh.  Okay.  Go on, Xander."
        Hidden in shadows, Xander's hands clenched and unclenched.  Sweat
that the fire wasn't responsible for beaded his forehead.  "So, ah, so he
takes her to her parents' house, like she asks him to.  He's involved with
setting the brake and everything, and when he looks up -- she's gone.
Nothing there but a wet spot on the seat and a silk scarf."
        ~Swish-THUMP.  Swish-THUMP.~
        Xander started talking faster.  "The guy thinks that she left the
cab when he wasn't looking, forgetting her scarf.  So he gets out and goes
to the front door.  An older guy answers it, and the truck driver tells him
that the girl left her scarf in his truck.  'Yes, this is my daughter's
scarf,' the older guy says, very sadly.  'She died when her boyfriend
crashed his car into the river on the way to the prom, twelve years ago.'"
        Xander paused and took a deep breath.  This was the important part.
"You see, the things that don't belong in this world sometimes wander over
into our world.  But when their time is up, they disappear -- poof -- into
thin air.  They have no power to harm anyone here.  They're not a part of
our world, and they go away."
        Nothing.  Silence.  No sound from the woods.  Nothing at all.
        "That was okay," Wendell said.  "But you could've have picked a
scarier one."
        "That ending part was weird," Josh complained.  "It ruined the
whole story."
        "I think Wendell's was best," Pete said, casting his vote.
        "Hey, *mine* was the best!  You had nightmares about it, remember?"
        "Did not!"
        "Did to!"
        "Did not!"
        Xander settled down to sleep, listening to Pete and Josh bicker.
And slept dreamlessly.
********
        Just before dawn, Xander woke up.  He packed all his gear, grabbed
some raisins out of the dwindling rations, and went to check out the
surrounding area.
        There were no new marks on the trees, no mutilated animals, no
furrows dug by a dragging foot.  Just quiet, and stillness, and the breath
of the forest.  Surrounded by the whisper of the wind, the scent of sap and
leaves and earth, Xander smiled.  "Way to go, dude."
********
        "So how was the trip?" Xander's mom asked as the four boys piled
into her station wagon.
        "Way cool, Mrs. Harris," Wendell grinned.
        "Yeah, I caught a lot of fish," Pete bragged.
        "Me, big man, lord of the forest."  Josh beat his chest with his fists.
        "Oh, man, we are *not* letting you see George of the Jungle,"
Wendell groaned.
        "Xander?  You're awfully quiet.  Didn't you have a good time?"
        By long practice, Xander was able to gracefully duck his mother's
fussing hand over his hair.  "Sure.  It was cool."
        "'It was cool'?  That's all you can say?  You didn't enjoy yourself?"
        "Yeah, I did."  Dawning understanding appeared in Xander's voice.
"I really did."
        "Well, good."  Xander's mom smiled at him and started the engine.
        "And *I* won the ghost story telling contest," Josh bragged.
        "Did not."
        "Did too!"
        "Did not..."

THE END
********************************
Special thanks on this one go to my future roomie Celli and Val, who
supplied me with the ghost stories.  Val even dug out her copy of Women Who
Run With Wolves to get me a fabulous version of La Llorena... <g>
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Xander (2/3)
Date: 04 Sep 1997 07:54:02 -0700

What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Xander
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        "I caught something!  I caught something!!!"  Pete came running
from the river, a large silver trout flopping in his hands.  He held it out
proudly to the three boys gathered at the campsite.
        "Wow.  That's some maximum fish, Pete," Wendell said admiringly.
        "Yeah.  That's a lot of food."  Josh's praise was somewhat
grudging, but honest.
        "We've got a pan, we can fry it.  It should feed all of us," Xander
said.
        "One question," Wendell said.  "Who's gonna clean it?"
        Pete looked at Josh.  Josh looked at Xander.  Xander looked at Wendell.
        Josh, Xander, and Wendell looked at Pete.  Pete backed off, his
prize still clutched in his grasp.  "Uh-uh.  No way.  *I* caught it, one of
*you* clean it."
        "Nope."
        "No way."
        "Thanks, but *not*!  I'm not that hungry for fresh fish."
        Pete sighed in resignation.  "Okay, fine.  Give me the knife."
        Two hours later, the somewhat tattered filets of Pete's trout were
cooked and consumed.  The sun was down, the stars shining through the
trees.  The wind rustled the pine needles, making it seem as though they
were surrounded by voices speaking just under the level of their hearing.
        It was a night made for ghost stories.
        "Pete?  You're up.  What story are you going to tell us?"
        Pete poked the fire slightly, sending a shower of sparks into the
air.  "I don't know that many," he hedged.
        "You've got to know *some*," Josh protested.
        "Yeah, there's this one... it's about this girl.  Her name's
Miranda, and she's a babe.  Really gorgeous, long blond hair, blue eyes.
The only thing wrong with her is that she's missing an arm."
        "Eeew," Wendell said.
        Pete flashed him a grin and continued.  "But her family's really
rich, you see, and they could afford to have one made for her.  And they
made it out of solid gold.  Anyway, her family dies, and she inherits all
the money.  And this guy marries her.  She thinks he married her for love,
but he just wants all her money.  But she's got control of the money.  So
-- he kills her."
        Pete drew a line across his neck with a finger and made a slicing
sound.  "So he gets all her money and he has a blast.  But he spends it
really fast, and needs more.  Then he remembers... the arm.  They buried
the golden arm with her.  That much gold... that would get him a lot of
cash, real fast."
        Getting into the rhythm of the story, Pete continued, "So one
night, he goes out to the graveyard, just him, 'cause he doesn't want
anyone to know what he was doing.  And he digs up Miranda's coffin, and
opens it, and pulls the arm out of the dress she was buried in.  And her
corpse is all gross, you know, decomposing and smelly.  He closed up the
coffin real fast and reburies it.  Then he melts down the arm and sells the
gold, and he's living fine again.
        "One night, he's drunk and alone in his house, when he hears
footsteps.  Sort of 'swish-THUMP,' like the Mummy.  He thinks he's just
imagining it, but it comes again.  'Swish-THUMP.'  'Who's there?' he shouts
out, but no one answers.  'Swish-THUMP.'  Then he sees the silhouette of a
woman in the window, and thinks it's a chick that followed him home.  So he
opens the door.
        "And it's Miranda.  Her face is all falling off of the bones and
she's got black moss in her hair.  Her body's really stiff, which was why
she was dragging one leg.  So she comes into the house, and the guy
stumbles back, really scared.  He's got to convince her that he didn't
steal her arm, that he was in love with her.  So he sort of stutters out,
'Miranda, my love, what has happened to your beautiful golden hair?'"
        Pete dropped his voice to a hoarse grind.  "'All withered and
wasted away.'
        "'But Miranda, my love, what has happened to your lovely sky-blue eyes?'
        "All withered and wasted away.'
        "And Miranda, my love, what has happened to your clear sweet voice?'
        Pete paused briefly to cough, the rough voice playing havoc with
his throat.  "'All withered and wasted away.'
        "Now, this guy is calming down, because she hasn't gotten any
closer to him.  He figures that she doesn't know who took her arm.  So he
asks her, 'But... but, Miranda, my love, what has happened to your
beautiful golden arm?'
        "'YOU HAVE IT!'"
        With a fine sense of showmanship, Pete tossed a big chunk of wood
onto the fire as he shouted Miranda's last words.  The fire flared up
brightly, driving the other boys back.  When it settled back into merrily
crackling again, the three of them were still breathing hard.
        "Wow," Xander said.  "I've heard that story a hundred times before,
but that was really good."
        "Thanks," Pete said modestly.
        "Yeah," Wendell agreed.  "So, how gross did she look...?"
        Wendell didn't dream again that night.  Xander knew that for a
fact, because he woke several times during the night.
        Each time hearing the "swish-THUMP" of a corpse's footsteps.
********
        The day passed quietly enough.  Wendell spent it out in the woods,
finding creatures that would have given Willow serious wig.  Josh tried to
build a lean-to by weaving together branches, and by the end of the day
proudly showed off his lopsided wall.  Pete left his early-morning catch in
a basket in the river to keep cool, and went rock climbing.
        And Xander tried to convince himself that no way, no how had he
seen what he thought he saw.  It was a bear, or something, sharpening its
claws on the tree.  Okay, so it was sharpening *a* claw on a tree.
        It alarmed him that a bear was more comforting than the alternative.
        And he made up the dragging footsteps he'd heard the night before.
Power of suggestion, or something.  No way he heard Miranda wandering
through the wood.  Nuh-huh.  And there had to be an explanation for the
furrows dug in the blanket of pine needles carpeting the forest floor.
        That night, when the fire was dying down and they were bunked out
for sleep, Josh claimed his turn.  "I don't wanna wait.  Xander, you can go
tomorrow.  Top me if you can.  This story is gonna scare you so bad," he
said, cackling madly.
        "Uh, Josh, I'm really beat.  Why don't we just go to sleep?" Xander
tried.
        "What, you're too *scared* to hear my story?" Josh taunted.  "Fine
by me, you can go sit somewhere else while I tell it.  Alone.  In the
*dark.*"
        ~This is a baaaaaad idea,~ Xander thought, but didn't say anything.
Any more protests and his friends would think he really was chicken.
After all, it could just be his imagination.
        It had to be his imagination.
        "Okay, this is the story my dad told me.  He said that years and
years ago, when he was camping out here with his buds, they were warned to
keep an eye out for this woman, La Charona.  You see, when the Spanish
lived here, she had two kids with a guy who owned a ranch.  She was poor,
so poor he didn't want to marry her, because he was greedy and wanted a
rich wife.  But she had two sons, and the rich wife that he marries can't
have any kids.  So the jerk kidnaps her kids and claims that they are the
children of his wife.
        "So, anyway, La Charona flips out.  She goes to the ranch house and
kills everyone in there.  She takes a big ax, and chops up her lover and
his wife.  And she's so insane that she chops up her own kids too.  She
kills anyone who gets in her way.
        "But then she realizes what she has done, that she's killed her own
kids.  But she's crazy, so she's convinced they're out there, somewhere.
She thinks that if she can look into their eyes, she will recognize them.
So don't sleep on your back when you sleep out under the stars, because
she'll hover over you and wait for you to open your eyes.  If she
recognizes you as one of her kids, you're safe.  But if not... SHE'LL CHOP
YOU INTO BITS!!!"
        Dead silence fell.
        "Whoa," Pete breathed.
        "Not bad," Wendell said judiciously.  It was, of course, only the
cold breeze that had him pulling his sleeping bag more tightly around him.
        "Yeah, great story, Josh," Xander said weakly.  Terrific.  If his
theory was right, he now had an ax-wielding mother to deal with as well as
a homicidal maniac with a meat hook for a hand and a rotting zombie chick.
        He was crazy.  No way that their stories were coming to life.
Except... how far away were they from the Hellmouth?  How far away did they
*have* to be for it to be safe?  Giles had said the Hellmouth was closed,
but then, it had been closed for all but about an hour on prom night, and
still the energy from it had leaked above.
        Restless, Xander finally fell asleep.  And in his dreams, Buffy was
there, smiling at him.  "Xander, you know that I've always wanted to be
with you.  Angel... well, he was just a fling.  You know, tall, dark and
handsome."  Her voice dropped, softened.  "It's always been you."
        "Buffy...."  His dream-hands reached for her -- and she turned and
slammed a stake into his heart.  "What... what did you do that for?" he
choked out.  "I'm not a vampire!"
        She tilted her head and shrugged slightly.  "Ooops."
        Right before Xander died, a shriek from one of the other boys woke
him up from his nightmare.
        "Pete!  Pete, what is it?" Wendell asked, shaking the other boy.
        "It... it was that woman!  The one from the story!  Man, I swear
it!  I opened my eyes and she was leaning over me with an ax!  Swear to
God!"
        Josh snickered.  "Guess I win the ghost storytelling contest, huh?"
        "I'm serious!  I saw her!" Pete insisted.
        "Look, man, you were dreaming," Wendell told him.  "She can't
exist.  It's just a story, remember?"
        "Yeah.  Yeah, right.  Just a story.  Sorry I woke you guys up,"
Pete mumbled miserably.  The three of them all turned over and recaptured
sleep.
        Xander lay awake until dawn.
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~
Continued in Part 3...

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~
"God made relativity and God made marijuana and the two are not entirely
unrelated." -- Boo   ~*~  http://www.primenet.com/~lizbet/





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Anya <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Technical Assistance (An Archive fanfic)
Date: 03 Sep 1997 16:26:40 -0400

Technical Assistance, an Archive Fanfic
by Anya
[e-mail]

*Author's Note: SOFA - Supporters of Fanfic Addicts *


Angel moved the mouse at random, hitting links as he went.  There didn't
seem to be a problem to him, but...

"You're SURE she said that there's been error messages?"  He finally
asked, tossing a distracted look over his shoulder to Xander.

Xander shrugged. "That's what she wrote.  I haven't had any, but..."
Xander puttered closer to the computer, and looked down at the screen.
I get the same view you're getting.  What version of Netscape are you
running at home?"

Angel looked rather embarrassed.  "Uh, I don't.  I don't own a home
computer."

"Really?" Xander laughed.  "No wonder you spend so much time here.  And
Buffy thought it was 'cause of her!"

Angel shrugged, "But I am here because of her...it's a fanfic site for
Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfiction."  He frowned down at the screen
again, and randomly hit a link.  The submission info jumped to view.  "I
still can't believe that she submitted that..."

"Mush?"  Xander offered helpfully.

"Yeah."  He didn't look up, but heard the chair beside him move, and
nearly FELT Xander drop his body into it.  Out of respect for the chair,
Angel winced.

Together, the two boys peered at the screen, waiting for some boogey-man
to jump out of them.  None did, which was just as well, since they
weren't sure what boogey-men they were looking for.  "Did you ask Willow
'bout these java-script error thingy's?"  Angel finally asked Xander.

"Uh..no.  Not yet."  Xander reached across the vampire for the mouse,
but Angel's hand slapped the arm away.

"Don't go there, man.  Or I WILL be looking at your neck."  The vampire
warned, indicating their truce lines only extended so far.

"Yeah, yeah..you and what army."  Xander retorted, seizing control of
the mouse.  "Y'see..it's like this, Anya's writing a sequel to SWAK, and
I'm the lead character in it..so, if you off me, Buffy won't get her
sequel, and if she doesn't get her sequel, all the SOFA meetings in the
world won't save you!"

The dark haired vampire glowered, before lapsing into a sulk.  "It's
about you?  I wanted it to be about ME!"

Xander's grin was beatific.  "From what I heard, you'll be in the
story.  We have to play nicely together."

"Together?"  The anguished strain in Angel's voice wasn't false.

"Yup.  Fun, huh?"

"Gaaah."  Angel let his head drop into his forearms. "I'm dying..again!"

Xander opened his mouth to comment again, but instead shouted out
gleefully as Willow walked into the library. "Willlllllloooow!  Light of
my life, joy of all joys, wondrous, beautiful Willow!!"

Her facial expression shifted from general happiness, to caution.  "What
did you break?"  Dark eyes flicked from the now-affectionate Xander, and
a particularly relieved Angel  "Oh God..you two together?  What did you
do?  Where's the body?"

Angel rose for his seat, and walked over to the alarmed hacker.  Taking
her bag off her shoulder, he set it gently down on the table, and rested
two hands on her shoulders, while standing behind her.  "Now, now..." He
soothed, "No one died, we were just trying to figure out how to answer
Anya's email message."

Carefully, he guided her to the table, and allowed her to take his
former seat.  With a final pat on her shoulder, he leaned down and
clicked over to mail.

Willow read over the screen quickly:

"Hi Everyone!

It's come to my attention, that some people are having problems
accessing the site.  Their browsers are spouting off "javascript errors"
at them.

I can say with certainty, that the page works on Netscape 3.01, 4.0, and
MSIE 3, and 4.0, but I can't speak for other browsers!  Please, PLEASE,
if you aren't able to get the page without messages, or are having any
other difficulties, I need to know this.  I will also need to know what
Internet browser you are using, and how much memory you have available.
JavaScript sometimes chokes up when there isn't enough memory.  Without
that info, I can't determine where the flaws lie!

Thanks!
--Anya
[e-mail]
http://SlayerFanfic.alz.com  "

Willow allowed this to absorb before commenting. "We don't have a
problem. We're running Netscape 4, with 16 MB's ram..."  She paused, her
eye lighting on the headers of the and then looked at the header
information.  "HEY!" She declared loudly, "That was MY mail!  You two
were in MY mail!"

Her longtime pal let his eyes go extremely wide, "We did?" He asked
innocently, before leaning over to look himself. "Oh my!  We did!  WHAT
were we thinking?"   He tsked himself lightly before continuing, "I'm so
sorry, Willow.  I though we were looking at MY email account."

Angel, behind Willow, gave Xander a quick 'thumb's up', and tight grin
at the male Slayerette's quick thinking.  Xander maintained his straight
face.

Willow pondered this for all of a millisecond, "You don't have an email
account with the school!"  Twisting in her chair, she glared at Angel,
"And don't try telling me YOU do either!"

"Not I!" Protested the vampire lightly.  "I came in to use the computer
and found the message already on the screen.  I didn't MEAN to snoop."

Willow turned back to Xander, one slim eyebrow raised inquisitively,
"And in your defense, you offer?"

Xander coughed, repeatedly.  "Ah..well, umm...devotion to the archive?"

Willow sighed, "Et tu, Brute?"  She gave a despairing look to Angel,
"Are we the only two with enough self control?"

Angel grinned, "So, I guess that means SOFA meetings are being upped to
three times a week?"

Willow frowned, "At the rate of conversions, attendance will be dropping
off to nil."

"That's okay, it's not like we have  space for them all, not until I get
the Bronze's renovations done."  He winked at her knowingly.  (*Author's
note..see Misery Loves Company *)

Xander waved his hand between the grinning pair.  "Hey, you two..what
about Anya?"

Willow patted him on the arm, "What about Anya?  We don't have a
problem, so I'm not going to fill up her mailbox with that comment!"

Xander blinked, "Oh."  He paused for a moment, before thrusting his jaw
out. "Sooo..if there's no message to write, and no emergencies to
research...I can play on the computer then, right?"

"No!" snapped Angel, "It's still MY turn!"

Willow dropped her head into her  hands and shook it sadly, "Another
SOFA bites the dust..."

                                The End :)



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Beach Blanket Buffy 12/? by JJ
Date: 04 Sep 1997 19:44:51 -0400

Here's the next part.  All comments and feedback is greatly welcomed.

Thanks!

JJ

Title:  Beach Blanket Buffy
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  The events for this take place after Prophecy Girl and
references are made to events in the past season.
Rating: PG
Warnings:  Violence
Classification: TB
Summary:
There's trouble in store when Buffy and the gang visit the beach!  Hey,
watch out for that vampire!
Yes, there's fun and merriment in store when the gang plays...Beach Blanket
Buffy!

Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 12
Frankie stumbled into the subterranean cavern of the Crimson Sand, his
missing finger healed to a misshapen stump.  Annette had unwittingly
exerted enough strength in her girlish slapping to shatter his rib cage,
and he suddenly toppled over, vomiting clumps of coagulated blood.  Upon
the dais, the tigerheaded demon Rakshas Silwani rose from her divan, her
Donna Karan t-shirt clinging to her supple torso.   "What is the meaning of
this?" she demanded.

"We found the emissary...there...was...a girl...with her.  They killed the
Four Seasons!"  Frankie stammered, as two of his brethren raised him from
the ground, leading him before their leader.  The rakshasha's eyes flashed
a tawny yellow as she growled and brought her claws down across his face.
He whimpered in agony.

"Fool!" she screamed.  "Do you know what I've had to do to prepare myself
for tomorrow?"  She shuddered at the memory of the hundreds of the humans
she had seduced to acquire enough tantric power to overthrow Big Kahuna.
She thought of Cordelia and the boy whom Rakshas had taken from her.  "I
should destroy you where you stand!"

She raised a finger at him.  She was bluffing of course;  she didn't have
the power to waste on this insignificant mote.  But the satisfaction she
felt as Frankie threw himself before her in supplication made the gesture
worthwhile.

"Please, mistress!"  he begged.  "It was the girl!  We would have beaten
the Emissary if it were not for the girl."

"The girl,"  Rakshas said, slowly.  "She may be the Slayer."  She kicked
Frankie is the ribs, breaking them anew.  "Your kind has been lucky in
avoiding the Slayer.  How unfortunate that she has appeared now."  Rakshas
remembered the young Untouchable who had been the Slayer at the last
Rising.  Rakshas had been hiding on the banks of the Ganges, waiting for
human prey--preferably a holy man, but instead she stumbled upon the
fishman who had shouted warning to the humans bathing and worshipping along
the shore.  His flesh had been sweet, but she could sense beneath the earth
when the Crimson Sand rose.  The screaming had been like music until the
girl arrived in a series of complicated acrobatic flips.  She quickly
quelled the tide, but Rakshas had seen enough.  Silwani occupied a low
position among the rakshasha, but recognized within the Crimson Sand the
potential to achieve her greatest dreams of power.  Even Shiva and Parvati
would bow before her.

She followed the Crimson Sand there afterwards, observing their ways
secretly, reading forbidden texts, and working her tantric magic.  She was
too close to her goal now to be stopped by the Slayer again.  She raised
her voice and spoke to the assembled vampires.  "Tomorrow night will be the
greatest night of our history!  Yet Frankie tells us of a dangerous threat
to our victory.  The Slayer and the Emissary have joined forces!"  Shouts
of horror and anger rang through the damned.  Rakshas held up her hand.
"But we shall not fear them!  I will lead you tomorrow to glory!  None
shall escape our terrible power!"  The collective cheered.

She looked down at the still cringing Frankie and lifted his face towards
hers.  "And you, my Frankie, will redeem yourself by bringing me their
hearts."
---
Boomer and Cordelia strolled along the sand under the moonlight.

"It's so restful out here," she observed listening to the gentle crash of
the water against the sand.

"It makes me miss not being alive,"  he responded.  "You know, Cordelia,
you're not like the girls from my time."

She laughed.  "Of course not.  Girls back then were raised on Patty Duke
and Barbara Billingsley.  I was raised on Madonna and Cyndi Lauper."

He threw her a quizzical look.  "Are they like Doris Day?"

Cordelia didn't know who that was.  Suddenly, Boomer took her hands and
stopped walking.  He leaned forward and kissed her quickly and chastely on
the lips.  Cordelia looked at his earnest face and smiled.

"I hope you don't think I'm being too fresh," he apologized.  "I don't
think you're, like, easy, or anything."

"Gee, that's sweet," she said.  He hugged her.

"Oh, Cordelia," he moaned, "I don't know how long this can last, but all I
know is that I feel really happy."

"I know how you feel," she said, feeling safe in his arms.

"Can you...can you accept that I'm a ghost?"  he questioned, pain in his voice.

"I think I can," she said, suddenly struck by the strangeness of the situation.

"It could all be over tomorrow, or next week, or next year!  When my
business is finished, I'll have to leave,"  he mused.

"Then we should enjoy it while we can," she said, locking her arm in his as
they continued down the shore.
---
Buffy almost broke the door down as she rushed into the house.  Xander
dragged Marie roughly behind him.  The mermaid had said nothing since
confessing her passion for him, except moan periodically.  They were unable
to extract what she had done to Willow.  Frightened beyond belief, they had
sprinted back to the beachhouse.

"Willow!"  Buffy screamed, her breath coming out in uneven gasps.

"Willow!"  Xander called in unison.

Marie stared blankly at the walls of the foyer, her eyes slowly drifting
upwards to the top of the stairs.  She let out a piercing scream.  Buffy
and Xander both looked up.

"What's wrong?"  Willow said, her features bearing deep concern.

The two friends regarded her with amazement.  Buffy was the first to speak.
"Willow, your hair..." she began, her mood a mixture of relief and shock.

"Do you like it?"  Willow asked, the desire for approval apparent in her
voice as she descended the stairs.

"It's short,"  Buffy said cautiously.

"It's a haircut,"  Willow countered, her eyes slightly hurt by the lack of
enthusiasm.  Xander stared at her, aghast.

"Did...she...do that to you?" Xander eked out, tightening his grip on
Marie's arm.  The catatonic girl whimpered.

"You don't like it,"  Willow concluded, fingering one of the short locks.

"No!"  Buffy said quickly, tears welling in her eyes.  "it's not that at
all.  It's just  I thought...I was so afraid you were dead...but all you
did was *get a haircut*!...Oh, Willow, you look beautiful!"  She hugged her
friend tightly.

Xander released Marie and she slipped to the ground and hugged the two
girls.  "Ditto," he whispered to Willow.  The big pile of sob broke long
enough so the three could look at the girl on the ground.

"What should we do with her?"  Buffy asked.

"I don't know..."  Willow said, looking sympathetically at the wreck of a
mermaid.

Suddenly, the back door opened and the teens could hear Cordelia and Boomer
run in laughing.

"Willow!  We're back!"  Cordelia shouted as they came into the foyer.  Her
cheery expression disappeared as she saw the tragic tableau that had been
enacted there.

"What's *she* doing here?!"  Cordelia yelled at Marie, Boomer wrapping his
arms protectively around her.  "Get that psycho out of here before she goes
Baby Jane on us!"

"Cordelia,"  Willow said, "Maybe we should hear..."

 Suddenly, a figure appeared at the open front door, stopping just at the
threshold, panting heavily.  "Boy, you guys sure are fast!  What a crazy
scene!" the girl laughed, catching her breath.

Boomer's arms fell away from Cordelia.  "Annette?" he squeaked.

The girl looked up.  "Boomer?"
----
end part 12





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Buffy Bunch
Date: 05 Sep 1997 02:06:11 -0700

THE BUFFY BUNCH

(To the tune of "The Brady Bunch")

Here's the story
Of a girl named Buffy
Who once longed for every simple teenage thrill
Dating, leading cheers,
Avoiding dying
Not dressing just to kill

Here's the story
Of her mentor Giles
Who once hoped he'd fly a plane or run a store
Hopes dashed long ago
When daddy told him
"You're watching, read your lore!"

Giles reminded doubting Buffy of her duty
Xander, Willow, and she must do more than lunch!
Their small group
Should form a vampire swat-team
They weren't lame, so they became the Buffy Bunch

The Buffy Bunch
No Master munch!
Teen blood ran, so they began the Buffy Bunch!


(lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose)

Lisa
These and other Buffy TV show themes can be found in
the "Traditional Songs" section of the Little Buffy Page:
http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls 5/? by JJ
Date: 05 Sep 1997 19:59:42 -0400

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:  There's some kissing and grown-up things, but nothing you
wouldn't see on TV.
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 5
When he arrived at the university, Xander stopped to get his mail from the
department secretary before going to his office.  Rosita, the dark-haired
woman behind the desk, greeted him with a warm smile, handing him a pile of
journals.  "You look like you ate a canary," she observed, her attractive,
irregular features touched with amusement.

"What?" he asked, snapping out of his imagining the taste of Willow's skin..

"You're not usually smiling when you come in the morning," Rosita
explained.  "Did you score last night?"

"I guess so," he answered with a smirk, liking the woman's forthrightness.
"I saw someone I haven't seen in a long time.  It was an unexpected
surprise."

"Cool," she said.  "What's his name?"

"Her name is Willow,"  he corrected.

Rosita paused.  "You seem surprised,"  Xander asked.

She shook her head, "No.  Sorry.  Don't take this the wrong way, but I
always thought you were gay."

Xander was taken aback, but not offended by the remark.  "What made you
think that?" he asked curiously.

She shrugged. "Don't know.  Just thought you were.  I hope you're not
offended?"

He shook his head, smiling at her as he left the department office.  On the
second floor of the Chase Building, a young man waited for him outside his
office.  "Hey, Doc!," he said agreeably upon seeing Xander.

"Hi, Chris,"  he said, as the young man wiped his glasses on his vintage
Xena: Warrior Princess t-shirt.

"Listen, Dr. Harris," Chris rambled, as Xander unlocked the office door and
invited the student inside.  "I think I've figured out what I'm going to
write about for my independent study.  I've been doing a little research
about Sunnydale, going through some old newspaper clippings.  Do you know
this area has the highest unsolved murder rate in all towns with
populations of  20,000-40,000 people in Northern California?"

Xander smiled to himself, plopping down in his chair.  "I think I'd read
that somewhere."

"Yeah, well, you know,"  Chris continued, as he dug out of his backpack a
notebook in which his research was carefully jotted down.  "I'm from the
Bay area and used to my share of weird stuff, but the stuff that happens in
this town...Wow!"

"So what are you thinking?"  Xander asked, interested in the young man's
opinion.

"About 80 years ago there was an enormous earthquake that damaged only two
structures in the entire town.  The city hall and the church.  The church
was completely swallowed by a sinkhole, but the town hall was rebuilt.
Weird, huh?  I mean, earthquakes aren't usually known for their
discriminatory power."

Xander's ears perked up at the mention of the earthquake that had trapped
the Master.  "Well, the church itself was built over a Spanish mission that
burned down in the late 1800's,"  Xander offered.

"Right!"  Chris send enthusiastically, "And the Spanish mission was itself
built over Indian sacred ground."

"It's not unusual for foreign religions to appropriate the trappings of the
indigenous beliefs.  It facilitated conversion..." Xander broached.

"Yes," Chris said, scratching his goatee, "But look at what was built over
the church."  He handed the professor a photocopy of the front page of the
August 25, 1952 Sunnydale Gazette announcing the opening of Sunnydale High
School, with a photo of the architect George Underwood Easterman holding
the scissors just before cutting the ribbon.

"After designing the school, Easterman came into a whole lot of money that
allowed him to start the university,"  Chris revealed, smugly satisfied by
the level of research.  "But the school burned down 8 years ago."

Xander struggled not to remember the events of that night.  The night they
lost Buffy.  Buffy's voice flashed in his head, --You guys, get out of
here!--  "All of this is pretty much common knowledge,"  Xander said,
uncomfortably.  "A new city hall was built over the ruins of the school."

Then Chris presented his piece de la resistance.  "But what people don't
know is that Easterman designed it."

"Easterman died 25 years ago,"  Xander countered.

"In his original contract with the town, he specified that if anything
happened to the school, the town hall had to be moved to the location, with
the exact design he provided in 1952.  His executors threatened the city
with a multibillion dollar suit if the contract's terms weren't fulfilled."

"Which explains why City Hall doesn't have central air,"  Xander realized.

"Exactly!" Chris exploded, carefully unfolding a map of the town.  "One
other thing:  I accessed the police data base..."

"Accessed?"  Xander asked, bemused.

"Okay, *hacked* into the police data base and chose a random number of
murders over the last 30 years and where they occurred.  Then I went back
into the town archives and sampled another set of murders from the
pre-computer files.  Then I added the other weird stuff:    spontaneous
combustion, xenoglossia, etc.  Check this out."

He laid the map out on the desk.  Almost all of it, denoted by small red
marks, fell within a perfect circle that covered half the town.  With a
particularly high concentration falling in the center.  Xander laid his
finger on that point, "The high school?"

Chris nodded grimly.

"But what are you going to do with this information?"  Xander inquired.

"The tunnels under the school are still extant.  I want to investigate them."

Xander stared incredulously.  This young man had almost deciphered the
entire secret of the Hellmouth and now wanted to the throw himself into the
danger of the Sunnydale tunnel system.  "Absolutely not,"  Xander forbad.
Then saw the crestfallen expression on the man's face.  "Chris, this is
great work, but you'll be breaking the law, and what you're proposing is
very dangerous.  As your professor, I cannot in good conscience allow you
to do this."

"Dr. Harris..."

"If it's the grade you're worried about, you're welcomed to write up what
you've found.  It's 'A' work, but..."

"Christ, Dr. Harris!  It's not about the grade.  There's something there! I
can feel it!"  Chris implored, but Xander's expression was stern and
unyielding.  "You're not going to change your mind, are you?"

"Be reasonable,"  Xander suggested.  "I'm happy to see you so enthusiastic
about this, but don't rush into something that could get you arrested or
hurt."

"You know what?  For such a young guy, you really are a fuddy-duddy!"
Chris observed bitterly.

"Probably,"  Xander agreed.  "But please, Chris, promise me you won't do
anything stupid like go down into the tunnels."

Reluctantly, the younger man nodded.  "I guess I better go start typing
this up, huh?" he conceded, packing his things up.

Xander smiled, "Sure."

The young man got up and started for the door.  "Next week, okay?"

"Absolutely,"  Xander sighed, happy to have dissuaded the student from
acting hastily.  "Take care, Chris."  The door closed.

Xander turned to his work and got lost in it for 20 minutes before he heard
the door creak open.  Swiveling around, he turned to face his new visitor.
It was an incredibly beautiful woman with straight dark hair, cut short and
falling to two sharp points on either side of her mouth.  Her eyes were
ovoid and a tawny hazel color.  "Dr. Harris, I presume,"  she said in a
voice like velvet being rubbed the wrong way.

He nodded, speechless.

"My name is Hecate," the woman offered, sitting down without waiting for an
invitation.  "We have things to discuss."
---
In Xander's house, Willow lay on the ground, gasping for breath.  The
Anointed One was dead.

The God stirred.
----
end Part 5





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Anya <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Betrayal of the Technologically Inept
Date: 04 Sep 1997 20:33:14 -0400

The Betrayal of the Technologically Inept -Archive Fanfic
by Anya

It was, in Willow's opinion, the ultimate betrayal.  It was one thing
for Buffy to become addicted to the Fanfic sites, and the mailing
lists. Willow could cope with that, there was back-up to deal with
the Slayer, as well as SOFA to offer Willow the continued
emotional support she needed to function.

Xander's shifting loyalties from a true SOFA to an addict...that had
been a brutal blow, and Angel's conversion on the heel of Xanders...
Willow shuddered, wrapping her arms tightly about her.

Ms. Calendar had remarked on the cruel hyocrisy of it all.  In her
struggle to save her friends, Willow, the computer nerd, advocated
shunning all things Internet.

But then, Willow had more control than to log onto the net every
spare moment.  Willow was able to go to the Bronze, school, and
shopping without a compulsive "MUST-LOG-ON" fit.

Buffy, Xander and Angel lacked that discipline.  Angel had out and
out BEGGED for the loan of a computer.  It was a piteous sight to
see.  A grown 250+ year old vampire, on his knees, arms wrapped
around her knees and practically pulling her off balance as he wept
his desperate need of a computer..and modem.

It was so painful, to hear herself voicing Giles' protests of the
computer.  It was as if everything she had known, believed in, and
trusted, all her true strengths, had caved in.

But..this...this went beyond that.

Willow slid down to the floor, arms wrapped tightly about her
knees.  Keening softly, she felt her soul shrivelling up inside with
the horror of it all.

She was utterly alone, and defenceless against the addicts.

Giles, the Watcher.  Steadfast anti-computer librarian, had
succumbed to this plague-like addiction.   He was a Fanfic-looney
too.

She had been sitting in chemistry class, actively taking notes in an
effort to ignore Buffy's incessant whining for computers in every
classroom.  It had been been a shock to hear herself summoned to
the office over the PA system.

Ms. Cooper had excused Willow from class, reminding her to get
the homework off a classmate.  Hustling down the corridors,
Willow had mentally compiled various excuses for whatever
infraction she may have committed, although no recent crimes
came to mind.

"Hi Mrs. Smartle," Willow said cheerfully, as she opened the door
to the windowed office.

The grey haired secretary smiled warmly at her, "Hello, dear.  I'm
sorry to pull you out of class, but Ms. Calendar said you were the
best student to help Mr. Giles out.  He's having a bit of difficulty
with the computers in the library."

Willow blinked a few times, before the most logical explanation
sprung to mind.  Giles and Ms. Calendar had concocted this excuse,
obviously, there was something big in the wind, and Giles needed
her help.  "O-kay....I'll go to the library then!  Thanks!"

Tossing a quick wave behind her, she had nearly run to the library.
"Giles?!  I'm here, what's going on?"  She shouted as she tossed her
bag to the floor by the reception desk, and then raced for the
computer.

"I can't make this thing work!"  The Watcher had said, owlishly
blinking up at her with his glasses reflecting the screen's light.

Something deep within Willow froze at the sight.  "Get what to
work?"

He waved impatiently at the screen.  "It worked on Ms. Calendars
computer...but it won't on this one."

Feeling herself cringe, she looked at the Javascript error message
window that obscured the view of the Slayer's Fanfic Archive page.
"No, Giles...not you too!"

"Make it stop that..."  The Watcher begged.  "Please?  Why is it
doing those awful messages to me?"

She felt her knees give out, "No Giles, please, please, snap out of it.
This is a computer..the web...those cold, impersonal machines you
don't like..remember?  They have no smells or anything..."

He patted her on the head with the affectionate gesture a petowner
bestows on their dog.  "Yes, but it's rich with such diverse
entertainments, knowledge and perceptions.  What a marvelous
device!"

The horror had been too much, and Willow had backed away
slowly, hands pushed out and head shaking 'no'.  She could feel the
sob in the back of her throat, aching to burst free.  "NO!!"  Spinning
on heel, she ran out the door, and as far as she could from wherever
Buffy, Xander and, now, Giles would be, or think of looking.

"Maybe Anya can offer a solution.  She seems to be in control..."
Willow mused.  "No, I can't ask that of her, not now.  She's so
upset that she has to remove the Javascript from the site, 'cause
AOL users are incapable of handling it..."  The cold stone of the
wall lulled her senses, and she lost track of time, so wrapped up in
her thoughts.

"Willow?"  A slim hand gently touched her shoulder, shaking her
lightly.  "Willow?  What's wrong?"

A tear-streaked face looked up, into the porcelain perfection of
Cordelia's.  The ruling Princess of the school had a tiny concerned
frown creasing her perfect brow, as she knelt beside Willow.

"They're all...."  Willow's voice trailed off.

"Addicted.  I know."  Cordelia said calmly, bestowing a reassuring
squeeze on the hacker's shoulders.  "I know the fanfic is good,
but...that's all any of them do.  My friends are just as bad."

It took Willow's beleagured mind a few seconds to make the
essential connection.  "You're not hooked, too?"

The brunette shook her long mane of hair.  "No.  I have more
important things to obsess over."

"Oh."

Pursing her lips, Cordelia took stock of the situation.  "Look,
Willow, let's get out of here.   I think you need some distance to
regain your composure."

Cordelia was being nice to her?  This was so weird, it was like
being in the Twilight Zone or something.  "Why are you being nice
to me?  I'm the one who's seen the Softer Side of Sears,
remember?"

Cordelia visibly winced, "Yeah.  I'm sorry about that.  But, you're
my only hope!  We have to cure them of this addiction, or else NO
ONE will notice ME anymore!"

That made sense, as far anything that related to Cordelia was
concerned.  Willow allowed Cordelia to help her up, and guide her
outside into the bright afternoon air.  "Where are we going?"

Cordelia flashed a brilliant smile, and fished her keys out of her
pocket. *Where does she have room for a pocket in that dress?*
Willow wondered.  The dress was so snug it might as well been
painted on.

"Shopping, of course, I can't have you wearing such drab outfits
while your hanging with me."

                                       The End?

I'm going to have to take the Javascript off the Slayer's Fanfic
Archive, as I indicated in this story, as apparently all things AOL
choke on the Javascript.  The coding I used for the 'glow' function is a
little fancy, yes...but..I never realized that AOL was so @ss-backwards.
*Grrrr*

I'm tremendously upset at that.  I busted my tail creating that
function, *sigh* Oh well.  Life goes on.  All I ask, is no one write
me asking what happened to it.  Thanks!
-Anya



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Virginia Eveland <[e-mail]>
Subject: Re: BUFFYFIC: The Betrayal of the Technologically Inept
Date: 05 Sep 1997 21:20:08 -0400

Have you considered using it with JUST HTML code for that pretty glow?
Um.. if you go to shareware.com and look up widget, I think you can
finda  button widget that can do it without any fancy code at'all.
--
Virginia Eveland [e-mail] UIN 1517244
Pretender,Slayerette, Bab5, X-Phile
SYX, AGML, LGW, BLA, OBSSE, GASP
Keeper of Giles's Inner Child
Keeper of Buffy's Three Gold Hoop Earrings
Keeper of Little Buffy's Dogeared Copy of 'Horton Slew a Who'
--
Webmistress of the Buffy ICQ List, B/G 'Shippers, BTVS Tape Trade
http://www.erols.com/dscully/index.htm
--



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Virginia Eveland <[e-mail]>
Subject: Re: BUFFYFIC: The Betrayal of the Technologically Inept
Date: 05 Sep 1997 21:59:57 -0400

Ok, I was a bad bad girl, I thought my previous message was going
directly to Anya, and not to the list, for which I profusely apologize.
As my band director would say, "I made a mistake in my life...once..."
Of course, the date he gives is about is about twenty years ago...

And to put this slightly more on topic...

I have this crazy idea for a fanfiction (self--you mean *another* one
you aren'g going to finish, Virginia?  Yes, self, I enjoy tormenting
myself that way) Mainly, I'm tentative about posting what I have so far
because
A. It's a slash
and
B. It's *not* between the 'normal' characters considered for slash
fiction. As in Buffy/Angel, or Buffy/Giles, or Angel/Willow or
Xander/Willow or Xander/Cordeila, or Xander/Buffy.  or even
Giles/Willow.  (some of you are probably wondering what the heck that
*does* leave (g).)  So, that makes me nervous.  Actually, it's a
(cringing, ducking, you get the idea) Willow/Buffy.

Sooo....if people would e-mail me *privately* at [e-mail]
that's mailto:[e-mail] as to their opinions on this, I would
appriciate it.  Thanks!

--
Virginia Eveland [e-mail] UIN 1517244
Pretender,Slayerette, Bab5, X-Phile
SYX, AGML, LGW, BLA, OBSSE, GASP
Keeper of Giles's Inner Child
Keeper of Buffy's Three Gold Hoop Earrings
Keeper of Little Buffy's Dogeared Copy of 'Horton Slew a Who'
--
Webmistress of the Buffy ICQ List, B/G 'Shippers, BTVS Tape Trade
http://www.erols.com/dscully/index.htm
--



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Anya <[e-mail]>
Subject: Re: BUFFYFIC: The Betrayal of the Technologically
Date: 04 Sep 1997 21:21:13 -0400

[e-mail] wrote:
>
> Have you considered using it with JUST HTML code for that pretty glow?
> Um.. if you go to shareware.com and look up widget, I think you can
> finda  button widget that can do it without any fancy code at'all.
> --

Hi!

I know I could do it in straight code, but it doesn't work quite the
same.  Also, I'm so heartily sick of it all, I'm just giving up.

-Anya



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Buffy Bunch (Slightly Revised)
Date: 06 Sep 1997 14:17:29 -0700

I just checked out this page of Sarah interview
sound clips.  Some of them are hilarious!

   http://www.tvguide.com/tv/watch/ww040397.htm

Check out #7 where she sings "The Brady Bunch" song.
I'm reposting here a *slightly revised* version of
"The Buffy Bunch" in honor of that.

My lyrics won't match syllable by syllable with what SMG
sings, because I didn't cram all the extra syllables into
certain lines (eg, "All of them had hair of gold just like
their mother") that the original did.  But mine should
scan well to the original melody (with appropriate
pauses).


THE BUFFY BUNCH

(To the tune of "The Brady Bunch")

Here's the story
Of a girl named Buffy
Who once longed for every simple teenage thrill
Dating, leading cheers,
Avoiding dying
Not dressing just to kill

Here's the story
Of her mentor Giles
Who once hoped he'd fly a plane or run a store
Hopes dashed long ago
When daddy told him
"You're watching, read your lore!"

Giles reminded doubting Buffy of her duty
Xander, Willow, and she must do more than lunch!
Their small group
Should form a vampire swat-team
They weren't lame, so they became the Buffy Bunch

The Buffy Bunch
No time to munch!
Teen blood ran, so they began the Buffy Bunch!

(lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose)

Lisa
These and other Buffy TV show themes can be found in
the "Traditional Songs" section of the Little Buffy Page:
http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Epilogue (1/1)
Date: 07 Sep 1997 13:01:07 -0700

<sigh>  I meant to have this done before now, but the outside world
distracted me.  Sorrysorrysorry...

And now...
-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~
What I Did On My Summer Vacation... Epilogue
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Disclaimers:  See Author's Notes
[e-mail]

        With a certain amount of resignation, Giles viewed the interior of
the Sunnydale High library.  It had been repaired in his absence, and the
repairs had done nearly as much damage to his filing system as the original
earthquake.  Forgetting himself, he sighed.  And he had just finished the
dusty, messy job of clearing out his office in London...
        "You're definitely going to need some help in here," Calendar said,
shifting one of the boxes she carried to her other hip.  She had been the
only person he could think of to call when he had landed in California and
found that his car had been towed from the long-term parking he had placed
it in.  She had cheerfully come down to get him, and cheerfully chattered
in his ear all the way back to Sunnydale, mostly about a diary that had
been discovered in Napa Valley that had been written about a century ago
and had answers to several unsolved mathematical equations that would
revolutionize the computer industry.
        Giles sighed again.  "Yes," he said finally, surveying the
wreckage, "I am."
        They worked throughout the afternoon companionably enough, Calender
pausing occasionally to look through some of the more arcane volumes she
found carelessly stacked here and there.  "Gonna have to learn Latin," she
muttered at one point, flipping through a volume done in exquisite
calligraphy.
        "I'll teach you," Giles said absently, rescuing a three hundred
year old volume from the floor and frowning at the cracks in the binding.
When she didn't say anything, he glanced up to meet her eyes.
        "Thanks."  She smiled tentatively.  "I was going to look for a Web
site that had lessons or something but... thanks."
        Suddenly embarrassed, Giles put the book down on a shelf.  "It's
nothing.  It would... ah, be helpful to have someone else who can decipher
these volumes."
        Shortly after sundown, pleading exhaustion, she left.  "Don't work
too hard, Rupert," she scolded lightly as she gathered up her purse and
some papers.
        "I won't... blast it, what *is* your first name?  If you insist on
torturing me with Rupert."
        Calendar grinned and waved on her way out the door.  "It's Nikki.
And no, I'm not telling you what that's short for."
        Chuckling, Giles continued his labors under the glare of artificial
light.  Oddly enough, he didn't mind being there as much as he thought he
would.  His memory of the night of the Master's death was still vivid, but
more than bearable.  He had other memories...
        He paused while straightening the stack of previous Watcher's
diaries.  Harriet Wentworth's would be there, he knew.  He had scanned it
briefly, months before, looking for clues about the vampire she had called
Angelus.  But he hadn't read carefully, hadn't paid attention to the fate
of the Slayer she had guarded...
        Slowly, he sorted through the stack.  Hers was fairly thin, no more
than a couple hundred pages, bound in boards rather than in leather.  He
lifted the cover with a hesitant hand, and stopped.
        A sound... no, not quite a sound.  A *sense* made him look up,
expecting to see Calendar -- Nikki? -- return, Willow reclaim her spot
behind the computer, Buffy charging in to declaim *something* vitally
important, Xander at her heels.
        Instead, it was the boy that Giles had met so briefly in his
travels to Ireland and the eighteenth century.  Except that he was no
longer a boy.  Two centuries of vampirehood and a restored soul had changed
him.
        But now, at least, there was one person who knew what he had been
before.
        Angel had one of the oldest of the diaries in his hands, and was
deeply engrossed in the text.  Giles had seen him last the night that the
Master died.  The contrast between the very modern-looking man before him
and the boyish novice in a monk's robe was jarring.
        Angel looked up and met Giles' eyes.  "Quite a library."
        "Yes."  Still holding Harriet's diary, Giles stepped out from the
stacks to come face-to-face with Angel.  "Yet I didn't have the volume that
I needed at the time I needed it.  I don't believe I ever thanked you for
that.  I -- I am thanking you now."
        Angel shrugged.  "It was nothing.  I... knew that it would be needed."
        "How did you get it?"  Giles kept his voice very deliberate.  He
needed to know if... he needed to know.
        Smiling slightly, Angel replaced the manuscript he had been
reading.  "You gave it to me."
        Imperceptibly, Giles' shoulders relaxed.  "I wasn't sure at first,"
Angel continued quietly.  "But I remembered tales about the dance.  And I
remembered your voice when you called me here, when you read the Codex and
knew Buffy's fate.  It was the same as the man who gave it to me two
centuries before.  A physical resemblance I could understand.  But... it
was the same man."
        Giles closed his eyes, remembering.  "It was all I could do.  As
little as it was."
        The wind outside rustled the trees, wailing slightly in the night.
"Do you know what happened to her?"  Angel's voice was low and hoarse.
        "To Deirdre?"  Giles shook his head.  "I have all the diaries of
the Watchers before me, but frankly, they offer little information of use
to me.  Knowing the past is rarely helpful.  My books of lore, of prophesy,
are my tools.  I skim the diaries for information on specific vampires,
should they appear in the Slayer's vicinity, but knowing the lives of
previous Slayers is rarely useful."
        "But you could find out."
        Giles glanced at the volume in his hand.  "Yes.  Yes, I could find
out.  Do you... do you truly want to know?"
        Angel raised his eyes to meet Giles'.  After a very long moment, he
shook his head.  "No.  I don't.  It's not... necessary."  Angel opened and
closed a few books, obviously stalling for time.  "I... I want to you
know... if you need any help, I want to help you.  Help Buffy."
        "I thought you were going to... refrain from seeing Buffy."
        "I can't."  The words were rough with feeling.
        Despite himself, Giles smiled ruefully.  "That was your answer when
I asked you if you were going to see her."  Turning to place Harriet's
diary on a shelf, he said casually, "I believe she is meeting Willow and
Xander at the Bronze for a welcome home party."
        When he turned back, Angel was gone.
********
        "Ugh."  Willow shuddered.  "I've always hated that story."
        The Bronze was comfortably familiar.  Loud music, lots of people,
and Buffy, Willow and Xander seated around a table.  Willow and Buffy were
sharing a piece of Chocolate Sin cake, with Xander sneaking bites when he
thought neither of them were looking.
        "It's definitely no longer one of my favorites either."  Xander
shuddered.  "And then Pete told the one about the golden arm, and then Josh
told one about a chick with an ax and..."
        "I can see where this is going."  Buffy slapped Xander's hand away
from the last bite of the chocolate cake.
        "But they went away, right?  When you told a story about a
disappearing girl?"
        "Yeah.  Hey, don't look so surprised.  I've got a brain."
        "It even gets used sometimes, too," Buffy said dryly.
        "I don't want to wear it out," Xander protested.
        Buffy and Willow looked at each other, and cracked up.
        "Your dad's okay, though, right?" Willow asked anxiously.
        "Yeah.  He thinks that someone just flipped and he was in the wrong
place at the wrong time.  I'm just really glad that everything turned out
okay."
        "You know, you could have called me for help," Xander told her in
his best suffering-put-upon-male voice.  Buffy just rolled her eyes.
        "So, Will, tell me about this guy Rick.  Is he cute?"
        "Rick? Rick?  Who is this?  Will..."  Xander went into immediate
panic mode.
        Buffy planted her elbows on the table, and propped her chin up,
bestowing a beatific smile on her two buds.  Behind her, a sixth Slayer
sense told her that a vampire was watching her.  From Willow's drifting
eyes and smiles, and her own intuition, she knew who it was.
        She didn't have to talk to him tonight.  It was enough to know he
was there.
        "What's the grin for?" Xander asked.
        Buffy slung her arm around him.  "It's... just good to be home."
********
        "Xander," Willow's exasperated voice sounded from the stacks, "I
know that library systems are strange things to you, but even you can put
things in numerical order..."
        Buffy, Willow and Xander were helping Giles restock the library
shelves with their dusty volumes of gloom and doom.  Bright sunlight shone
on the new wooden desk and sent dust motes dancing in the beam.  Nikki
breezed in, and stopped dead when she saw the three teenagers clustered
around the librarian.  She blinked, then grinned.  "Sorry, even now that I
know the deal, it's still weird to see kids in school in the summer.
Voluntarily, even."
        "That's us," Willow said brightly.  "Weird."
        "Besides, summer's almost over," Buffy added, dusting her hands
off, and examining the grime under her nails with disgust.
        "And we have a lot to catch up on," Giles said severely, looking
over his glasses at an unconcerned Buffy.
        "Cool enough," Nikki said.  Walking over to one of the stuffed
trucks of books, she heaved some up and pitched in.  "So, Giles, what's the
score in your magic Codex?  Does it tell us what happens next?"
        "I, um, am afraid I don't have it any more," Giles pulled off his
glasses and cleaned them.
        Nikki put the books down with a thump that raised more dust in a
shimmering cloud around her.  "You don't have it?  You *lost* it?"
        "No!" Giles denied vehemently.  "I deemed it necessary to pass it
on to someone else.  Unfortunately, it is now impossible for me to retrieve
it."
        "So we're flying blind again," Buffy said.  She crossed her arms
and leaned a hip against the central table.  "Should be interesting."
        "You have no idea," Giles said.  He paused and watched as Nikki was
dragged into the stacks and a three-way conversation, listening to Willow
describe a mathmatics-minded ghost and Xander tell his tale about how
telling tales nearly got him and his friends killed.  Quietly, Giles said,
"I apologize for not being there when you needed me."
        Buffy smiled a little at him.  "Hey, it's okay."
        "No, it isn't.  I'm your Watcher.  It is my responsibility and my
duty to look out for you."
        "You're human, Giles."  Buffy perched on the table beside where he
was standing.  "If you could have been there, you would have.  And...."
        Buffy broke off, embarrassed.  "What?" Giles asked her.
        "I'm sorry about the night I ripped into you."  She pleated the
meager material in her skirt, not meeting his eyes.  "You know, when you
told me about the prophesy."
        "When you overheard me telling Angel about the prophesy," Giles
interjected.
        "Yeah, that."
        Giles fumbled with putting his handkerchief back into his pocket,
pushing his glasses up his nose.  "There is... there is no need to
apologize.  You were understandably distraught."
        Buffy smiled.  "Thanks.  So you don't need to be sorry and I don't
need to be sorry."
        They sat in meditative silence for a moment, and then Giles said,
"There is one thing that puzzles me."
        "What?  Only one thing?"
        Giles ignored her.  "You know, quite a bit less than a year ago, I
came here thinking that I would be guiding the Slayer in her destiny.  Very
simple.  Very direct.  And that's the last time anything was simple and
direct."  He paused as Nikki's laugh drifted out to where he and Buffy
were.  "How we managed to... accumulate, I really don't understand."
        "Giles just lucky, I guess," Buffy deadpanned, looking at the three
emerging from the stacks again, knowing that there was one more that Giles
was referring to who was a part of their little circle.  She knocked
against his shoulder lightly.  "All I know... it's better than being
alone."
        Leaning companionably, they watched Nikki and Willow and Xander
bicker among themselves about the difference between Willow's ghosts and
Xander's monsters.
        The library doors heaved open, and a dark-haired whirlwind blew in.
"Guys!" Cordelia cried.  "You are just *not* going to believe what
happened to me over the summer!"
        Xander, Willow and Nikki stopped their argument and turned to look
at her.  Buffy slid off the table.  Giles pushed his glasses up his nose
again.
        As one, they looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

THE END, REALLY THE END, FINALLY, COMPLETELY THE END

High Priestess Lizbet of the Cult of Joss -~*~- {{>AGA<}}
[e-mail] ~*~ [e-mail] ~*~ Keeper of Joss's Evil Brain
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me." ~*~

"You were the brightest light that burned too soon in vain..."
Honor Diana's Memory -- Boycott the Tabloids





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3: The God of Nine Walls 6/? by JJ
Date: 07 Sep 1997 18:49:21 -0400

Here's the next part.  *Please* read the warning.  I consider this part
extremely violent, but necessarily so in order to convey the magnitude of
the evil the characters face.  (I don't know, some of you may disagree.)
Please consider yourself warned.  I need to know if this "works" in terms
of eliciting a particular response.

Again, all feedback is greatly welcomed and appreciated.

Thanks!

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating: R for Violence, PG-13 for everything else.
Warnings:  THIS PORTION IS EXTREMELY VIOLENT.
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 6
Ten minutes before Willow collapsed, a clown in a bright, multicolored,
checkered costume,  wearing a porcelain mask twisted in a mocking grimace,
back-flipped rapidly down the dark electric tunnel, clutching his bloody
prize and trailing the tinkle of the tiny bells and maniacal laughter
behind him.  A surge of vampires pushed after him, trying to catch the
acrobat before he escaped the tunnels.  It was still daylight outside, and
the walls were getting lighter as they came closer and closer to the
surface. With a cartwheel, he disappeared around a sharp corner and the
vampires followed, stunned when they realized that they had reached the
entrance, tall and forbidding.  The tunnel emptied out onto a concrete
basin above ground, long unused by the humans.  The sharp afternoon light
contrasted with the orange-tinged darkness of the surrounding walls.  They
stopped en masse at the tunnel's mouth, not daring to venture into the
light.  There was an unobstructed view for miles and Scapino, the Prince of
the Autopsy, was nowhere to be seen.  He had vanished.  The little vampire
at the back of the pack pushed his way to the front.  Some of the younger
vampires averted their eyes at his mutilation.

The Anointed One was furious, surveying the vista.  The Prince had caught
him unawares in the  Master's throne room and had cut off his face before
his protectors could reach him.  In the indirect light, the red muscles and
tendons of his little boy's face were grotesquely emphasized, clumps of
skin still sticking to the meat.  "Where did he go?"  he demanded to the
vampires in the front.  They shook their heads and shrugged.

Suddenly from above there was a jackal-like laugh as the assemblage looked
up to see Scapino, pressed flat against the ceiling.  He swooped down,
kicking the Anointed several yards forward into the sunlight and flipping
out after him, landing en pointe beside the little body sprawled on the
ground outside.

The Anointed One's first reaction was to throw his hands up against the
burning sunlight, screaming at the top of his young voice.  He scrambled to
his feet to run towards the safety of the tunnel entrance, the other
vampires holding out their arms to him and shouting, but Scapino tripped
him, grabbing his ankles as he dragged the Master Vampire further away from
the protection of his compatriots.  The other vampires stood in shock at
the tunnel's entrance, none willing to rush into certain destruction to
save him.  Their leader's short arms burst into flames and flailed about
wildly.  As the sun destroyed the Anointed One, the Prince of the Autopsy
danced a happy jig, holding up the child's face like a mask over his own,
slashing his scalpel through the air like a sword.  Finally, the charred
body stopped twitching and slowly decomposed into ash.  The vampires in the
tunnel who were the Anointed's direct progeny felt his death  like a sharp
knife through their spines, wailing inconsolably at his loss.

With a perverse giggle, Scapino shoved his trophy into the pouch by his
side, waved at the horrified vampires, and ran quickly away.
---
"It's a barbaric practice,"  she concluded, looking at Xander while folding
up the morning Gazette.  "Sending exceptional young women to their deaths."
Xander had sat there for ten minutes, watching as she editorialized while
reading about the gruesome death of the young woman the night before.

"I'm sorry.  Do I know you?"  Xander finally asked.

"This girl, you knew she was the Slayer?"  Hecate said, pointing at the
picture with the article.

Xander nodded.  He had met her once; Giles had insisted that Xander offer
his help to her and her Watcher should they ever need it.  She was bright
and articulate and Xander had been  shocked to hear that she was dead.

"It will take them a few days to find the next one.  We should have plenty
of time to do what we must to stop what killed her predecessor,"  Hecate
continued.

"What killed her?"  Xander asked, carefully, not certain whether the woman
could be trusted.

"The God of Nine Walls,"  she answered simply.  "Or more specifically, his
agent."

"I've never heard of..." he began.

"Willow Rosenberg is staying at your house right now, isn't she?"  Hecate
interrupted.  "She gave you something.  I want it."

Xander flashed on the necklace in his jacket pocket.  "What does Willow
have to do with this?"

"Just give it to me.  Please,"  the goddess said, holding out her hand.  "I
can feel it on you."

Xander suddenly raged, "Why can't you people leave her alone?  Haven't you
done enough to her?"

Hecate's eyes flashed.  "You stupid little boy, I certainly haven't done
anything to her!  She stole the necklace from me.  And I want it back.
Now."

"She said she found it,"  Xander said.

"Then she lied,"  Hecate answered, calmly.  Xander met her gaze fearlessly.
With a sigh, she reached into her hand bag and pulled out a small wax
figure, the strands of Xander's hair that Gilda Rosenberg had procured
embedded within it.  She held it up.

"I think you can probably guess what this is, seeing as how you're an
anthropology professor," she stated.  "I regret having to coerce you in
this instance, but the stakes are too high for subtlety on my part."

"You don't seriously think that will work?" he asked incredulously, then
shouted "Ouch!" as she gently shoved a pin through the doll's shoulder.

"You'd be surprised at what I can make work," she said, smiling sweetly.

"If I give you the necklace, will you leave us alone?"  Xander demanded.

She looked at him compassionately.  "You really believe that she came back
here for you, don't you?"

When he didn't answer, she answered, "Yes.  If you give me the necklace, I
will not interfere with you.  I swear it by whatever oath you will believe.
However, I cannot guarantee that she will not try to interfere with me."

"All we want is a chance to be together," he said, reaching into his pocket
and extracting the small plastic bag that held the object they had fought
over.  He held it out cautiously to her and she took it, checking to verify
that it was indeed what she wanted.  Smiling, she stuck it into her purse
and made to leave.

"Leave the doll," Xander asked.  She looked at him absentmindedly.

"Oh.  Sure."  She tossed it onto his desk.  "Consider it a gesture of good
faith."

She walked to the door and turned to face him, "I can see why she loves
you.  I think under different circumstances, we could have been friends.
Can I give you some advice?  It's freely given and well-meant."

"Yeah, sure," he said sarcastically, rolling the pain out of his shoulder.

"Don't push it, kid,"  she said tartly, then continued, "Women like Willow
are ours only for a short time.  They exist to serve a higher purpose and
cannot escape their responsibilities  despite the wishes of their hearts.
Like the girl who died last night.  I wish you two could live out a mortal
lifetime together, but somehow I see this whole thing ending badly for
everyone involved.  If I were you, I would get you both as far away from
Sunnydale as possible."

She closed the door behind her, leaving Xander with his thoughts.  Had
Willow lied to him?  Who was the woman who just left?  What was the God of
the Nine Walls and was he a threat?  Whatever the answers, Xander
recognized the wisdom in Hecate's parting words.  He would discuss leaving
when he saw Willow this afternoon.  His ruminations were interrupted when
the door popped open.  Hecate stuck her head back in.

"By the way, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find a vampire
named..." She looked at a slip of paper in her hand, "Angle?"
---
Mayor Snyder entered the washroom of Town Hall.  Two terms as Sunnydale's
mayor had been enormously fulfilling, expanding his desire for order from
the school to the town as a whole.  Not a day passed where he didn't
recognize the irony that his new office was located almost exactly where
his old one had stood.  But in the eight years since the high school burned
down, he had reduced the crime rate by 75%, increased revenue for education
by 20%, and improved the general quality of life in Sunnydale immeasurably.
Now the gruesome murder of the teenage girl had provoked an immediate and
vociferous reaction from the older Sunnydalians  who remembered some of the
ugliness that preceded his reign.  He sighed.  There was nothing to be done
if some drifter came through town and killed one of its citizens, but a few
calls to  Chief Benedict of SPD would probably yield a few of the local
"usual suspects."  It would be enough to quell the public outcry.

As he washed his hands, he heard the distinct flow of liquid somewhere in
the room.  Had someone left a faucet running?  He looked at the adjacent
sinks.  No, none of them were on.  He listened carefully and noted that the
sound was coming from one of the stalls.  He checked under the stalls.
They were all unoccupied.  He stepped from door to door listening for the
source of the sound, which was growing progressively louder.  He reached
the last door and saw a thick red liquid spreading on the ground.

"What the...?" he began, pushing the door open.  He covered his mouth at
what he found.  In the toilet was a human head, its face removed, dead eyes
staring up at him.  Overflowing the sides of the bowl was blood, coming
heavily now.  He had seen enough of it during his tenure as a high school
principal to recognize it.  He struggled to keep from screaming and
vomiting at the same time and rushed out of the restroom.  In the
crawlspace above, the Prince of the Autopsy watched the Mayor flee, then
giggled as he dragged the headless body of the Chief of Police into the
darkness.
----
End Part 6





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "The Book" (1/1) by D.Spence
Date: 07 Sep 1997 21:28:16 -0400 (EDT)

TITLE: The Book
AUTHOR: Dalton S. Spence
EMAIL ADDRESS: <[e-mail]>
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: This story cannot be sold or used for profit
    in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use
    only or posted in fanfic archives for general distribution, but
    must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.
SPOILER WARNING: Occurs the morning after "Prophecy Girl"
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNING: This story ends with a truly terrible pun. If
    endings of this nature disturb you, you may wish to read
    something other than this story.
CLASSIFICATION: CH - Crossover with Reality, Humor
SUMMARY: A lost book finds it's way to the library from a very
    unusual place.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Giles, the Slayerettes and all other characters
    who have appeared in the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"
    together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole
    copyright property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., Kuzui
    Enterprises, Sandollar Television, 20th Century Fox Television
    and the Warner Brothers Television Network. No copyright
    infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction.
    All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are
    the sole property of the author.

                             "The Book"
                        by Dalton S. Spence
                      <[e-mail]>

Everything is relative. Even reality.

At the side of a certain road in California, not very from Los
Angeles, a family has stopped for a picnic lunch. A young girl is
about to read the first novelization of her favorite TV series (not
realizing the place they have chosen for their meal is spatially
coexistent with the setting of the story in a different universe).
Suddenly a freak storm blows up out of nowhere, forcing the girl to
run for the family's car, dropping the book in her haste to remain
dry in the downpour. The storm ends as quickly as it came, but on
leaving the car the girl can find no trace of her book.

*Sunnydale High School Library*

Giles had arrived early that morning to clean up that the mess the
previous night's battle had left behind. While Angel had removed the
Master's skeleton, the damage still had to be assessed before the
janitorial staff arrived Monday morning and made their report to the
little dictator. Amazingly enough, none of the book shelves seemed
to be badly damaged, but many had been shaken enough to dump their
contents on the floor. The fallen books would have to be checked for
damage, sorted and reshelved. //Oh well, that's what I get for
choosing the cover of a librarian,// he thought with a sigh as he
set to work.

He was about half way through the debris from the second row of
bookshelves when he saw it; facedown among the hardcover textbooks
was a slim, dark covered paperback with a red gothic headline over
the blurb on the back cover. //Someone must have left their latest
novel behind,// he thought as he picked it up to take a closer look.
Suddenly he froze in horror as he read the description of the book's
contents, and flipped it over to see the title. "Good lord," he said
aloud as he stared at it, "this is ... unbelievable!"

                         *   *   *   *   *

This is where they found him two hours later; sitting in the middle
of the aisle between the shelves, with an orderly pile of books on
one side and a scattered heap on the other. He had read it through
three times already (it wasn't a very large book) and was half way
through his fourth perusal. The first rather panicked scan of it was
barely remembered, except as confirmation that the book was printed
from cover to cover. The second and third readings were much more
detailed; a desperate and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to find
some evidence that the book was a fraud or a joke, perpetrated by
either his enemies or his friends. Having finally accepted that it
was what it appeared to be, this last reading was simply a check for
accuracy (at least, that's what he told himself) as he considered
how best to tell the others of his discovery. But as usual, events
took this out of his hands.

"I see it, but I don't believe it," came a voice from the end of the
aisle, "Rupert Giles, sitting on the floor, engrossed in a paperback
novel. Buffy, are you *sure* we averted the apocalypse last night?"
Looking up, Giles saw Buffy, Willow and Xander standing there, the
latter having spoken.

"I don't know," replied Buffy, "I thought I had, but now I'm not so
sure. So what is it, the latest effort by Jeremiah Defoe?" At this,
Willow inexplicably giggled, but was ignored by the others.

After a moment's thought, Giles decided against delaying the
inevitable. "Actually, you could consider this a little gift from
the Hellmouth," he said, noting with some small satisfaction the
looks of consternation on their faces. "Apparently, when it opened
up last night it swept along a few small items from neighboring
dimensions, including this book. Hopefully, nothing more dangerous
came along with it."

From a few feet away the book *looked* innocent enough, but Buffy
had learned how deceiving appearances could be. "Exactly how do you
know it's from another dimension?" she asked.

"It's all about us," Giles answered, "or more precisely, it's the
novelization of the pilot of a television series about us. It starts
the night before Buffy arrived here, and ends the morning after she
thwarted the Harvest." Ignoring their stunned expressions, he showed
them the cover. Sure enough, there was the title, "Buffy the Vampire
Slayer" written in gothic lettering carved in stone, above a picture
of the four of them plus Cordelia. "Not a very flattering picture I
admit, but it is probably a reduction of a publicity shot."

"It looks like we have terminal sunburn," commented Xander,
fascinated with the idea that somewhere he was famous.

"Ugh," groaned Willow, "I look like I'm wearing *way* too much
rouge. Any more, and I could run for hooker of the month."

"What about me?" asked Buffy indignantly. "I'm supposed to be the
star of the show, and there I am, slouching in front of the rest of
you wearing an icky yellow dress I wouldn't be caught dead in. Cordy
is the best looking person there, and she wasn't even one of us
until last night! And where's Angel? I would have died that night
without his warning."

"Hey, you know vampires can't be photographed," answered Xander
smugly. Seeing his humor was not appreciated he admitted, "Okay, so
it's a lousy picture. What are you going to do; go the the other
dimension and stake the photographer? Anyway, at least we're a *HIT*
series. Let me see," he said, reaching for the book.

Giles pulled it back. "Sorry, I'm afraid I'll have to keep it for a
while. While most of it is just dialogue or action scenes, some of
it is personal observations or private thoughts. I'm sure none of
you wants to invade the others' privacy or have them invade yours."

Willow paled at the thought. "But ... but ... you've already read
it! Just how detailed is it?"

"Not very," Giles explained, "and the only thing in there I didn't
already know was the Master's name ... Heinrich Joseph Nest. This
makes me the natural custodian of the book. While I can't confirm it
of course, I suspect the book follows the shooting script of the
show very closely. Since the book is classified as young adult, the
show probably is too."

Buffy's expression suddenly became grim. "You know, I thought after
last night, nothing could bring me down any time soon. I should have
known better. What you're saying is everything that's happened to
me, to *us*, has happened because of a *TELEVISION SHOW?* Is that
what you're telling me? That people have *DIED* just to entertain
some interdimensional voyeurs?"

"It could work the the other way," replied Giles, trying to calm the
furious Slayer. "Instead of them influencing us, maybe *WE* are
influencing *THEM!* Perhaps this Joss Whedon fellow is receiving
images of our exploits through the Hellmouth, and believes they are
his own ideas. If he had a hand in casting the show, naturally he
would pick actors who resembled the `characters' in his mind."

"You don't suppose they really know *EVERYTHING* that's happened to
us, do you?" asked a anxious Xander. "You know, like the nightmare
thing?"

"I doubt it," responded the Watcher carefully. "Unfortunately, if
we are projecting images through the Hellmouth, they are probably
the most emotionally laden ones. However, if the images he receives
are as accurate as the ones in this book, the audience is likely to
be rather impressed with all of us. After all, when you think about
it objectively, we've done some pretty impressive things."

"True," said Xander, only partly mollified. "Still, it's a bit
weird, thinking that they could be watching anything we are doing at
any time. Maybe they are watching us right now."

"I doubt it," said Buffy, "it would much to self referential. Not to
mention being a blatant plug for the book."

"Not if it were fanfic," interjected Willow helpfully. "I mean, if
our lives are a hit show, then we've got to have fans, right? And
fans write fan fiction."

"Fans," said Xander thoughtfully, "I never thought about fans. Too
bad they are in another dimension."

"T take it fan fiction consists of amateur stories about the program
without official sanction," asked Giles. After Willow nodded, he
added, "Sounds rather innocuous, really."

"Some of it is," admitted Willow, "but a lot of it can get rather
... twisted. Remember, fan is short for fanatic, which means that
their feelings for the show and its characters are by definition
somewhat...intense. It used to be confined to fan clubs photocopying
some stories, stapling them together and selling them at cost to
people at conventions as fanzines, but now it's all over the
Internet. It's quite a phenomenon. There was recently an article
about it in the New York Times."

"But why would an amateur want to write about a professional's
work?" asked the puzzled librarian.

Willow shrugged. "Admiration? Envy? Maybe just to let others know
it's available? Some forums for fanfic have strict rules about what
can and can't be posted, so off topic announcements have to be
written into stories. Some of the best fanfic I've read recently
involved announcements and requests for aid for a popular fanfic
archive."

"So what you are saying is, someone could be writing about us right
now?" asked Buffy. "Just to tell people about that book?"

"It's a possibility, I suppose," answered Willow uncertainly.

"How could I get him to stop?" Buffy was getting seriously wierded
out by this whole conversation. //A TV series I could handle, but
fanfic? Why, he could make me ...// She brought her thoughts to an
abrupt halt, as she blushed furiously.

"You could always threaten to stake him," replied Xander. Seeing
Buffy's glare, he quickly added, "Okay, bad idea! What about reading
the information about the book aloud, then going to lunch."

"That should work," said Buffy. "I can't think anything more boring
to write about than people eating."

"But it's only ten o'clock!" protested Willow.

"Brunch then," said Buffy with finality. "Giles, since you are the
librarian, would you do the honors?"

Feeling the whole idea was rather absurd, Giles decided to humor his
Slayer this once. He read the information from the binding, "Buffy
the Vampire Slayer number one. The Harvest. A novelization by Richie
Tankersley Cusick. Based on the episodes by Joss Whedon. $3.99 US /
$4.99 Canadian. That should be enough, don't you think?"

"Probably Giles," replied Xander, "unless you imagine your fans are
gasping for more." In response to this comment, the fabric of two
universes shuddered, and a low moan sounded from below their feet as
the book in Giles' hand crumbled to dust. "What did I say?" asked an
astonished Xander.

"I think we had better not find out," said Buffy as she headed to
the door. "I'm hungry. Let's eat." The other followed her quickly,
leaving behind an empty library, and a relieved readership.

--
        +-------------------------------------------------+
        | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. <[e-mail]>|
        | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html |
        +-------------------------------------------------+



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Little Xander in Slumberland 1/1 by JJ
Date: 08 Sep 1997 14:08:05 -0400

This is short and sweet and dedicated to Winsor McKay.

Title: Little Xander in Slumberland
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating: G
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Those of you who know Winsor McKay's Little Nemo in Slumberland
will recognize the tone of this piece.  Those of you who don't will think,
"what the...?"
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.


Little Xander arrived in Slumberland just in time to rescue the Princess
Willow from the clutches of the naughty Angelus.

"Oh, help me, Little Xander!"  the Princess shouted as Angelus made to
carry her away.

"Ho ho!" said Angelus, drawing on his cigar and blowing a ring of smoke at
Little Xander.  "You won't stop me, Little Xander!  If you try, I'll tell
my uncle, the Sun, not to shine at today's  Hullhullaberries Festival!"

But Little Xander was not scared, raising his fists in the air.  "Oh,
naughty Angelus!  Let the Princess go or it's fisticuffs between us, sure!"

At the threat of bodily harm, Angelus quickly set the Princess down.  "Heh!
I was only joshing."

"Do you promise to be good, naughty Angelus?"  Little Xander asked, wagging
his finger at the wicked boy.

"I promise,"  Angelus said.

"And to stop trying to ruin the Hullhullaberries Festival?"

"Sure, yeah, I will be good,"  he whined, mumbling under his breath, "Gets
so's a fella can't even josh around anymore."

"Since you promised to be good, you may go with us to the Hullhullaberries
Festival,"  Little Xander offered magnaminously.

"Hurrah, Little Xander!"  The Princess cried, as a giant floating ship came
to a stop next to them.  "It is the Buffagilly Shippers!"

A long plank rolled off the side of the ship and at the top stood Captain
Giles, pride of the Slumberland Navy.  "Halloo! " he called.  "I have been
sent to bring you all to the Hullhullaberries Festival!"

A pretty young girl came up beside Captain Giles,  "I am second-in-command
of this fine vessel,  First Mate Buffy!  Halloo!  Hurry, or we shall be
late!"

The three children ran up the plank, as Little Xander cried, "Oh, mama!  We
musn't be late for the Hullhullaberries Festival!"

Princess Willow looked over the side of the ship as it lifted into the air,
"Oh, Slumberland looks small from here!"

"Yeh, you've been in one floating ship, you've been in them all!"  Angelus
noted, puffing on his cigar.

Captain Giles stood proudly at the steering wheel, safely navigating the
Slumberland skies.  "Would you like to pilot the ship, Little Xander?"

Little Xander exclaimed, "Oh, may I?"

Captain Giles stepped aside as the little boy took the helm.  "Oh, Mama is
not here to see me pilot this great ship!"  Little Xander lamented.  "But
what does this button do?"  he asked, pushing a small red button in the
center of the steering column.

"Oh, no!"  First Mate Buffy shouted.

"Oh, no!"  Princess Willow shouted.

"Heh, Heh!" said naughty Angelus

"Oh, hasty Little Xander!"  Captain Giles exclaimed.  "You've released our
stores of Hullhullaberry juice!  Now we are falling!"

The ship began to nosedive towards the earth below.

"Oh, mama!"  Little Xander cried, "I am sorry I pushed that button now, sure!"
----
"Xander!" his mother cried, waking the teenager.from his deep sleep.  He
blinked at the world around him.

"Xander!" she repeated, "Little boys who don't wake up in time for school
get no breakfast, yes!"

The end





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Reflections: W.I.F. (03/?) by D.Spence
Date: 09 Sep 1997 06:18:20 -0400 (EDT)

That loud crack you may have heard about 2200 h EDT yesterday was
the sound of thousands of heads beating themselves against a nearby
wall in response to the teaser for the season opener. Hopefully it
was just deliberately misleading to get us to watch the show. (As if
we needed additional incentive.) Does anybody have an aspirin?

                         *   *   *   *   *

TITLE: Reflections: Warrior...Innocent...Fool
AUTHOR: Dalton S. Spence
EMAIL ADDRESS: <[e-mail]>
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: This story cannot be sold or used for profit
    in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use
    only or posted in fanfic archives for general distribution, but
    must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.
SPOILER WARNING: Occurs after "Prophecy Girl"
RATING: R - Restricted
CONTENT WARNING: This story depicts scenes of violence and/or their
    aftermath, and a strong love relationship between two consenting
    adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of
    story is illegal in the state or country in which you live,
    please do not read it. If depictions of this nature disturb you,
    you may wish to read something other than this story.
CLASSIFICATION: C - Crossover with Xena: Warrior Princess
SUMMARY: When an evil goddess is accidently released from millennia
    of captivity, she uses her powers to torment the descendants of
    her enemies -- Buffy, Willow and Xander. Giles must use an
    ancient Greek artifact to summon the ancestors who defeated her
    before -- Xena, Gabrielle and Joxer.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Giles, the Slayerettes and all other characters
    who have appeared in the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"
    together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole
    copyright property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., Kuzui
    Enterprises, Sandollar Television, 20th Century Fox Television
    and the WB Network. Xena, Gabrielle, Joxer and all other
    characters who have appeared in the syndicated series "Xena:
    Warrior Princess," together with the names, titles and backstory
    are the sole copyright property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance
    Pictures. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing
    of this fan fiction. All other characters, the story idea and
    the story itself are the sole property of the author.

               Reflections: Warrior...Innocent...Fool
                      (a BtVS/X:WP crossover)
            by Dalton S. Spence <[e-mail]>
                              Part 3/?


*The Master's Secret Vault, 1535 h PDT*

"There is a detailed description of a certain conversation that I'm
supposed to use to fix the place and point in time. I just hold the
crystal like this, concentrate on the scene, and ..." There was a
brilliant flash, and where Giles had been standing alone an instant
before, he was suddenly surrounded by three oddly dressed strangers
who were touching the crystal and each other. "... we're there. Or
here. Whatever," Giles concluded calmly, looking about him as if to
verify his location. "If my understanding is correct, we should have
arrived at the same instant I left."

Buffy was (as usual) the first to recover from the shock. "Uh yeah,
I guess. What took you so long? I take it these are our ancestors?"

The tall, dark haired woman (obviously Xena) took a long hard look
at the teenagers, then turned to Giles and asked him in an irritated
tone, "Why didn't you tell me they were so ... young?"

"You didn't ask?" he responded tentatively. Seeing that was not
acceptable, he admitted, "If the truth be told, I hardly ever think
of them particularly as `young people' any more. They ARE young of
course -- there's no denying that -- but I don't think of them as
`BEING' young, if you catch my meaning. I don't think it's possible
to `BE' young when you're fighting for your life against monsters
and demons. Unfortunately they have been doing quite a lot of that
lately."

Xena's expression softened. "I understand. In wartime, one grows up
quickly or not at all."

Xander waved his hand in the air to get their attention. "Excuse me
for for interrupting this fascinating conversation, but shouldn't
she be speaking Greek or something?"

Xena looked at the young man, puzzled. "You mean we aren't?"

Gabrielle spoke up. "He's right, Xena. I'm thinking in Greek, but
the words come out sounding different, and I'm understanding what's
being said as Greek, but the sound of it is all wrong. What gives?"

"I bet I know what's happening," Willow said eagerly. "The crystal
must be acting as a universal translator. You know, like Star Trek."

"Star Trek?" asked Gabrielle.

"That's a sh... I mean a series of make believe stories about a ship
that travels between the stars seeking out new worlds and new
civilizations. A modern myth, you could say."

"Oh, you mean sort of like Jason and the Argonauts, except they
aren't real."

"There wasn't a golden fleece as an ultimate goal, but otherwise
that's pretty much it." Turn to the librarian, Willow asked, "Was I
right? About the crystal, I mean."

"Very close, but what the crystal actually translated was our guests
themselves." Giles answered. "According to my instructions, the
crystal makes `the mind and the body of the traveller a part of the
new times.' Aside for the translation gift, I expect this means they
are immune to the new diseases of our time, and no longer carry any
ancient or extinct diseases that were harmless to them but we have
no immunity to."

"Well, that's a relief," Joxer said sarcastically, "I'd hate to come
all this way just to make each other sick." Ignoring Gabrielle's
muttered comment, he turned to Xander (whom he somehow instinctively
recognized as his descendant) and said, "So you're the one who woke
up Callisto, huh?"

"Hey, it was an accident," protested Xander, "I tripped over some
rocks!"

Xena placed her hand on Joxer's shoulder. "Joxer, it doesn't matter
*WHO* woke her up. The important thing is to get out of this place
and start figuring out a way for him to put her to sleep again, this
time permanently. By the way, that reminds me. Does anyone know
where she is?"

                         *   *   *   *   *

*The Bronze, 1600 h PDT*

While the Bronze was primarily known as Sunnydale's hottest night
spot, that didn't mean it was closed until the sun went down. Being
well aware of the needs of the community (and the opportunities for
profit), the owner opened his establishment from three to six PM on
weekdays, and from one to five on weekends to accommodate the after
school crowd. In compliance with the local ordinances, the bar was
closed but the juice bar and dance floor were open. The crowd was
smaller and somewhat quieter, and the mood more laid back, but it
was still the Bronze, and the place to be in Sunnydale (if you had
nowhere else to go).

Sitting alone at a dark corner table well away from the dance floor
was a pretty blond woman wearing a too-tight pink halter top, black
leather miniskirt, and ornately tooled leather boots, who seemed to
be content watching the ongoing activities with both amusement and
fascination. Several young men had already approached her asking for
a dance, attracted by her aura of seduction and danger. The polite
ones were refused with a smile and a wave, but the persistent ones
received a chilling glare with her strange pale eyes that gave them
an urgent need to be elsewhere.

//So this is what a modern tavern looks like,// thought Callisto
cheerfully as she sipped the fruit juice she had `convinced' the
man at the juice bar to give her. //No matter what else changes, men
will always remain the same.// She could have conjured up her drink
(as she had the modern clothes) with her powers as a goddess, but
she hadn't flirted with anyone in over three millennia, and it was
very gratifying to know she still had what it takes. Besides, she
was in a very good mood today; she was free, she was beautiful, a
goddess in a world that no longer believed in such things and it was
only a matter of time before her liberators summoned her enemies for
one last glorious battle. Life didn't get any better than this.

When she had first burst forth from her imprisonment, she had taken
the form of a snow-white hawk, and had soared over the town taking
in the sights and slaughtering whatever unwary pigeons crossed her
path. What she saw was astonishing; horseless chariots made of metal
and glass that travelled at unbelievable speeds, flying ships of the
same construction that rose to heights Icarus never dreamed, people
(even children) routinely using strange artifacts that seemed at
first glance magical but had no aura of sorcery about them.

It was all very confusing, but fortunately for her not totally so.
As the spell that had bound her had weakened over the years, she had
awakened within her stony shell for brief periods, becoming aware of
her surroundings and the changes to the world. Her first memory
after her battle with Xena was almost eight hundred years ago, when
a handsome Belgian crusader had liberated her from the den of an
infidel sorcerer who had sought to tap her powers, and had sent her
to his home in Brabant. What happened to that knight she did not
know, for she never saw him again.

For a few centuries she stood as an ornament in the castle's garden;
watching the dramas of mortal life being played out around her,
receiving the confidences of countless lovelorn maidens who sensed
her attention (and somehow imagined it benevolent), dozing for a few
decades here and there, and acquiring a fierce hatred of pigeons
that was nearly as bitter as the one she held for Xena. Finally the
family of the crusader died out, and the castle's contents were sold
to a prosperous English merchant, whose family later moved to the New
World to exploit it's unlimited opportunities.

She remained with that family, learning to loathe and despise them,
until a night almost a century ago when she awakened to the sight of
dark forms flitting about the garden where she stood, and wonderful
sounds from the house of the family crying and screaming for mercy,
and apparently receiving none. Her joy somehow communicated itself
the leader of these creatures, who strode proudly before her in the
moonlight and raised his fearsome visage before her. "Ah, you are
pleased, I can sense that," he intoned with a smile that exposed his
yellowed fangs. "Good. I had feared that your ability to hate might
have been blunted with the passage of time, but instead it seems to
have been strengthened and purified. I think we are going to get
along just fine."

//What went wrong?// she wondered, watching the teenagers writhe
around the floor in the controlled convulsions they called dancing,
//How did you manage to fail, not once, but TWICE?// The Master (as
the others had called him) was the only one who had ever talked to
her since the beginning of her curse, knowing both who and what she
was. He had explained about the origins and nature of his kind (so
much like Bacchi, but so very different too) and his ultimate goal.
It had pleased her to think of how the descendants of her enemies
would suffer in the ensuing chaos, and he had promised to use the
power of the Hellmouth to break the spell and make her his queen.
Even though she realized he intended to use her for her power, this
still made him the closest thing to a friend she had ever had.

On the night he made his first attempt, the earth shook, but instead
of the cries of triumph she had been expecting she heard his screams
of rage and fustration. It was hours before she heard the hidden
door open, and the slow, tired steps toward her told their own
story. He looked at her silently for a moment, then let loose a
bitter, ironic laugh. "I should have learned from your example, my
dear. No one is so powerful that they cannot be undone by treachery.
I am now as trapped as you are." He explained how his most trusted
lieutenant had inexplicably disrupted the ceremony at the last
moment, causing the magics he had been using to open the portal to
bind him to it instead. "It will be decades before I can gain the
strength to try again. At least I can spare you the wait. Sleep, my
lovely, until my destiny is fulfilled." She allowed his spell to
take hold, and had known nothing more until she had awoken half an
hour ago. So much for destiny.

With a sigh she put down her glass and got up from the table. //I'm
not doing myself any good thinking about it. He's gone, and I can't
bring him back.// Ignoring the disappointed frowns she left behind,
she opened the door and stared into the afternoon sunshine. Then she
smiled. "Or can I?"

                      <-- to be continued -->

Author's Note: NEED FEEDBACK! Particularly plot ideas. 8-]
--
          +-------------------------------------------------+
          | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. <[e-mail]>|
          | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html |
          +-------------------------------------------------+



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls 7/? by JJ
Date: 09 Sep 1997 20:37:54 -0400

Here's part 7.  Not much happen except a lot of angst and some colorful
language (nothing R-rated though).  :-)

Feedback is always welcomed.

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating:  PG-13
Warnings:  Mild language.
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 7
In room 226 of the Holiday Inn, Hecate plopped down onto her bed and rolled
around tiredly before clicking on the television.  Forcing the boy to
surrender the necklace had taken more energy than she had wanted to use and
her temple throbbed with a dull ache.  He had voluntarily told her where to
look for the vampire, although he couldn't promise she would find him.
Nevertheless, it was a start.

Looking up at the ceiling, she checked her messages: a small circle in
Florida implored her aid in warding against a poltergeist that was
tormenting a member's child, a twenty-something Neopagan had swore lightly
with her name after dropping a can on his toe, an international group of
technopagans raised a cone of power in the mid-Atlantic during an online
chat session and released it in her name.  She noted with some amusement
that not all of them had honored the group's decision to perform the ritual
skyclad.  She sent the appropriate blessings to the group dealing with the
poltergeist.  More than she had to, really; the Florida coven had also
invoked Erishkigal and the Morrigan.  "But what have those two done
lately?"  she observed in her best Homer Simpson voice.  "Nuthin' for no
one."  She snickered at her little joke.

It had been so much easier when George was alive.  He kept her stuff,
including her power.  And now she was scrambling around the earth,
reclaiming the things that had been hers, trying to avert the end of life
as she knew it.  George had died quietly, in his sleep, five years ago, and
in the magickal world this was a better way to go than as a stain on the
ground, but she  mourned him genuinely and missed him still.

"...decapitated..."

The Asian woman on on the television caught her attention.  She rolled onto
her stomach, resting on her elbows as she turned up the volume.

"...City Hall has refused to comment on this grisly tragedy that has
happened in its own backyard.  Police refuse to release all the details of
the murder, although the cameras did see the coroner flee the scene,
apparently very distraught.  Following the tragic killing of Melissa
Jackson, this daylight assault on City Hall itself raises the important
question 'When will the madness end?'  I'm Erin Li, Warner News..."

Hecate turned the television off.  It was happening too fast.  She had to
find the vampire tonight.
---
Willow carefully came out of the bathroom.  The antacid had helped to
settle her stomach, but the general ache in every muscle of her body
persisted.  The Anointed One was dead.  She was certain of it.  She tried
to observe her emotions with clinical distance:  part of her was ecstatic
at his death, another furious as she had to let go of her complicated
revenge fantasies, and strangely, a small part of her was regretful.  She
couldn't forgive him for what he had done to her, but her life since the
change had been rich with excitement and meaning.  With the powers she had
gained, she felt she had made a positive impact on the world, an impact
that a mortal Willow would have lost through age or marriage or exhaustion.

She heard a car door slam outside.  It was Xander.  She could feel him in
her bones, and it gave her a thrill that made her canines ache.  As he came
through the door, she straightened up, adjusting the pretty dress she had
thrown on, masking her discomfort as she rushed to embrace him.  He
returned her embrace less enthusiastically.

"What's wrong?"  she asked, her smile fading.

He looked at her sadly.  "Nothing.  It was just a rough day."

"Poor baby," she said, reaching up to rub his temples.  He pulled away
suddenly, avoiding her eyes as he headed into the kitchen.  She followed
him.  "Are we still going for a drive?  It's almost Christmas and you don't
have a tree up or anything.  I thought we could go..."

"Sure," he said curtly, washing his hands in the sink. He turned to face
her, but something in the garbage can caught his eye.  Gingerly, he picked
up the white plastic bag on top and looked at it.  Through the plastic he
could see the label on the empty blood pack inside.  He looked from the bag
to her.

She watched him carefully, trying to gauge his mood.  She remembered his
mercurial temperament from high school and how carefully she used to tread
around it.  "I got hungry," she explained, uncertain of his response,
trying not to let the girlhood crack in her voice appear.

He stared at her evenly for a second, then turned away, tossing the bag
back into the trash.  "You really are different now, aren't you?" he asked
quietly.

"I'm sorry.  Did I do something wrong?" she asked, suddenly feeling sixteen
years old again.

"You didn't ask me about your necklace,"  he said, his voice bitterly happy.

"What?"

"Your necklace.  Don't you want to know what I found out?" he asked, the
smugness in his voice  growing.

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

"Actually," he began, "I didn't find out anything.  I gave it away."

Now she was shocked.  "Why?" she sputtered.  Damn it.  He was going to ruin
everything.

"I had a visitor.  She said it was hers and I gave it back to her.  She
said she knew you.  Maybe you know her?  Her name's Hecate."  The
accusation in his voice struck her like a hammer to the face.

She struggled to keep her face neutral, but he could sense her answer.
"Yeah, that's what I figured," he stated, starting to walk away from her.

"Let me explain," she said, feeling the tears forming at the corners of her
eyes.

He wheeled violently on her.  "Yes.  Why don't you explain?  Why don't you
tell me why you're here?  Why don't you tell me why you're pulling me back
into this cloak & dagger crap?"

"You know why I'm here," she offered weakly.

"No, I don't!  I thought I did..." he exploded.

"Xander, please," she begged.

He stopped.  "That's the first time you've called me by my name," he said,
slowly.  "Since you've been back, that's the first time.  My god, I haven't
called myself 'Xander' in years."

Seeing him calm down, she approached him slowly, "Xander..." she said
soothingly.  He knocked her hand away, reflexively.

She stood there, watching his conflicted emotions as her own anger grew.
"Why don't you tell me you never want to see my pasty face again?" she
suggested, poisonously.

He looked at her incredulously, "You're not going to throw that back at me?"

"If you want to act like we're still in high school, why not?" she said.
"You dumb bastard.  You may have gotten smarter in the last 18 years, but
you haven't gotten any wiser.  Of course, I'm not the same person I was 18
years ago.  I'm not some eternal sixteen year old who's been carrying a
torch for you all this time.  You aren't doing me any favors by bestowing
your affection at this late date.  *And I am not some mirror to reflect
your greatness back at you.*"

Xander was flabbergasted.  "I never said you were..."

"It's not always about you, you know.  You're just a selfish, mean...Jerk!"
she shouted.

"At least I'm not a bloodsucking liar!" he retorted hotly.

She screamed and slapped him roughly.  There was an eternal pause as Willow
realized what she had done.  Xander stood there frozen; he could feel how
deeply her nails had scratched his cheek, and the hot wetness that began to
ooze out.

"Oh, my god, Xander," she said, rushing to him and tilting his head to slow
the flow of blood.  He struggled to break away from her, but she was
stronger and led him back over to the sink.  She wetted a paper towel and
applied it against his cheek.  He refused to meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.  "Please don't hate me."

There was a long silence, the two of them standing together in the kitchen,
her hand pressed against his cheek, before he finally looked down at her
and managed ruefully, "How can I hate you?  I love you.  I just don't get
you."
---
End Part 7





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Epidemic "Buffy Withdrawal Syndrome" Update
Date: 10 Sep 1997 13:50:14 -0700

In anticipation of "B-Day" on September 15th, the
list of symptoms for the dreaded "Buffy Withdrawal
Syndrome" has been reformatted and greatly expanded.
Check it out (if you're not afraid of the truth about
yourself) at:

   http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/bws.html

I've included the latest symptoms below to
whet your already insatiable appetite.

Lisa

------------------------

How can you tell if your interest in "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" is a healthy
recreational diversion, or a full-blown, life-impairing addiction? Read the
following list of symptoms that physicians now feel are associated with this
relatively new illness known as "Buffy Withdrawal Syndrome" (BWS). Do you
experience any of these symptoms between seasons, maybe even between
*episodes* of Buffy?

Known Symptoms of Buffy Withdrawal Syndrome:

     The time from 9pm to 10pm on weeknights other than Monday seems empty
     and utterly pointless. You feel agitated and depressed attempting to watch
     other programs.

     You buy Bufforette gum at the store, hoping it will stop the cravings,
     but it only reminds you of the real thing.

     You gain weight.

     You begin making excuses for reasons to go into the TV room where
     your Buffy tapes are, (you "forgot something," you "have to make a phone
     call," etc...). Your friends' faces tell you they no longer believe you.

     You say you can quit watching anytime you want to. You just never
     happen to want to.

     You go to Buffaholics Anonymous meetings and annoy people by saying that
     unlike everyone else at the meeting, you don't have a problem.

     You've replaced all of your old friends, who annoyed you by criticizing your
     endless talk of Buffy, with new Buffy friends who understand completely.

     You go to dark, creepy parts of town late at night (after visiting the cash
     machine), hoping to buy tapes of missed Buffy episodes, rare promos, and
     bootleg blooper reels.

     When the cops bust you during copyright enforcement sweeps, you always try to
     tell them you are just a "fan." They reply, "Yeah junkie, whatever you say"
     and take you to your usual cell. Joss's lawyer has a special file folder
     just for you.

     Joss and the cast were once flattered by your attention. Now they are
     terrified of you and the "offerings" you leave on their porches.

     You ceremoniously erase all of your Buffy tapes to prove to your family
     that you're "drying out." But secret copies are hidden in the garage, the
     spice cupboard, and buried in the backyard...

     There is nothing quite so eupohric as a new Buffy episode, certainly not sex
     (which you vaguely remember having before your Buffy fandom). But the thrill
     only lasts a few hours. Soon the restlessness returns and you find yourself
     online, trying to persuade people to talk Buffy to you.

     Shows that come before and after Buffy, as well as commercials during Buffy,
     cause you to scream that WB is cutting your fix with baby powder to lower its
     potency and make an extra buck.

     You are able to support your own habit for fresh Buffy tapes and merchandise by
     selling duplicates of things you already have to new viewers at highly inflated
     prices.

     You seek help from your local priest for your obsession. But he ends up getting
     hooked on the show too, because of its glorification of crosses and holy water.

     Your parents (or spouse) remove the TV and VCR from your home to "do you a
     favor."  But it only drives you to break into your neighbor's homes on
     Monday nights to watch Buffy on their TV's and VCR's.

<snip>



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls 8/? by JJ
Date: 10 Sep 1997 22:27:34 -0400

Part 8
"Dr. Harris?"  Rosita asked, tapping lightly on the door, "Are you in there?"

She swore she could hear the rustling of paper in the office.  She knocked
again, but still uncertain, she used her master key to unlock the door.

Empty.  The rustling she had heard was a breeze from the open window
running across his desktop.  Alex Harris left his computer on at all times
and she saw the "new mail" window on his screen saver.  She walked over to
the computer and opened his mail reader.  New mail from argyles.  Clicking
on the message, she called up a lengthy response describing Aurelius'
treatise on the God of Nine Walls.

"Oh, no you don't!"  she chided the screen, deleting the message.  She
picked up the phone and called the Rosenberg residence.  Gilda Rosenberg
answered.

"You were right; he couldn't leave well enough alone,"  Rosita said.
"Rupert Giles sent him a  message, but I deleted it."

"Good.  If he finds out too much, he'll want to stay and fight.  I know
him,"  Gilda agreed.  "Do you see the poppet?"

Rosita looked around the room for the wax figurine Hecate had brought.
"No," Rosita said.

"Damn," Gilda swore.  "Let's hope he has it, then.  I don't like the idea
of it floating around somewhere."

"I'll keep looking for it,"  Rosita agreed.  "Bye."

She hung up the phone and exited the room, giving it a perfunctory scan.
When the door closed, a brightly colored head stuck itself through the
window, a raucous and high-pitched giggle on its lips.  Scapino's frozen
expression was one of contented joy as he held up the strange wax figure to
the fading evening light.
---
Xander hadn't meant to lose his temper with her, but she had looked so
innocent in her pretty dress...so beautiful.  He had to understand why she
had lied to him and what was going on.  He flinched as she gently touched
his ravaged cheek with the iodine.

"Would you hold still?"  Willow admonished, trying gingerly to dress the cuts.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"They aren't deep enough that you'll need stitches," Willow said, still
shaken by the violence she had unleashed on him.

"So what's the deal?"  he asked.

She sighed, then continued her ministrations.  "The Old Ones apparently
weren't the *Oldest* Ones.  There were things here before them that
frightened them.  Things that they tried to control or to bind.  Before
they left this world, they created the Hellmouth not only as a way for them
to return someday, but also as a ward against something particularly nasty
that they trapped underneath it."

"The God of Nine Walls,"  Xander offered.

Willow was surprised, then realized, "Hecate told you, didn't she?"

"Not much.  Just his name."

She shrugged.  "Anyway, if the Master had succeeded in opening the
Hellmouth 18 years ago, it would have sealed the God within his prison
permanently, but Buffy stopped the Master and it's taken almost two
decades, but the God below is getting antsy."

"So if this guy gets out?"  Xander wondered.

Willow regarded him seriously.  "The Norse believed that the world was made
up of the coils of a serpent wrapped around itself, swallowing its own
tail.  Imagine what would happen if that serpent decided to constrict,
suddenly and very tightly."

"No more world?"  Xander suggested.

She nodded.  "It gets worse."

"Fun."

"Someone's sacrificing to the God.  The girl who died last night was one;
I'm assuming the police commissioner this afternoon is another.  Also, The
Anointed One is also dead.  I felt it."

"How can you be sure?"

"I don't know,"  Willow said, shaking her head uncertainly, "According to
legend, the Old Ones tricked the God to go under the earth with a sacrifice
of the faces of lesser demons who occupied positions of power or authority.
Whoever's killing for him now knows to go after people with power, or
people who represent something larger than themselves.  Melissa Jackson was
the Slayer--there's a whole bunch of stuff tied up into that.  The police
commissioner was Law.  The Anointed One, Evil.  The God of Nine Walls only
needs a few more totemic deaths to power his release."

"So how do we stop him?"

"We don't," she said, warningly, covering the cuts on his face with a gauze
bandage. "I didn't tell you about this because I didn't want you involved."

Xander grimaced.  "Well, I'm involved now.  No way I'm going to let you
face this thing alone."

"Xander, this is not some nice pack of vampires out to cause mischief by
unleashing a couple of scaly, but ultimately harmless demons.  You can't
kill this thing with a stake.  And anyway, I'm not alone," Willow said.
"Hecate's here.  Damn.  I wish you hadn't given her the necklace back."

"You know what it is?  Why did you give it to me in the first place?"

"I know what it is, but I didn't know how to make it work.  I thought you
could find out, being my inside guy in Easterman Anthro/Archaeology,"  she
said, with a playful smile.

"What's the deal with that woman, anyway?"  Xander asked.  "She threatened me."

"Hecate is a goddess," she said, catching Xander's skeptical glance.  "It's
true.  She's got her finger in several supernatural and metaphysical pies:
crossroads, magic, the moon, ghosts...that sort of thing.  But her mortal
form can't hold the power she channels.  So she needs tools; the necklace
contains a large portion of her power.  When we found out about the God's
rising, we had a *disagreement* about how to handle it.  I stole the
necklace in order to keep her from doing something stupid."

"But she's got it back now,"  Xander mused.  "So you think she's planning
on going one-on-one with him?"

Willow shook her head, "No, her sense of self-preservation is too strong.
I think she's going to try to make him go back to sleep, or try to stop
whoever's trying to raise him."

"What were you going to do with the necklace?" Xander asked, curious that
Willow disagreed with such a prudent strategy.

"I was going to nuke him," she said simply.
---
The moon was full that night

The goddess Hecate walked towards the Bronze.  It would have been easier to
have simply created a door and travelled through, but she was uncertain
about where she was going and teleportational magick was tricky if you were
uncertain of your destination.  She had heard of the Bronze.  It was a
California safe house; those who shed blood within its walls invariably met
an unfortunate fate.  Whatever, she thought.  She would negotiate what she
came for and continue on her mission.  About halfway there, she became
aware of the footsteps and tinkling bells behind her.

When she stopped, the soft tread stopped.  When she started, they began
again.  It was clear the one following her was not looking to force a
confrontation.  As she walked, she began to form the spell in her head,
shifting her hands slowly through the air to draw the appropriate sigils.
If what was following her was magickal, it would be stopped by what she was
leaving in her wake.  Suddenly there was a bright flash and an inarticulate
grunt behind her as her stalker set off the "landmine" she had dropped.
She spun around and came upon a short little clown in a colorful costume,
bedazzled by the flash.  His head was hidden by a porcelain mask and a
three-pointed jester's cap, from which dangled small tinkling bells.

"You aren't strong enough to take me," she said, her finger igniting the
air as she drew her glyph between them.

Scapino, recognizing that he had bitten off more than he could chew, bowed
gracefully, then flipped away, quickly out of sight.

"Freak," she muttered, continuing her walk.  The psycho-clown had been a
surprise;  she thought they all lived in Bangor, Maine.  She heard the loud
music and knew she was near the Bronze.
---
Bob Abercrombie and Chris struggled to lift the manhole cover from the
entrance to the electrical tunnels.  Both were dressed in dark clothes.

"I don't know about this," Abercrombie said, looking up at the imposing
shadow of City Hall.  The face of the town clock looked sternly down at him.

"Listen, Dr. Abercrombie,"  Chris said impatiently, "You're the one who
insisted on coming along with me."

"I just didn't want you to get in trouble,"  Abercrombie argued.  "Maybe we
should go?  After the murder, I'm sure the police are patrolling the area."

"Then we better hurry up,"  Chris said excitedly climbing down the ladder.
When Abercrombie hesitated, he added, "Don't you want lead authorship on
the paper?"

Abercrombie blushed, as the boy descended quickly into the darkness.  Then
with a sigh and a final glance around, Abercrombie turned his flashlight on
and followed..
---
End Part 8





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: DISCLAIMER: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls Part 8/? by JJ
Date: 10 Sep 1997 22:30:43 -0400

Sorry,  I forgot to include this information with my part.

All feedback is appreciated.

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating:  PG-13
Warnings:  Mild language.
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls 9/? by JJ
Date: 12 Sep 1997 19:05:10 -0400

Next part.  Again, some strong violence, I warn you.

Feedback is always welcomed.

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating:  PG-13, R for violence
Warnings:  Mild language, violence and the death of a character
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 9

From the balcony, Angel surveyed the crowd that filled the Bronze.  In 18
years it had changed little.  Still run down, still filthy, but oddly
comforting.  The patronage was different, but still infused with the joy of
youth and innocence, yet tainted by something desperate and lost.
Something was coming.  Angel could sense it, and the thrashing bodies below
throbbed with the energy of a last burst of life before the end.

Three girls had already hit on him, practically opening their veins, but he
had gently deflected the attention.  He needed the noise of humanity; he
didn't need its companionship.  He had heard of the Anointed One's death,
and it had reminded him of Buffy.  At least the bastard who destroyed her
was dead.  He tried to quell the pain of memory by returning to places that
recalled happier times.  They had been at the Bronze 12 years ago, when she
was 22.  She told him that night that she was ready, he remembered,
recalling the smell and taste of her and her ecstatic pleasure that first
time.

A gentle tap on the shoulder startled him.  He tensed, turning around,
wondering how someone had snuck up on him.  It was another woman, eying him
with a clarity as if she could see his thoughts.  "Are you Angle?" she
asked.

"No," he answered, tersely, turning back towards his view, but the woman
didn't leave, instead taking the spot next to him.

"This place is pretty neat," she said, scrutinizing the crowd.  "I'm trying
to find a vampire named Angle.  Have you seen him?  Are you hunting?"

Surprised by her frankness, he looked at her, "Who are you?"

She smiled, "I'm your goddess."

He smirked.  "That's a new one."

She ignored him, continuing blithely, "Well, I shouldn't say I'm just
yours.  I'm many people's goddess and I'm a goddess of many things, but I'm
not the only one.  Are you sure you haven't met a vampire named Angle?
He's supposedly very cute, but I'm really a bad judge of those sorts of
things."

Angel was becoming very annoyed with the woman.  "I've heard of a vampire
named Angel," he said.

"That's kind of girly," she answered, her brow creasing in concern.  "Is he
gay?  Are you sure it isn't 'Angle'?"

Angel turned abruptly towards her, "Why the hell are you looking for
Angle..."  He stopped himself, "Angel."

Suddenly she wasn't there anymore, just a bottomless expanse of night and
moonlight.  He blinked.  The woman was back, smiling at him secretively.
"Who are you?" he asked again.

"I told you.  I'm *your* goddess.  You must be Angel," she said.
---
Xander and Willow walked quickly from his car to the Bronze.  "So let me
get this straight,"  Xander repeated, "You were going to try to destroy
something older than the planet?"

Willow nodded as they approached the bouncer.  "It's all well and good if
Hecate stops him from rising, but he'll still be there.  Under the earth,
waiting for his next turn at bat.  The line has to be drawn here and now.
Somehow, the Hellmouth isn't holding him back anymore.  The world is
changing too quickly for us to take the chance that whoever's alive next
time can stop him."

"There's no guarantee that we can stop..." Xander began, but Willow shushed
him as they came within earshot of the bouncer.  The two of them handed $10
each to the burly man at the door, who eyed the 34 year old man and his 16
year old "date" with some suspicion.

As they walked into the club, Willow felt keenly nostalgic.  Eighteen years
and the damn place still looked the same.  She was nervous about seeing
Angel.  He also fell into the category of things she hadn't seen in 18
years, and the memory of the bittersweet kiss that had ended their
association in Paris made her feel strangely warm.  She turned to Xander,
"Okay, here's the deal with the Bronze," she said, quickly, "Whatever you
do, don't spill anyone's blood; so long as you don't do that it should
protect you."

"Willow, I think you remember all the people who've been killed in here.
How can you say that the Bronze can protect us?"  Xander asked, as the
throng pushed the two of them closer together.

"And where are their killers?"  she replied.

Xander thought about it.  "I see your point," he concurred, perplexed by
the passively-aggressive defenses of the club.  A passing teenage girl in a
short, short dress  grabbed his butt and licked her lips as she headed
towards the bar.  "Mmm mmm, gotta get me some of that," she purred,
glancing back at him as she walked away.  His eyes trailed after her.

"Hey, Daddy Harris," Willow chided, turning his bandaged face towards her.
"Focus.  We're trying to prevent the meeting of the Beast from Sunnydale
and Greece's Greatest Evil, remember?"

"Where were girls like that when I was sixteen?"  he complained, something
of the horny adolescent emerging in his voice.

"Biting the heads off of virgins," Willow observed, dragging him towards
the center of the room.  She told him to keep an eye out for Angel, as she
extended her senses, looking that slight glow that distinguished the living
from the unliving.

She finally caught it.  Up on the balcony.  But it was too late.  Angel and
Hecate had met, and they were both looking down at her.

Without breaking eye contact, she touched Xander and pointed up at them.
---
It was Willow.  Angel looked again.  Yes, definitely Willow, who was
looking at him now, disapprovingly.

"Well, look who's here,"  Hecate sighed, waving for the trepidatious pair
on the dance floor to join them.  Willow and Xander slowly made their way
to the staircase.

"What's she doing here?"  Angel asked, recovering his composure.

Hecate didn't answer as Willow and Xander approached.  The four people
stared at each other silently.

"Angel," the professor said.

"Willow,"  the goddess said.

"Xander,"  the vampire said.

"Hecate,"  Willow said.

There was another lengthy, uncomfortable silence.  Willow finally spoke,
"Angel, it's nice to see you."

Angel nodded, a small smile on his lips as his body visibly relaxed.

"No warm hellos?"  Hecate asked, fingering the pendant hanging around her neck.

Willow's eyes narrowed, as the corner of mouth began to twitch.  "I suppose
you think you're very clever, Crone?"  she asked.

"'Crone,' is it?"  Hecate said, amused.  "I am very clever.  I haven't
survived over two millenia by being stupid, little girl.  I would keep that
in mind if you intend to survive the next few days."

Willow nodded, her eyes cynically brittle.  "Then I guess we do things your
way?"

"I don't understand why *you're* mad,"  the goddess said testily.  "You
stole from me, remember?  It's lucky I got this back before your
foolishness lost the battle."

"And if we lose the war?"  Willow retorted.  "It's not like any of us are
getting any younger, and the God below will only get stronger unless we
destroy him now."

"Sometimes you can't destroy the darkness, you just chase it away until the
candle burns out,"  Hecate explained, but Willow was unconvinced.

"We could open the Hellmouth?"  Hecate suggested, without acrimony.  "That
would stop him.  Do you think that's an option?"

Xander intervened, "Um.  Should we be fighting?  I assume we're all on the
same side here."

Hecate's eyes broke away from Willow's.  She favored him with a brilliant
smile.  "Of course, Alexander."  She turned back to Willow, "Will you help
me?"

"Since I'm here, I guess I might as well," Willow said, mildly annoyed.

Hecate grinned.  "You know I'm right."

"Could someone please explain what's going?" Angel asked.

Hecate nodded.  "I think it's time we laid all the cards out.  There's
god-stoppin' that needs a'doin'."
----
Mayor Snyder walked to his car.  It was a little after 10 pm and he knew
his wife would have gone to bed by now.  It was getting harder and harder
to talk to her; it had been hard enough as a principal's wife, but she had
been very reluctant to be a mayor's wife.  She had vaguely talked about
other couples' divorces recently, but he had pretended not to understand
what she meant.  He did love her, but he loved his work too, and if it came
to choice, he was unsure what he would do.  He got into his car, then
smiled.  He would get her flowers on the way home tonight.  If she was
asleep, he'd wake her up.  Suddenly he heard a loud thud on the roof of the
car, as if something heavy fell on top of it.  He was startled by the
sound, which was followed by the gentle tinkling of bells.  He looked
around desperately, trying to identify the thing that was crawling across
his roof, screaming as a face suddenly appeared in his front windshield.
No, not a face.  A porcelain mask, frozen in a gruesome rictus of a smile.

The Prince of the Autopsy drew his gloved fist up and brought it down on
the glass, shattering it into the car.  Snyder's hands flew up to protect
his face, but Scapino's hand grabbed the back of his head, dragging him
forward and impaling the Mayor's throat on the broken glass of the
windshield.  As the Mayor gurgled on the blood that seeped onto the
dashboard, he reached up and grabbed the jester's cap on Scapino's head,
trying to force the demon away but instead pulling off a tiny bell at the
tip.  Finally, he stopped struggling as his life bled away.  Mayor Snyder
was dead.

The Prince of the Autopsy giggled, pulling out his scalpel and getting to work.
----
End Part 9





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Matthew Wahoske" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC:  A Fresh Start (5/5)
Date: 13 Sep 1997 17:47:12 -0500

TITLE: A Fresh Start (5/5)
AUTHOR: Matthew J. Wahoske
EMAIL: [e-mail]
DISTRIBUTION: Anya only.  All others ask permission.
RATING: PG-13.  Some violence.  Character killed.
SYNOPSIS:  Buffy's not quite herself after being resurrected.
After almost staking Angel at the Spring Fling, the rest of the
night passes in a blur.  Now it's the Monday of finals week, and
Buffy goes off to get help from Giles (now located in the
computer lab), with Xander following behind.  In the lab, she
learns that Giles and Ms. Calendar have given the Master's
skeleton to Angel for safe keeping.  She is incensed at this,
when Ms. Calendar tells the others that Brother Luca has sent a
new prophecy that details how Buffy now has the powers of two
slayers.  The old Buffy is gone forever, replaced by a new
persona.  Willow is apprehensive about this, while Xander tries
to reassure her.  Buffy heads off to Willow's to study and also
to meet her new love, Xander.  After she sees Buffy kissing
Xander, Willow tells Xander of her love for him.  Things don't
go well, however, and by the end of the next day Willow is
depressed and wandering the cemetery while Buffy is out hunting
for Angel.
SPOILERS:  "The Pack", "Angel", "Nightmares", and "Prophecy Girl"
in particular.  The whole first season, in general.
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon's fertile mind, Mutant Enemy, 20th
Century Fox, and Warner Bros. own these characters, not me.


Buffy walked quickly through the deserted streets of Sunnydale,
armed with a full complement of stakes and a sense of purpose -
to get rid of Angel once and for all.  She knew exactly where he
was; the sixth sense that had developed since her resurrection
easily pinpointed his location.  *Once this task is completed, I
can finally rest for a while - at least until the next exam in
the morning.*

A rustle in the hedge alongside the sidewalk caught Buffy's
attention.  *Will he never learn?*  She stopped and crept up
alongside it.  Suddenly she reached through to the other side
and caught hold of something, pulling it back through the hedge.

A startled Xander plopped on the cement in front of her.
"Xander, you must be the worst spy in existence.  I've known you
were following me ever since I left my house.  I put up with it
for a while, but now I'm about to go to work.  Please - go away.
I'll meet you afterwards."

Xander decided to at least attempt a protest.  "But, Buff, won't
you need me around for moral support?  I can cheer from the
sidelines."  It was a lame idea, and he knew it.  But he was
worried that Buffy was too confident with her newfound strength.
Someone should be there to help her, even if it wasn't really
much help at all.

"Yeah, sure.  Then I can help keep you from getting killed when
the vampires home in on your position."  Buffy started to walk
away, but Xander kept up with her.  They soon reached the
entrance to the cemetery.  "Xander, I don't want you around when
I'm out slaying.  I care too much about you.  Now are you going
to leave, or will I have to force you?"

 Xander stood his ground.  "Buffy, I care about you the same
way.  I'm not going to leave you alone."

Suddenly, a scream rang out from the cemetery.  Buffy quickly
turned to Xander.  "Sorry about this, but I don't have time to
argue."  Buffy hit Xander on the jaw with a devastating blow
from her right hand.   He fell to the ground with a thud.  *I'm
getting pretty good at that,* thought Buffy as she quickly
placed Xander behind some shrubs and ran into the darkness.


As she approached the mausoleum where the scream emanated from,
Buffy saw a figure bending over a still female form.  Was it -
yes, it was Willow!  *Typical.  Just as clueless as Xander.
Haven't they learned to stay inside in this town when it's
dark?*  The figure was familiar as well.  "Angel!  Get away from
her, and prepare to die!"  She rushed at him, with a stake in
one hand and holy water in another.

Angel barely had time to dodge her attack.  "Buffy, it's not
what you think.  I must have scared her.  She turned around,
screamed, and slipped on the rocks."  Again, he avoided a stake
by inches.

"A likely story.  I don't trust your good deeds anymore, Angel,
even if they are genuine, for now.  You're a time bomb waiting
to go off.  Sooner or later, you'll return to your true nature -
a merciless demon whose only reason for existence is to kill the
living.  I can't afford to take a chance and wait until that
happens."  Having paused to deliver her speech, Buffy now
redoubled her efforts, throwing the full jar of holy water into
Angel's face.  He writhed in agony, clawing at his eyes as if to
gouge them out.

Words came torturously to Angel as he struggled to fend off
Buffy's repeated blows.  He couldn't bring himself to strike
back, even though his continued existence was in danger.  *She
seems to be enjoying this!*  "What have I done to deserve this?
I've never knowingly hurt you.  I couldn't hurt you.  I love
you."

Angel's ernest plea did little to dissuade Buffy.  "Sure you
love me.  You love me so much that Xander had to force you to
come help me when I was dying.  Oh, yes, he told me all about
it!"  Quicker and quicker came Buffy's furious attack.  Angel
was now bowed and bent, with bones broken all over his frame.

The relentless onslaught caused Willow to stir.  With a groan,
she slowly sat upright and strained to see the battle that had
aroused her.  She could barely make out Buffy raising a stake
and thrusting it down onto - Angel?!  She screamed.  "Buffy,
no!!"

It was too late.  The stake had pierced Angel's heart.  "I will
always love you,"  he gasped.  The next moment, his body turned
to ashes, which scurried away in the wind.

Willow was stunned.  It took her a while to regain her voice.
"Buffy - you killed Angel, after all he did for us?"

Buffy knelt down by Willow and made sure she was all right.
"Believe me, Willow, if I hadn't killed him, you'd have been
sorry sooner or later."

Willow pushed herself away from Buffy.  "I can't believe that.
He helped us defeat the Master.  He had a human soul.  He loved
you, and you repay him by killing him?  Have you lost all
emotion and feeling, Buffy?  Don't you care for anyone anymore?"

Buffy stood alone, the night pressing around her, her face hard
and passionless.  "Sometimes its dangerous to care too much for
someone, Will.  Every time I met Angel, I could feel the demon
within him was getting stronger.  I ignored it because of my
feelings for him.  After my death, I put my duties as the Slayer
ahead of everything else.  The extra power I had received would
go to waste if I did otherwise.  I had to kill him, Will, or he
would have killed us one day. It's that simple."

Willow's head had cleared by now.  She gingerly stood up, still
not willing to totally believe Buffy's version of events.  Angel
had done too much for them to be dismissed so easily.  In
addition, there was another topic that came between them, one
that Willow knew she had to bring up.  "What's the simple story
about Xander, Buffy?  You knew I loved him, yet you went after
him without any hesitation. You don't seem to be worrying about
caring too much for him."

Buffy sighed.  *Xander again?  I thought I explained that to you
last night.*  "I must admit I have a weakness for him.  I can
understand why you love him as well.  He might act foolish most
of the time, but underneath you know he would follow you to the
ends of the earth, into whatever problem you might get into."
Willow slowly nodded her head.  "He saved my life, Will, and put
his own in danger.  That alone would deserve my gratitude, but
he deserves so much more.  I have no regret for revealing my
true feelings towards him, even though I know that you were hurt
by it.  He's the one I'm fighting evil for, Will; the person who
keeps what little sanity I have intact.  I won't allow anything
to happen to him anymore.  I have to make sure that I don't need
his help again."

Willow didn't say a word.  It was obvious that nothing she did
or said would make Buffy give up Xander.  She resigned herself
to her fate.  *I guess it's time to get on with my life and find
someone else to love.  Lord knows how long that will take.*

Buffy stared at Willow.  "I won't blame you if you decide to
stop hanging out with me from now on, Will.  It's up to you.
I'll be out here every night whether you're with me or not."
Buffy walked away towards the entrance to the cemetery.  "Now,
I'd better wake Xander."

Willow followed after her.  "Wake Xander?  Don't tell me he
could sleep while you killed Angel."  *Yes, killed him.*  Willow
would never forget that.

"No, quite the opposite.  I'm afraid I had to hit him in order
to prevent him from following after me."  Buffy pulled Xander's
inert frame out of the shrubs and started to revive him.

Willow immediately knelt by Xander's side, but a look from Buffy
caused her to shrink further away.  Xander slowly came around.
"Buffy?  Something must have hit me."  He paused, trying to
collect his jumbled thoughts.  "Wait a minute, you hit me!  What
in the hell did you do that for?  My face will be scarred for
life."  He knew Buffy had only hit him because she felt it was
necessary to protect him, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy
it.  He turned to his side and noticed someone else looking at
him from a distance.  "Willow?  What are you doing here?  Hey,
that reminds me.  Angel.  What happened to him?"  He noticed
Willow cringe.

Buffy cradled Xander in her arms.  "You won't have to worry
about him any more.  He is no longer among the living - or the
undead."

Xander stared at Buffy.  "You staked him?  Just like that?  Do
you do that to all your ex-boyfriends?  I'd better stay on your
good side, just in case."   Buffy held him tighter.  Xander had
never cared for Angel, but he was slightly upset that he was
gone.  *Angel did help us, after all.*  He noticed Willow
walking away.  *On the whole, though, I'm more worried about
Willow.  She seems really out of things.*  "Hey Willow!  Don't
you want us to see you back home?"

Willow shook her head.  "That's OK, Xander.  I don't want to
disturb you while you're busy."  She kept on walking into the
darkness.

"Will she be all right, walking home by herself?"  Xander
started to get up to follow her but found himself unable to
stand just yet.

"Don't worry, Xander, I can't feel any other demons or vampires
around.  She'll be fine.  You, on the other hand, are going to
require some special treatment which only I can give you."
Buffy gave Xander a tender kiss on his neck.  "That's only the
sample.  When we get back to your place, I'll give you the full
remedy."   Part of Xander felt guilty for abandoning Willow, but
the rest quickly gave in to the thought of spending some quality
time with Buffy.  *Hey, if I could like Buffy when she was a
vampire, I can put up with her when she's a little psycho.  I'll
have to make sure I talk to Willow sometime tomorrow, though.*

Buffy helped Xander to his feet and pointed him in the direction
of his house.   The couple stayed close together as they walked
away from the cemetery.


Friday afternoon had finally come.  No more exams!  It was the
end of the school year and the start of the freedom of summer.
Buffy and Xander had somehow survived the last few days of tests
without Willow's help.  She had withdrawn into a shell, even
refusing to talk to Xander when he had approached her two days
ago.

One final visit was necessary before the school year could be
declared officially over.  Buffy and Xander had to say goodbye
to Giles, even though they both knew that they would probably
see him many times over the vacation.  As they entered the
computer lab, they were surprised to see, along with Giles and
Ms. Calendar, the one person they had thought wouldn't return to
the group - Willow.

"Giles said he needed my help.  I couldn't turn him down,"
Willow said in answer to their unasked question, not looking
directly at them.

"Yes, I don't know what I'd do without Willow to help me with my
research.  It just wouldn't be the same."   Giles looked
pointedly at Buffy.  "I suppose you have come to say farewell.
Let me remind you, Buffy, that the forces of evil do not take a
summer vacation.  I expect you to meet me at my house on Monday
morning to continue your training.  Just because you have twice
the power now doesn't mean you have twice the technique."

Buffy was annoyed.  *He's been on me ever since I told him about
Angel.*  "I'm not stupid, Giles.  I know the Anointed One is
still here, and he's bound to rally the vampires that are left
around him.  Hopefully, it will take some time for him to do
that."

"It's unfortunate that you destroyed the one person who might
have been able to give us some inside information on what the
Anointed One was up to."  Giles's anger subsided.  "However, I
don't want to revisit that argument.  Just take care, and stay
alert."

"You have a good summer yourself, Giles."  Buffy turned to Ms.
Calendar.  "Take good care of him when we aren't around."  Buffy
whispered in her ear.  "Maybe you could help him with his dress
sense."  Ms. Calendar nodded, giving Buffy a conspiratorial
look.  "By summer's end, he'll be the height of fashion."  Buffy
didn't share her opinion.  *Fighting the Master again would be
easier than trying to change Giles into a fashion model.*

As was her custom, Buffy made one last comment before she left.
"Oh, and Giles, try to find a way to get rid of the Master's
skeleton soon.  I don't feel like keeping watch outside your
house all night long.  I doubt Ms. Calendar would like that very
much."  With a smile, Buffy started to leave, making a quick
glance towards Willow.  "See you, Will."  There was no reply.
Buffy shrugged and left the room followed shortly afterwards by
Xander.

Xander had tried to engage Willow in a discussion, but she had
ignored him.  *Obviously it's going to take some time before she
forgives me, if ever.  I'll keep trying, though.  Maybe one day
we can return to being friends.*  As Buffy and Xander left the
school, and started to go down the front steps, hand in hand,
Xander reflected on all the changes that had taken place in the
past week.  *Buffy loves me, Willow hates me, Angel's gone,
along with the Master, and school is finished for the summer.
It's a fresh start, and I'm not sure it's for the better.*

From the school, Willow watched her two former friends walk into
the hazy sunlight of a summer afternoon.  With a sigh, she
turned away from the window, went back to the computer, and
returned to her work.

The End.

Well, that's it.  Let me know what you think!  Feedback desired.
Since this is a beta version, any suggestions on grammar etc.
are appreciated.




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Some Teenager's Blood
Date: 14 Sep 1997 00:09:06 -0700

This song reminds me of our dearly departed
brother, Jesse (a moment of silence...).
Meaning Xander's friend, Jesse, of course, not
our own beloved fanfic mage, Mr. Jou (who is
said to be immune to the siren calls of
vampires; we've tested him).   Lisa

-----------------------

SOME TEENAGER'S BLOOD

(To the tune of "Somebody to Love" by the Jefferson Airplane)

When your vampire date
Slowly sucks you dry
And all the soul
Within you dies

Chorus:

      Don't you want some teenager's blood?
      Don't you need some teenager's blood?
      Wouldn't you love some teenager's blood?
      You better score some teenager's blood!

When the last of you
Has finally gone ghoul
Won't you want to fish
In the Bronze pool?

Chorus

Your eyes, I say your eyes
Sorta look the same
But when Luke calls
Will your face be game?

Chorus

Blood is dripping
All around your heels
And your friends, your friends
They start to look like meals...

Chorus


(Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose;
title inspired by Allison T. & Christine M.)



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: Re: BUFFYFIC: Stakin' It to the Streets, indeed.  How about
Date: 14 Sep 1997 00:25:42 -0700

Highly delayed response...

At 06:16 PM 8/24/97 -0400, slb wrote:

>At  6:06 PM 8/24/97 -0400, Jesse Jou wrote: "
>>Buffy" (sung to the tune of Looking Glass's "Brandy")
>ROTFL! I liked Lisa's Doobie Brothers tune, too.
>
>So, anyone up for a NIN tune? <g>

NIN?  Well, we could parody their cover of the old Joy
Division classic, "Dead Souls" (from The Crow soundtrack).
But it would kinda be like shooting fish in a barrel...

Lisa




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Anya <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Great Debate (1/1) by Anya
Date: 14 Sep 1997 10:48:46 -0400

The Great Debate
By Anya
[e-mail]

Willow wearily sighed, running a hand through the long,
tangled mess of her hair.  She had pulled it together and
clipped it up high on her head earlier, but it still had
turned into a mess as the day progressed.

Cordelia was a menace to society.  Her prowess at shopping
was unparalleled, and her skill at dictating to other's
actions...*brrr*.  "Visa really loves me, now."  Willow
mumbled. "$578.84 on the shoes alone!  And she only made me
buy eight pairs.   College fund?  What College fund?  Mom's
going to just die when the bill gets in."

Looking at the massive pile of shopping bags still cluttered
in the front hallway, she allowed her shoulders to slump in
defeat.  The part of her mind that encouraged
procrastination was given rare free rein.  "They can wait
'till later," she thought.  With a large yawn, she  pulled
her exhausted body around and back up the stairs to her
room.

Leaning against the wall, she debated just flopping on the
bed.  It looked so soft, comfortable, warm and inviting.  It
practically sang out it's siren song of
"sleep....sleep...deep, dreamless sleeeeeeep!"

But, the "You have Mail!" voice chimed from the softly
purring computer across the room.  Ever the cyber-junky,
Willow went for the computer.
A light tap of the mouse pulled off the screen saver, and
she immediately clicked the mail icon.

Fishing her computer chair out from under the piles of bags
that HAD made it upstairs, she flopped down and waited for
all the messages to download.  After a few moments of simply
starring at the white screen, she began to count along  with
the little box receiving messages, and by the time they
finished at 143, she felt remarkably calm.

Ten of the messages were from Angel and Xander.  Those two
had bonded as a result of the fanfic fiasco.  It was a good
thing, Willow mused.  Much better than watching them watch
one another with a great deal of venom.  The subject for all
ten of their message, though, convinced her to delete first,
and ask later.  If they needed her in the library that
badly, Buffy had trashed another system.

Several messages were from the mailing lists, and she read
those leisurely.  Towards the end was a message from Biohaz,
another from Anya, and a few personal messages from some of
her fav authors.  Moving the mouse, she clicked on Biohaz's
message.

"Hey Will...

Totally amazing, but I did check the number of hits like you
asked me to.  Wow!  The Archive has had 2010 hits yesterday,
2116 hits the day before, and averages well over 1800 per
day for the previous week!  Doing the quick math, we are
probably exceeding 60000 visitors a month!  Kewl!

Oh, and hey, I was wondering how you are at setting up CGI
scripts, as well as the fancier shenanigans of Javascript
and html.  I could use some advice, 'cause Anya and I are
trying to set up a "classification" project for the stories,
and it's rather complex!  E me if you can help!

Later
-Alex"

Her head wobble side to side as she mulled this over.  "I
need more details."  She muttered, carefully filing this
message away so that she could reply later..when feeling
more rational!

The next one, from Anya was done as a mini-fic, and Willow
snickered her way through it before hitting the end message.

"Hi Willow!

I hope that brought a smile to your face!  I know things
have been rough with Buffy and crew.  She emails me at least
ten times a day looking for more stories like what she
wrote!  I can only IMAGINE how she pesters you!

I've been wondering...is she okay?  I mean, this is somewhat
obsessive, and I can't see it being part of a Slayer's
nature.  Maybe you should see if something is INFLUENCING
them all to act like this!"

Willow blinked twice, surprised.  Maybe there was something
to this!  Buffy WAS acting out of character in these
frequent temper tantrums, and Giles loathed computers, why
would he suddenly get hooked?  Hmmm...  She read on.

"I've placed a survey on the archive.  It was suggested that
the stories be uploaded as "text" documents, and not HTML.
I'm REALLY torn about this subject, as I feel "text" clashes
with the polished look of the archive..but if that's what
the majority wants, that's what the majority will get!

Anyway, could you please let me know YOUR feelings on the
subject?  At present, it stands at 68% want the stories in
text version.  I'm REALLY concerned about what the writers
want, though.  A lot of the writers whose email addy's I
recognize by sight have voted "no", but I need to know for
sure that switching to text is what people want!

I'm going to do a "test" batch of the stories as .txt files,
tell me what you think, please?!

Thanks!
-Anya

P.S.  She's slaying computers now?  Because of the
archive?!?  Drugs, I'm telling you..she's on hallucinogens
or something! "


Willow smiled, and clicked over to her browser and
bookmarks.  "Hmm..I hope the writers for the archive can
take the time to reply, since it's their stories it affects,
and Anya'll go by their decisions!"

She rolled her head back and to the side and mused the great
"Buffy" question, as the archive downloaded.   Maybe some
private research was warranted after all...they did live on
the Hellmouth..anything WAS possible.

'Sides, if she could get Buffy, Xander, Giles and Angel back
to normal..she could return the "Cordelia approved
wardrobe", keep her college fund, and stop having to fix the
computers Buffy kept trashing.

A smiling playing on her lips, Willow leaned forward,
suddenly eager again to deal with the world.

The End.



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (by way of [e-mail])
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Weapon:  Part X/X
Date: 15 Sep 1997 01:06:24 -0400

Title:  The Weapon
Rating:  R.  Graphic descriptions of acts of violence.  Some language.
Summary:  As chapter IX drew to a close, we were met with a shocking
revelation:  Xander's the Weapon, and everything that's happened has been a
plot to get him to Karakis.
Disclaimer:  Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Angel are the property of Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox.  The rest is mine.  Touch it
and I'll break yo' fingers.
Distribution:  Anyone previously given permission to use my fic can use
this too, as long as I'm given proper credit.  Note that I'd like my real
name, C.M. Koch, to be included alongside my nick when I'm given credit for
a piece.
*****

Xander didn't believe what he was hearing.  As he pulled at Karakis' giant
fingers, fighting for his breath, he denied it to himself.  *He* was the
Weapon?  Yeah, right.  He didn't have any powers, any abilities.  He was
just a mortal man.  There was nothing special about *him*.

"Bullshit." he choked out, as Karakis' tightened his grip ever so slightly.
"Oh no Alexander," replied the Demon Lord, "it's completely true.  The
Sphere is simply a tool, a machine.  No more powerful than the one who
wields it.  Why did you think it became more powerful through the years you
kept it?  Your spirit had a certain inner strength when you first arrived
in my world.  A decade of battle and hardship hardened it.  Your connection
to the Sphere tempered it.  And you joining with the Sphere scant hours
ago, that complete merging on  planes both spiritual and physical, that was
the final step."  Karakis grinned.  "You'll never know what power you had
trapped within you, Alexander.  And soon that power will be mine again, for
the thousandth time."
"You'll never..." gasped Xander, "have my strength."
"You don't seem to understand," said Karakis, as he brought Xander's face
to his, "this has happened before, nine-hundred and ninety-nine times.  You
yourself know of Purgatory's muddled timestream.  I've killed you time and
again, stuck in an infernal loop.  I've live the same ten years for the
last ten-thousand.  All because of you.  Your coming here, your death at my
hands, it sealed this paradox.  And your death at my hands, for the
thousandth time, will break it."  As Karakis spoke, a faint green glow
began emanating from above him.  Xander watched as the light grew in
intensity, 'till it seemed an emerald star shined above him.  Karakis smiled.
"Look," he said to Xander, turning, and holding him up towards the glow,
"look onto your *destiny*."

Xander instinctively flinched away from the seemingly blinding light.  But
his eyes quickly adjusted, and he was able to gaze into it.  The light
glowed mightily, but seemed restrained.  It was then that he noticed what
held it.  It seemed to be imprisoned within a massive glass bottle.  For a
moment, Xander wondered at how something so fragile could hold something so
obviously powerful.  Then, he saw it.  Within the light, was a face.  His
face.  He saw it again, and again... his own screaming face, nigh a
thousand times over.  And the memories returned.  Memories of his death, of
seeing Karakis destroy him.  Memories that had been hidden, locked away.
Whether by his own mind or by foul magicks, it didn't matter.  What
mattered was that he knew he was going to die.

"Yesss..." hissed Karakis, licking his lips, "I can feel it, your
resignation.  You know what I say to be true."
"I may die," Xander growled, "but *you* won't survive the night."
"Oh," replied Karakis, mock apologetic, "I'm afraid I will.  With your
death, I will hold the power of a thousand times one.  A thousand times the
power of your soul.  With that, I will not only shatter this paradox, I
will break the barriers between this world, yours, and the dark beyond.
All three shall join, and I shall be the king of this new world.  I shall
be its god!"

Karakis paused, turning Xander away from the light and releasing him,
allowing him to float directly before him.

"And now," spoke the demon lord coldly, as he crossed his arms in front of
himself, "it's time that I achieve divinity."  Slowly, Karakis began to
pull his arms away from each other.  Xander could feel an invisible force
tugging at him, pulling him in two directions at once.  The further
Karakis' arms moved, the stronger the force became.  Xander could feel the
tension being applied to his body.  Blood began to trickle from his eyes,
his nose.  He found it nigh impossible to breathe, his lungs atrophying.
Karakis paused, one fist over the other, as Buffy, Angel, and Willow rushed
into the chamber.

"You're too late fools," rasped the demon lord, "too late."
"Xander," the dying warrior managed to choke out, "the Sphere..."  Then,
with one sudden, violent motion, Karakis yanked his arms apart, spreading
them wide.  Almost instantaneously, the warrior burst, as if pulled in a
thousand ways at once.  26 year old Alexander Harris was now a mess of torn
flesh, blood, and shattered bone.  A gory stew splattered about the room.


"NO!!" howled Buffy, hurling herself at the Demon Lord.  With a wave of his
hand, he deflected her, sending her hurtling across the room, where she
slammed into the wall with a wet thud.  Angel growled ferally, but held
back, gauging his opponent.  Willow, catching sight of the *living* Xander,
rushed to his side.

"Now," muttered Karakis, while looking quickly about the room, "where are
you..."  Suddenly, his hand lashed out, snatching at nothingness.  He
chuckled, and opened his fist.  In his palm lay a bright green spark.

"Hello Alexander," he whispered, smiling.  With a gentle motion, he ushered
the spark towards the glass sphere which held the light.  Then, with a
sudden motion, he forced it through.  A loud thunderclap echoed throughout
the chamber.  As it faded, another sound could be heard.  The sound of
Karakis' laughter.  The Demon Lord spread his arms wide to accept his new
power.  Green lightning leapt from the delicate globe above him, and he was
encompassed in an emerald flame.

"FREE!" bellowed the Demon Lord, cackling with wicked glee as the power
flooded him, "FINALLY FREE!!  AND SOON, ALL THE WORLDS SHALL BE MINE!"

Without warning, Angel struck, rushing under Karakis and slashing his blade
deep into his ribs.  The Demon Lord growled in pain, and clutched the
wound.  It crackled briefly with eldritch energy, then closed.  Slowly,
Karakis turned towards the vampire.  He extended his arm towards Angel,
then quickly closed his hand into a fist.  With a painfully audible wet
crack, Angel's ribs snapped, and he collapsed to the floor.  Karakis moved
towards the vampire, but stopped short and screamed in pain.  Buffy, blood
trickling down her forehead, slowly pulled her sword out of the monster's
back.

All this time, Willow had been working at Xander's chains, while he sat
there, silent, unmoving.  Finally, she grew exasperated.

"Screw it." she said, and drew one of her Barettas.  With a few well placed
shots, Xander was free of his bonds.
"C'mon," she urged, as she snapped a new clip into the firearm, "we gotta
go!"  Xander simply sat there, unresponding, showing no recognition that
Willow even existed.
<He's in shock,> she realized, as she tried to help the boy up.  Then she
heard a scream.  Quickly spinning to the source of the sound, she saw that
Karakis had his hand around Buffy's throat, and was squeezing.  Hard.  The
twin Barettas practically leapt into Willow's hands, and she began firing.
Karakis grunted in pain as the bullets slammed into his body.  With little
effort, he tossed the Slayer away, and turned his attentions to the plain
mortal wench who dared harm him.

Through all, Xander watched.  He watched as Willow continued to fire,
emptying both clips into the lumbering Demon Lord's body.  He watched as
Karakis', with a mere gesture, brought Willow to him.  And he watched as
that monster closed his hand around her delicate throat, and laughed.
Slowly, Xander reached out, closing his hand around the dull grey metal
sphere beside him.  His eyes seemed to suddenly come alive, dancing with a
flame of unbridled rage.

"Lets see how you do without your battery," Xander muttered.  Then, with
one fluid movement, he leapt to his feet, and hurled the Sphere with all
his might.  Karakis saw, but too late.  The Sphere slammed into the
delicate glass globe, punching a hole in it.  Throughout the room was heard
a low rumble.  A lattice work of cracks appeared across the surface of the
globe, as the emerald light with grew in intensity.  Suddenly, violently,
the sphere exploded, and Karakis was struck by the vengeance of a thousand
times one.  Innumerable arcing daggers of green energy struck him in rapid
succession, shattering his life force.  The once-mighty Demon Lord dropped
Willow, and collapsed to the ground, naught but a smoking husk.  Xander
stood, and slowly, deliberately, walked towards the body.  Slowly, Willow
picked herself up, and stood by his side.  The wounded Buffy and Angel,
each helping to support the other's weight, soon joined them.

"Nobody," Xander growled harshly, tapping the corpse with his foot, "messes
with my Willow."  He watched as the body slowly crumbled to dust.
"C'mon," ordered the boy, as the emerald energies of a thousand times one
attacked the structure they stood within, "lets go home."  Buffy reached
into her pocket, and drew the small glass sphere, mystically whole after
all the chaos.  With all her strength, she smashed it into the floor,
destroying it.  Moments later, a glowing golden circle surrounded the four
of them, and they were gone, as suddenly as they had come.

*****

With a flash, the four reappeared in the library.

"Thank god," shouted Rupert Giles, as he rushed towards them, "I feared I'd
never see any of you again."  Samantha Calendar just smiled.
"Wait," asked Giles, as he counted the number of those returned, "where's--"
"It's over," Xander interrupted, glaring at the librarian, "that's all that
matters."
Willow watched through teary eyes as Xander marched out of the Library,
leaving the doors to slam sharply behind him.
<The battle's over,> Willow thought, as she stared at the still doors, <but
how long before the wounds heal?>

Silently, Giles and Samantha began to tend to the wounds of Buffy and
Angel.  And as they did so, Willow slowly sank to the floor.  And she cried.

*****

End.

*****

So, didja like?  I reeeeeeealy really hope so!  Feedback, please!

Epilogue is out tomorrow, and my next fic starts soon!

 ------------------ViAsHiNo------------------
|    NOSFERATU PrImE MiNiStEr Of WhUp-@$$!   |
|         kEePeR oF tHe MaStEr'S bOnEs       |
|    MeMbEr MiSs CaLeNdAr'S tEcHnOpAgAnS     |
|"You're not the student, you're the lesson."|
|________________-MaRcIe, IG_________________|






-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Barney's Vampire Initiation Song (Newly Revised)
Date: 14 Sep 1997 22:15:14 -0700

BARNEY'S VAMPIRE INITIATION SONG  (Newly Revised)

(To the tune of "I love you, You love me")

I suck you
You suck me
It's a whole big sucking thing
With a great big bite
And some blood to me from you
Won't you sample my blood too?

Come downstairs
What a thrill!
How come grownups say we kill?
It's a drinking game
And we'll show you how it's played
It's how all our pals are made!

You're real swell!
Time to see
My whole vampire family
Just a few swapped drops
And you'll never grow again
You'll be our eternal friend!


(Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose)

This and other timeless tunes may be found in the
"Traditional Songs" Section of the Little Buffy Site:
   http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls Part 10/? by JJ
Date: 15 Sep 1997 02:07:07 -0400

Next part.  You know the drill.  I don't know that I like this part so any
and all advice would be helpful.

Thanks!

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating:  PG-13
Warnings:  Mild language.
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 10
Angel and Hecate piled into the backseat as the motor roared.  Xander, in
the driver's seat, said, "Where are we going?"

"The town hall,"  Hecate ordered, tapping Willow on the shoulder, "Have you
thought about who could be sacrificing to the god?"

"Miriam's House of Arms,"  Willow suggested, as the car lurched into
motion, "But they'd try to raise him in New Orleans."

"That freak show in Capetown,"  Hecate said, which made Willow shudder.

"No circuses in town.  The Prince of the Autopsy?"  Willow then ventured,
struggling to remember the extant lieutenants of the God of Nine Walls.
The goddess paused.

"Scapino,"  Hecate pondered, then slapped her hand against her forehead.
"Damn!  It's Scapino.  I've seen him!"

Willow threw a concerned look into the backseat, noting that Angel was
silently watching the two women.  "Why didn't you stop him?" she asked.

"It didn't occur to me until now.  He tried to take me.  I thought he was
one of the local beasties,"  Hecate explained.

Xander interrupted.  "For those of us who aren't familiar with this
elaborate world you live in, who the hell is Scapino?"

"Before the Old Ones left this world, they killed many of the God of Nine
Wall's followers to prevent them from trying to free him.  The stronger
ones fled and hid, changing their aspects over time so that they could hide
in plain view,"  Hecate began.

"The Prince of the Autopsy is a particularly violent little sprite.  Very
powerful, but he needs to animate a human form,"  Willow continued.  "If we
can stop the human form, we can stop the Autopsy Prince.  At least until he
can find a new form."

"What I don't understand is why the God took so long to rise,"  Willow
wondered.  "The Master's been dead for 18 years."

"The Anointed One tried to open the Hellmouth 8 years ago,"  Xander
explained.  Willow could feel Angel bristle in the back.

"Whoa, calm down, bat boy," Hecate urged the vampire, then focused again on
Xander.  "This is news to me.  What happened?"

There was a long silence before Xander finally spoke.  "Buffy had to blow
up Sunnydale High School to stop them."

"So why didn't they rebuild the school?"  Hecate asked, prompting Xander to
remember his conversation with his student earlier that day.  He relayed
that information to the group now.  How so many of the murders in recent
history had occurred within a few miles of the school.  How Easterman's
will had insisted that the city hall be moved to the site if the school
were ever destroyed.  How designing the school had made the architect rich
enough to start a private university.

Hecate considered the information.  "He made a deal with the God of Nine
Walls, or with the Old Ones.  I'm guessing the latter.  The school wasn't
just a school; it was a temple."

Willow caught on.  "And the people who were killed there:  Dr. Gregory,
Dave, Emily, Principal Flutie...all of them?"

"Inadvertant sacrifices to the God or to keep the God from waking.  If he
dealt with the Old Ones, again I'm guessing the latter.  When Buffy
destroyed the school, she broke its hold on the God of Nine Walls.  He
hasn't been gathering power over the last 18 years, just over the last 8."

"But why move the municipal building?  And why isn't it stopping the God?"
Xander mused.

"The school was probably Easterman's stronger seal--all that potential for
young, hormonal offerings,"  Willow speculated. "City Hall would represent
Order imposed on Chaos, and in whatever symbolic language the God
understands, maybe Easterman thought it would be enough to discourage him
from emerging."

"So what's the plan?"  Xander asked.

Hecate turned to Angel, "You are going to lead me through the tunnels;  we
need to find the Hellmouth and I'm guessing you know where it is.  We're
going to try to tighten the seal without opening it.  If that doesn't work
and the God rises, then that's where he'll come through and I want to be
the welcome wagon.  Willow will try to stop the Prince.  Alexander, you
drop us off, then leave.  Get out of Sunnydale."

"No, I'm not leaving Willow,"  Xander stated, as the Sunnydale Municipal
Building came into view.

Willow, who had been listening intently to the goddess, touched his hand
gently, then said quietly,. "Xander, do what she tells you."

He pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car, turning towards
Willow.  "You sound like you're not coming back from this."

She averted her eyes from his horrified gaze.  "The line has to be drawn.
If we fail, you'll be the only one left who knew what happened.  You would
have to find the Watchers or the Olodan monks and warn them."

"What about all the people in town?"  Xander asked, his horror growing.

"If we stop the God, then they'll all be safe.  If we lose, it's better
they die in the first wave," Hecate observed.

"You know, you're a really cold bitch,"  Xander responded.

"At least I don't stink of hyena," she snorted derisively

Willow sighed tiredly, popping open her door.  "This is close enough.  No
point in announcing our presence."

Angel finally spoke up.  "There's only one problem."

They all looked at him.

"What if I don't want to help you?" he asked, his tone full of misery.
---
Chris and Bob had wandered the tunnels for a long time, going deeper and
deeper into the earth.  Chris regarded everything with inquisitive awe,
following the delicate layout of electrical wiring under the city.  Bob, on
the other hand, sweated profusely, wiping his forehead on a cloth
handkerchief.  Chris consulted the map of the tunnels in his hands, holding
the flashlight in his mouth.

"What are we looking for?" Bob asked petulantly.

"We'll know it when we find it," Chris answered, taking the flashlight out
of his mouth.  "These tunnels are amazing; they're almost like veins and
arteries."

"I don't think we're going to find anything.  Maybe we should just go back
up..."

"Shh!"  Chris admonished, as they headed further down the tunnel.  "Did you
hear that?"  A couple of tunnels away the muted sound of sobbing could be
heard.  "There's someone down here."

Bob felt a lump rise in his throat.  "Maybe we should go up and call for help."

Chris shook his head, "They could be lost or seriously hurt.  We should
check their status before calling..."

He stopped when his foot hit something solid on the ground.  Pointing his
flashlight downward, he caught the greyish blue fabric of someone's pants
leg.  Behind him, he could hear Dr. Abercrombie catch his breath.  Chris
trailed the light upward, recognizing the colors of Sunnydale Light and
Power.  The man's chest did not move;  Chris assumed he was dead.  The
light fell on the name sewn onto the breast of his jump suit.  Thomas
Cobbe.  Tough luck,  Thomas Cobbe, Chris thought, moving the light up to
his face.  Correction.  What should have been his face was instead a mass
of torn flesh, eyes open wide in abject terror, mouth open in a soundless
scream.

Chris and Bob screamed simultaneously at the grisly sight, both backing up
quickly and breaking into a run towards the surface.  They rounded a sharp
corner and stopped.  There was someone standing there.  Chris shone his
light in the stranger's face.  It wasn't a human face, angular and fey with
yellow eyes and pronounced, sharp teeth.  The vampire raised its hand
against the light, growling threateningly.

"What are you doing here?" it demanded.

Chris was stunned.  "You can talk!" he said, fearfully.

Bob, the sweat dripping rapidly down his face, pleaded, "Please, can you
help us?  There's something back there..."

Something like concern flashed on the vampire's face.  "You shouldn't be
down here.  Our master is dead.  There is none you can turn to."  Its voice
trailed off as a sound of tinkling bells and running feet came rapidly in
their direction.  Chris and Bob wheeled around, pointing their flashlights
at the oncoming sound.  They caught a small figure as it pulled on a
colorful headdress of a jester's cap with a porcelain mask sewn into it.

"What is that?!"  Bob shouted, turning to the vampire, who had run off in
the opposite direction.  In the next instance, Scapino was on him, knocking
him unconscious.  Chris had backed up against the tunnel wall, shining the
light at the short clown who approached him now.

"Please, what do you want?"  Chris asked, as the clown raised its fist.

Then darkness.

end Part 10





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: FILK: 'Twas the Night Before Buffy
Date: 15 Sep 1997 00:21:17 -0700

I really should beg forgiveness for this one -- or be staked at dawn with a
piece of wood soaked in garlic holy water...  <g>

'Twas the Night Before Buffy
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
with apologies and burnt offerings to Clement Clarke Moore
Dedicated to anyone who is happy that rerun hell is ALMOST OVER!!!!

'Twas the night before Buffy, and all through the region
Not a creature was stirring, not even a demon.
The VCRs were all programmed with care
In the hopes that St. Giles soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of vampires danced in their heads.
And Joyce in her kerchief and Hank in his cap
Were just waking up from a long summer nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my computer to see what was the matter.
Away to the Windows I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash...

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature Slayer, and five Slayerettes!
With a British librarian so stuffy and guiless.
I knew in a moment it must be St. Giles.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name
"Now, Amy, now Catherine, now Kyle and Darla!
On Master, on Marci, on Spike and Drucilla!

"To the top of the roof, to the top of the wall
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all."
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew
With a sleigh full of kids, and St. Giles too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the veranda
The squabbling and arguing of each young member.
As I drew in my head and was turning around
In through the door St. Giles came with a crowd.

He was dressed all in tweed, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all tarnished with library paste and dust.
And a Slayer came with him, followed by five Slayerettes.
For a vampire was here, and I wasn't laying any bets.

His eyes -- how yellow-gleamed!  His fangs, how shiny!
His cheeks were like tombstones, his nose a trifle bony!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow.
Waiting to taste the blood of the inhabitants below.

The length of a stake she held tight in her hand
While Xander and Angel gave her backup in their band.
She had a fancy hairdo and a tight little skirt
That amazingly went nowhere, no matter the work.

She was intense and scary, a right capable young Slayer.
And I shivered when I saw her, not wanting to be a player.
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

She spoke not a work but went straight to her work.
And staked that vampire, then turned with a jerk.
And linking arms with her Slayerettes,
And giving a nod, out the door they went.

She sprang to Cordy's Beemer, claiming shotgun
And away they all flew like vampires from the sun.
But I heard her exclaim ere they drove out of sight --
"Happy Buffy to all, and to all a fright night!"

<running> <hiding>

High Priestess Lizbet of the CoJ ~*~ {{>AGA<}} ~*~ [e-mail]
SunS List Co-Mummy:  "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me."
"Ahhhh.  Cute blond angst.  Ahhhhh." -- Celli
"Compared to the four of us, Mata Hari could apply for sainthood." - Dianne
"So, okay.  We're fine now.  Really.  Sort of.  Kinda.  Maybe not." -- Kiki





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Amanda <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Buffy fanfic- Untilted (Pt. 1/?)
Date: 17 Sep 1997 15:33:47 -0400 (EDT)


This is my first Buffy fic so I would really like some replys.

Title: Untitled- feel free to throw out some ideas
Author: Amanda
Email: [e-mail]
Distribution Statement: please ask
Spoiler Warning: minor spoiler for "When She Was Bad"
Rating: hmm, probably PG-13, maybe R
content warning: some profanity, heavy sexual innuendo and tension
Summary: Xander follows Buffy after another one of her outburts spurred
from her "issues". Buffy turns the tables on his anger by trying to seduce
him. Note: my Buffy-Giles thing is formed from my theory on the show inr
egards to why Buffy dreamed of Giles as the Master.
Disclaimer: i am not so lucky as to own any of the characters in this
story. They all belong to Joss Whedon and the WB and my use of them is not
meant to harm, but to pay homage to genius



**************Part One of an as of Yet Untitled Piece*******************

    Xander watched in horro as Buffy walked casually away from Giles;
her face was unreadable but his radiated a pain and vulnerability he had
never seen before.
    "What does she mean she doesn't want to be the slayer anymore?"
Willow burst out, breaking the long silence, "Xander, what does she mean."
    Xander narrowed hie eyes, "I don't know but I'm gonna find out."
He took off after Buffy leaving a distraught Willow and a lifeless Giles
behind.
    " Buffy," Xander called across the crowded quad. Buffy kept up her
brisk pace without even acknowledging Xander.  Furious, he ran to catch
up with her. When he did he spun her around by the arm, holding on to it
with a force that surprised her. "Buffy, what the hell do you think you're
doing."
    She struck out at him with a quick hard shove to the chest that
left him breathless. "What does it look like. I'm walking away."
    "Not until I've had a word with you. Enough is enough. You've been
acting like a major bitch ever since you got back from LA. Now Willow and
I have tried to be understanding about your "issues" but now you've gone
too far. it's one thing to insult me or willow, but Gile sis another
story. Do you even care that you've hurt him."
    Buffy snorted," the truth hurts."
    Xander grabbed her arm again, only this time Buffy couldn't shake
loose. "Are you kidding me. You can't possibly mean what you're saying."
    Buffy hid her surprise at Xander's strength rather well. her face
held no emotion but her eyes were flashing. " Sure I do. he killed me."
    "Buffy," Xander replied slowly, trying to calm his sky rocketing
anger," The last I remeber the Master was the one who killed you. Now,
unless I missed an important news bulletin, Giles isn't the Master."
    "The Master may have physically killed me, but it was Giles' fault
he was able to do it. Giles was supposed to protect me- thatw as his job,
and well, he didn't. The way I see it his allowing it to happen is just as
bad as if he'd actaully bit my throat and sucked my blood out himself."
    " I'm gonna try speaking to the real Buffy. The one I know and
Love cause I know she wouldn't be speaking this way."
    "Sorry to burst your bubble Xan, but this is the real Buffy. Maybe
you just never really knew me." All of a sudden Buffy's expression began
to change. Her eyes softened and her body became soft, the tension in her
arm leaving, making Xander feel as though he was gripping a pillow rather
than a stell pipe. Her lips curled into a smile and she took a step closer
to Xander. When he didn't react she moved even closer, this time making
certain her breast brushed his right arm. Her voice dropped to almost a
whisper,one that  radiated electric heat rather than the arctic cold of
seconds earlier. "Don't you want to get to know me Xander. Really know me.
I know you do."
    Xander's breathing ebcame sallow. Involuntarily his heart beat
speed up a couple of notches, his anger of just seconds ago slipping away.
her brest brushed his arm again and he found himself falling in to a
familar pit. One filled with pain and longing; all of it stemming from one
vibrant force- Buffy.
    It was as if she admitted some kind of poison-at least that's what
it felt like. Her essence raced through his veins, burning his whole body.
She destroyed him.
    He found his gaze wandering to her lips. Perfect, they seemed. Had
anyone elses lips ever looked so perfect and delicate as her's did. And
the color- bloodred. the color of love; the color of his heart which beat
only for her. What if he could kiss those lips.
    "Well Xander," and this time when she stepped forward she left no
space between them. her body fitted into Xander's as though she had been
made to be there. She tipped her face up to his. so close, that he felt
her next words rather than felt them. " Don't you....want me."

To Be Continued........
Please give me feedback- I crave it.






-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls Part 11/14 by JJ
Date: 17 Sep 1997 20:03:52 -0400

Next part.  Notice in the subject line that this will be ending soon.
Thank god.  This part is dedicated to J Northcott, who provided me some
insight on what I'm doing wrong.  His influence will be seen particularly
heavily in part 13, I think, but just to let him know that his remarks had
an impact.  A key point in this section is dependent on a conceit I made up
for my Gone II.  Which is on the Slayer's Fanfic Archive.  I suggest you
read it, but if you don't, I think you'll know which part in this segment I
mean.

Anyway, all comments and feedback are appreciated, as usual.

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating:  PG-13
Warnings:  Mild language.
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 11

Gilda Rosenberg threw the last of her suitcases in the trunk.  Her husband
waited in the front seat of the car, its motor running.  She slammed the
lid and got into the passenger's side.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded, taking one last look at their house before they left.  The
others of their circle were gone, forewarned of the coming danger.  She had
left several messages on Alexander's machine, urging him to call her, but
it was too late to try to track him down.  Angry clouds were gathering in
the sky above, beginning to obscure the full moon by whose light they would
need to find their way out.

As they pulled out onto the street, she tossed off a final prayer to any
power who was listening to protect her daughter and Xander.
---
There was a dead silence in Xander's car as attention focused on the
vampire in the backseat.

"I don't understand,"  Willow asked gently, as Angel buried his face in his
hands.  When he looked up, he wore the distorted visage of his true face,
angry tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I don't care what happens now,"  he spat out.  "I lost Buffy.  I don't
care.  The whole world can go to hell, I don't care."

"Are you nuts?"  Hecate demanded, harshly.  "Because that's what it sounds
like to me.  It sounds to me like you're nuts.  You're going to let the
world die, because you lost your girlfriend?"

"Screw you," he retorted, a low growl in his throat.

"Oh, believe me, you are!"  Hecate said, kicking the back of the seat in
front of her in frustration.  "Never mind.  We don't have time to waste.
Sometimes there's nothing to be done about free will except to eradicate
it."  She began to raise her hand toward him, murmuring low under her
breath.

"What are doing?"  Willow shouted, reaching into the back and knocking her
hand down.  The air between the two women was electric with challenge.
Finally, Hecate backed down.  Willow turned back to Angel.  "Angel, Buffy
is gone..."

"What the hell do you care?  Where were you when she needed you?"  Angel
said, furiously.  "I looked for you.  If you had come, maybe she would
still be here."

"Buffy isn't my fault,"  Willow said, calmly.  "Don't you dare blame me for
whatever happened.  I wish I could've taken her pain...or yours...."

"What do you know about my pain?"  Angel wailed, waving a hand at Xander.
"He's still here.  He's still alive."

Willow watched the tortured vampire for a second, then said, "If you don't
help me, he won't be tomorrow."

Angel leaned back, his face becoming unreadable in the shadows of the car.
When he didn't answer, Willow continued, "Eighteen years ago, I tried to
kill myself, because I didn't want to deal with what I had become, with
what had been forced on me.  You showed me that I had a choice."

Still there was silence.  Willow sighed.  "Angel, there was no curse.  The
Rom never returned your soul."

A look of surprise fell on his face; he opened his mouth to speak, but
managed only to sputter weakly.  Willow explained,  "In Paris, Lazlo
Hunyadi explained to me what happened.  Whatever is inside you now chose to
be the way you are today; you chose to care about what you had done.  What
you are today is a good man.  I believe that, and I need that good man to
help me keep Xander from dying.  Please."

Again, a long hush fell over the four.  Finally Xander spoke up, "God damn
you."

Willow looked at him in surprise; his body shook with barely-contained
emotion as he stared out the front windshield.  Quietly Xander wept, "I
loved her too."

Willow smiled, touching the man's shoulder gently, "What happened that night?"

Angel quickly got out of the car, adding tersely, "We're wasting time."

Willow and Hecate both exhaled slowly as the the tension dissipated.

"You people are pathetic,"  Hecate fussed, getting out of the car.  "I'm
tempted to let the God crush you all."

Willow and Xander were alone.  HIs hand reached up and covered hers on his
shoulder, clutching it tightly.  "I'm staying,"  he said, with finality,
looking her in the eyes.  She regarded him evenly, then nodded.  Then they
joined the two waiting at the gate to the Municipal Building complex.
---
They found Mayor Snyder's car a few minutes later.  What was left of him
was sprawled across the hood.  All of them looked at the gore with
surprisingly little emotion, surveying the desecretation done to his
remains.

"This ought to please the God immensely,"  Hecate observed. "The death of
Order in Sunnydale."

"How close is he?"  Xander asked, noticing now the the clouds gathering
over the town, blocking out the moon.

"Close.  I don't know if we can stop it now.  Just a few more deaths."
Hecate said, striding over to a manhole cover.  "This will take us into the
tunnels?"

Angel nodded, reaching down and ripping it out of the ground.

Hecate turned to Willow and Xander.  "This is where we part company,
children.  We two to the Hellmouth;  you two to find the Prince of the
Autopsy.  You have my blessing for what it's worth.  Perhaps we will see
each other again."

"Perhaps,"  Willow said, embracing the other woman, then hugging Angel
tightly.  "Thank you," she whispered to him.

"Buffy would've wanted it,"  Angel whispered back.  She nodded and smiled
as the two other immortals disappeared into the manhole.

Willow turned to Xander.  "When we meet Scapino, you stay back.  You saw
what he did to Snyder.  If it looks like I'm losing, you run.  Don't try to
help me.  Promise."

Xander nodded, then grinned in his winningly loopy way.  "I promise.  I'm
not worried, though.  I'm with Willow, Warrior Princess."

She laughed in spite of the dread she felt in the pit of her stomach.

"Just like old times, huh?" he asked, smiling broadly.

"Just like old times," she agreed.

"Boy, that really sucks," he said, his smile fading.

With a resigned sigh, she lead him down into darkness.
----
End Part 11





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls Part 12/14 by JJ
Date: 18 Sep 1997 21:48:29 -0400

This part will either be an enormous misstep or pull the entire story
together.  I'm not sure which.  You decide.  Thanks to everyone who've been
providing feedback.  It's meant a lot and been very helpful.

I warn you that this part has scenes of graphic violence in it.

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating:  PG-13/R for violence
Warnings:  Mild language.  Violence.
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 12

Every ten yards a small bulb threw off weak light that illuminated the
tunnels below Sunnydale.  Neither Hecate nor Angel needed the light to see,
each driven by acute supernatural senses and a preternatural speed, yet
they seemed to rush from light to light, the darkness between the tiny
beacons almost suffocating them.

"You don't like me, do you?" Hecate asked, Angel leading in front.

"No," he answered, not bothering to look at her.

She watched the back of his head carefully, then whined exaggeratedly, "Are
we there yet?"

"Almost."

She reached out and stopped him, forcing him to face her.  "Wait up."

"What?" he demanded impatiently.

She reached behind her neck and unfastened the clasp of her necklace.
Reverently she lifted it around his neck and fixed it.  He lifted the
pendant suspiciously.  "What's this?"

"Consider it a gift from your goddess to her champion," she offered, her
tone slightly embarrassed.

He was puzzled.  "Should I thank you?"

She smiled enigmatically.  "Probably not.  Lead on, MacDuff."

He shrugged and continued down the passageway.
---
A few tunnels over, Willow kept Xander close to her.  He had stumbled twice
until his eyes adjusted to the darkness.  He remembered the last time he
had been down here.  They had been running from the vampires, up into the
school, to the boiler room... He stopped himself, shaking away memory to
focus on the task at hand.  He could feel Willow's hand tighten around his
as they went deeper into the earth.  She seemed visibly disturbed, her eyes
darting around anxiously.  Then he remembered that the last time she had
been down in these tunnels, it had cost her her humanity.  They had lost 18
years.

They reached a junction of several tunnels, each heading off into a
different direction.   Steel piping was strewn around the ground,
apparently surplus materials abandoned there by a work crew.  The ceiling
at this juncture was higher than in the tunnel they had just left, and a
bright bulb hanging from it lit the area.  Willow released his hand as she
considered the directions.  Then they heard it.  The tinkling bells.
Xander tensed, but he saw Willow's body relax into a fighter's stance, as
she carefully tried to localize the sound down each of the dark tunnels.

"What is that?" he whispered.

"Shh," she warned him.  "He's coming."

Suddenly there was a blur of motion behind them, racing from one tunnel
into another.  Xander started, while Willow wheeled around, fists at the
ready.  She slowly began to walk over to the tunnel that the sound had
disappeared down.  Xander trailed behind her, picking up a length of pipe
as a weapon.  As Willow peered down the dark tunnel, Xander felt a
qualitative shift in the light from above.  It was getting darker.  He
slowly looked up.  A shadow fell towards him.  He screamed.
---
They emerged into the Master's throne room, in the sunken church above the
Hellmouth.  In the center of the room was a circle defined carefully by lit
candles.  In the center of the circle was a body, staked out and
spreadeagled, naked and mutilated.  The overweight body was slit open from
the bottom of the sternum to the top of the crotch, its intestines spilling
out on the ground.  A bloody knife lay on the ground beside him.  His face
was missing.

Hecate stepped gingerly to the body and carefully read the fall of the
intestines on the ground.  "Scapino's work," she told Angel, who looked at
the murky pool from which he had dragged Buffy's still body many years ago,
on the night she killed the Master.  There was something floating on its
surface; he reached down and lifted it out.

"I found his face," he said quietly, handing the bloody artifact to the
goddess, who gently set it back on the corpse.

"No vampires around," she observed.

"The Anointed One is dead,"  he explained.  "They would have sought
protection from a stronger master elsewhere."

She nodded at the sensible suggestion.  "That's not all.  Our little psycho
was doing a little augury while feeding his master."  She pointed at the
spilled guts.  "This is still fresh.  He knows Willow and Xander are down
here.  I'm assuming he's gone after them."

Angel fidgeted with the necklace around his neck, which had begun to feel
strangely warm.  Suddenly his acute hearing detected muffled struggling
nearby.  He followed it to a small alcove, poorly lit, where he could make
out the outline of a human being.  He reached for it, but it pulled away
violently, agitatedly.

"It's okay," he said soothingly, "We're hear to help you."

The man relaxed and let Angel slowly pull him into the light.  It was a
young man with dark hair and a goatee, squinting as he emerged from the
darkness.  Angel undid the gag.  "What's your name?"

"Chris,"  the young man mumbled, his face stained with dried tears as Angel
undid the rope around his ankles and wrist.

"Thank god you're here.  She's crazy.  I heard her kill Dr. Abercrombie.
Oh god,"  Chris  moaned, catching sight of the professor's remains in the
circle, then staggering over to the pool and vomiting into it.

"Her?"  Hecate wondered out loud.
---
Xander screamed as Willow tackled the Prince of the Autopsy in midair.
Both hit the ground and rolled to their feet assuming combatant's
positions.  "You must be Scapino.  You're smaller than I thought you would
be,"  Willow observed coldly, assessing the short, brightly dressed clown
with the jingling bells as they circled around each other.  "Muscles and
all that.  You're pretty spry."

Xander's first reaction at the sight of the two was, "Clown.  Must run."
But he swallowed that childhood fear and backed up against one of the
tunnel entrances, clutching the pipe in his hand tightly.

The Prince reached into the pouch by his side and drew out a silver
scalpel, swiping it like a switchblade at Willow, who leapt back then took
the opening to kick the demon in the chest.  He recovered quickly and
attacked her again, but Willow grabbed him by the wrist and twisted his arm
behind his back.  With a grunt, she lifted Scapino into the air and slammed
him into the ground, planting her foot into his shoulder as she gave the
arm another twist.  Scapino dropped the scalpel, which landed with a clink
against the concrete floor.  The clown's leg swept out suddenly and knocked
Willow off her footing.  She fell onto her back, but popped back up.   The
two fighters leapt at each in a blur of punches and kicks.  Xander watched
the fight, amazed by the lethal grace in their battle.  Every move the
Prince made, Willow countered with deadly precision.  Willow's blows were
likewise parried with accuracy.  They were too evenly matched at first.
Suddenly the Prince landed a roundhouse kick to the side of Willow's head,
staggering her briefly.  He followed with a powerful punch to the stomach
that winded the girl, then kneed her to the head as she fell forward,
knocking her unconscious.

Xander watched as the demon picked up his scalpel, pulling Willow's head up
by her hair.

*If it looks like I'm losing, you run.*  "Like hell," he thought rushing
forward and smashing the pipe against the small demon's back.  Scapino
dropped Willow and turned towards him, giggling loudly and inhumanly.

Xander froze.  He knew that sound.  Vaguely, the memory of a phone call
from Joyce Summers returned to him.  Buffy's home.  Then that chilling
sound and silence.  "Is it you?" he asked in bewilderment, holding up the
bent pipe between them.

The porcelain facemask was unmoved, its distorted smirk taunting him, as
the Prince of the Autopsy strode towards him raising its scalpel in the
air.  "Is it you?!" Xander repeated, his voice insistent.

"Let's find out."

Willow's hand grabbed the raised wrist from behind, twisting it again
around Scapino's back.  She heard a crunch as, this time, she dislocated
the clown's arm.  With her other hand, she stuck two fingers into the
eyeholes of the mask, locking onto it and yanking upwards.  There was the
tearing of fabric as the jester's cap fell off his head.  Dark blonde hair
long unwashed and uncut fell down.  Xander's eyes grew wide.

The Prince of the Autopsy was a woman.  And her name had been Buffy Summers.

And the scream that came out of her mouth was monstrous.
---
The soft earth shifted beneath their feet.  Hecate looked down.  She could
feel the God of Nine Walls, burrowing his way to freedom.  Her throat tight
with panic, she turned to Chris, "I'm going to send you back to the
surface.  Get out of town.  Go to Cortona, Italy, and find a Brother Luca
at the Monastery of Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations.  I'd send you there
now, but I can't spare the power.  Tell him what you saw and what happened
here."

"I don't understand,"  Chris murmured, wiping the spittle from his mouth.

"Remember," Hecate said, staring him forcefully in the eyes.  She drew a
quick circle in the air which exploded into a bright wall of light.  She
shoved him through it and the wall disappeared.

Angel had felt the rumbling under the earth as well.  The necklace he wore
began to burn him;  he yelped loudly, reaching to yank it off, but the
goddess stopped him, dragging him into the circle where Dr. Abercrombie's
body still remained.  She crossed her forearms and raised her hands to the
level of her face, closing her eyes and chanting under her breath.  She
began to give off a soft white glow that grew wider and brighter,
illuminating the chamber they were in.  It was moonlight.  The ground below
them began to rumble visibly now, but the glow spread out further, out of
the church and into the electrical tunnels, like a wave of light flooding
the vasculature of the undercity.
---
Willow held what had once been Buffy tightly as the demon struggled against
her.  Both Willow and Xander had felt the minor trembles rumble beneath
them and looked at each other with shared fear.  Scapino made deep guttural
sounds of triumph as the rumbling grew louder.  Suddenly, they felt the
first wave of white light hit them, its calming influence alleviating their
growing dis-ease.  The Prince of the Autopsy howled in anger, using its
good arm and the moment of distraction to elbow Willow in the stomach and
break free.

Xander rushed to help her, but Scapino stopped him, reaching into its pouch
and taking out a small wax doll.  Willow watched in horror as the thing
brought the doll up to Buffy's lips and took a bite out of the figurine's
midsection.  Xander howled in pain and crumpled to the ground, the front of
his shirt beginning to stain with blood.  Buffy-Scapino spat out the chunk
of wax and threw the doll on the ground, then ran off into the tunnels,
clutching its useless arm.

"Xander!"  Willow screamed.
---
Hecate lowered her hands, her face scrunched in discomfort.

"Are you alright?"  Angel asked, ignoring the intense burning on his chest
from the necklace.

She nodded, bending down to pick up the bloody knife beside the body.
"That should hold him temporarily.  And now, bat boy, the reason why you're
here."

"I don't understand," he said, trying to back out of the circle, but
finding that he couldn't.

"Near the beginning," she said, lifting the knife. "The Old Ones trapped
the God of Nine Walls by sacrificing their children to him.  And you, Child
of the Old Ones, are going to be the one that ends this for good."
---
Chris blinked suddenly  and realized he was back in the parking lot of City
Hall.  There was a fierce wind that tore across his face and whistled
violently in his ears.  Squinting he looked up and saw the dark clouds
above rolling angrily through the sky.  But where was the moon?
----
End Part 12





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: MiB: Hellmouth (03/?) by D.Spence
Date: 19 Sep 1997 18:48:52 -0400 (EDT)

TITLE: MiB: The Hellmouth Incident
AUTHOR: Dalton S. Spence
EMAIL ADDRESS: <[e-mail]>
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: This story cannot be sold or used for profit
    in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use
    only or posted in fanfic archives for general distribution, but
    must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.
SPOILER WARNING: Occurs after "Prophecy Girl" and IMMEDIATELY after
    the movie "Men in Black"
RATING: PG13
CONTENT WARNING: This story depicts scenes of violence and/or their
    aftermath. If depictions of this nature disturb you, you may
    wish to read something other than this story.
CLASSIFICATION: C - Crossover with "Men in Black"
SUMMARY: Reports of the possible presence of an unregistered time-
    space anomaly bring Jay and Elle to Sunnydale, California where
    they discover there are things even MiBs find hard to believe.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Giles, the Slayerettes and all other characters
    who have appeared in the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"
    together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole
    copyright property of Joss Wheadon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., Kuzui
    Enterprises, Sandollar Television, 20th Century Fox Television
    and the Warner Brothers Television Network. Jay, Elle, Zed and
    all other characters who have appeared in the motion picture
    "Men in Black" together with the names, titles and backstory are
    the sole copyright property of Columbia Pictures, Amblin
    Entertainment, MacDonald/Parkes Productions, and Malibu Comics.
    No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this
    fan fiction. All other characters, the story idea and the story
    itself are the sole property of the author.

                    MiB: The Hellmouth Incident
                  a "BtVS/Men in Black" crossover
            by Dalton S. Spence <[e-mail]>

*Part 3*

Angel's analysis of the situation would have been flawless ... *IF*
he had been talking about the Master. While the Anointed One was
just as evil and nearly as powerful as the Master had been, he was
still only ten years old. And when a ten year old boy finds a secret
this big, he just has to tell *someone* about it. Fortunately, he
didn't have to worry about being believed; his inner circle would
never *officially* doubt him, and would follow his orders even if
they seemed crazy. Also, Colin was a devoted fan of the X-Files (to
the extent that he had demanded that his new lair have cable), and
fully expected that `the government' would show up soon to cover-up
the incident. This could be a *MAJOR* problem.

"Maybe we'll get lucky, and they will eliminate the Slayer and her
friends for us," commented one of Colin's inner circle minions after
he had described the night's happenings, "or at least put us under
their protection as a possible resource."

With a sigh Colin got up from his `throne' (which his minions had
salvaged at great risk from the Master's lair) and stepped to the
edge of the raised dias from which he addressed the others. He
grabbed the offending wag by his throat and lifted him off his feet.
"Do you really enjoy pain so much that you would risk spending the
rest of your miserable existance in a secret lab being experimented
on like an animal? Not that your fate matters that much to me,
except you would probably bring the same fate down on all of us."

He released his victim to fall on the floor, and turned to the
others. "*MAKE NO MISTAKE!* If the conspiracy exists (and given the
existence of aliens among us it probably does), the mortals who run
it will have no more conscience than we do. We must expect that they
would without hesitation nuke this town to preserve their secret,
and explain it away as a terrorist act. For purely pragmatic reasons
this would probably be a last resort, but they could easily send a
covert ops team down here with flamethrowers to burn us out. What we
need is leverage; hard evidence that they could not deny which we
could use to expose them if they tried to destroy us."

Colin returned to the center of the dias and, standing on the seat
of the throne, spread his arms dramatically and declared, "*LET IT
BE KNOWN* that those who go out to hunt are to watch for mortals who
*ARE NOT HUMAN!* Who move wrong -- who smell wrong -- who *TASTE*
wrong. And *WHEN* such a non-human mortal is found, bring it to me
*ALIVE!* Confiscate any unusual artifacts it possesses and take them
to a safe place to be studied. Any objections?" Seeing no one was
going to be brave (or foolish) enough to oppose him, he lowered his
hands and ordered, "Get on with it!"

                         *   *   *   *   *

Since the Master's defeat, many of the vampires in Sunnydale had
decided to seek safer hunting grounds, far from the threat of the
Slayer. Thus it took only minutes for those remaining to recieve
Colin's orders, and attempt to carry them out. While usually they
hunted alone, tonight they went out in teams of three; one to act as
lookout for the Slayer or their special prey, the other two to
abduct the prey safely and bring it home.

The unfortunate who had suffered Colin's wrath led one of the first
teams out, determined to make up for his humiliation by being the
one who brought an alien back. "But where to start?" he muttered to
himself as he led the others out of the sewers. "Where does one find
a non-human mortal?"

"I think I know sir," answered one of his companions timidly. "I've
seen one like the Anointed One described, who moves, smells and
sounds wrong. I didn't taste him though -- I was on that special
project you sent me on for the Master, and you told me to keep a low
profile at all costs."

"Where is he?" asked the leader, "For that matter, *WHO* is he?"
When the subordinate whispered the name, the leader's eyebrows rose,
and he smiled evilly. "The Anointed One will be pleased. Very
pleased indeed."

                         *   *   *   *   *

//That guy just *HAS* to be a vampire,// thought Elle as she gauged
the newcomer as a possible threat, //Nobody mortal could look that
good.// Maybe her former career as a coroner had desensitized her to
the natural repugnance people usually feel around the dead, maybe it
was part of the creature's natural glamour, or maybe she had just
been without a date in far too long; whatever the reason, she found
this `Angel' enormously attractive. //Now I know how Natalie Lambert
felt when she first met Nick Knight.//

"Really, Angel," Giles said with mild irritation, "there was no need
for such a dramatic entrance. Don't you ever knock?"

"What, and miss out on this fascinating conversation? It's not often
I get to meet people who deal with things stranger than me." Turning
to Jay he said, "I think I should warn you bullets may wreck my
shirt but won't do me any lasting harm."

"Who said this thing shoots bullets? I think a three foot hole in
your chest would be more than an inconvenience."

Buffy shared an exasperated look with Elle. "Testosterone poisoning
is a terrible thing, isn't it?"

Elle shook her sadly. "True, but what can one do? The cure is worse
than the disease ... at least for our purposes. I'm assuming of
course he *is* a friend of yours."

With a small smile Buffy answered, "Yes, he is a ... friend."

//Darn!// thought Elle, correctly interpreting the smile, //Why do
blondes always have more fun.//

Only practice kept Jay's jaw from dropping. "But I thought ... isn't
he ... I mean, aren't you supposed to ..."

"Angel's different," explained Buffy patiently, "he was cursed with
the return of his soul."

"And that's a curse?" Jay asked, surprised.

Angel answered him. "It is if you've done the things I did for over
a century. I truly was a monster in every sense. About eighty years
ago I killed a gypsy girl and her family took exception, devising
for me the most fiendish punishment they could imagine. I haven't
killed a living soul since then. In fact, I've been helping Buffy to
`repay society for my sins' as it were."

//Oh god, not just a vampire,// thought Elle, //but an *angsty*
vampire who can quote the show. I'm doomed!// "Did I ever mention I
used to be a coroner?" she blurted out.

Buffy scowled at her. "Don't go there!" she warned.

Angel sighed and looked at Jay. "Estrogen poisoning is a terrible
thing, isn't it?"

Jay smiled. "True, but what can you do?"

"Amusing as this witty repartee is," Giles interrupted, "shouldn't
we get back to business? I agree with Angel; the vampires around
here are dangerous enough without adding futuristic weapons to their
arsenal of destructive capabilities. Mrs. Edelson, do you happen to
know of any other ... extraterrestrial immigrants in the area?"

"Only one," she admitted, ignoring the warning looks from the MiBs,
"Most of us who end up in California gravitate to Los Angeles in
order to blend in. Unfortunately, he may be a problem."

Jay grimaced. //This is definitely something I did *NOT* want to
hear right now.//  "How come?"

"He has acquired a human family he won't want to leave behind."

"What?!?" said Buffy, echoing the unvoiced astonishment of the other
terrestrials in the room.

"Really Buffy, I'm surprised at you!" admonished Mrs. Edelson, "You
of all people should know love can cross the most unbelievable of
boundries. Lorik was an auxilary attache to the Baltan delegation in
New York from one of their smaller colony worlds who, as is their
custom, became a nominal member of the royal family for the duration
of his service. That's where we met. He resigned from active duty
about eighteen years ago when his homeworld was destroyed in the
war, then fell in love with and married a young human widow who was
pregnant with her late husband's child. They moved here, and have
lived here ever since. Of course, both his wife and daughter know
what he is, but the service was satisfied with giving them both
psycho-inhibitor treatments so they couldn't say anything, even
accidently."

"Oh boy," said Jay anxiously, "we had better tell him right away
anyway. You know how the Baltans get when their royalty is harmed. I
imagine even ex-royalty would be important to them."

"It's worse than you know," she explained grimly, "The Baltans are
still very embarrassed that humans were needed to retrieve the third
galaxy, and they will be looking to save face any way that they can.
Lorik is still officially a reserve officer, and because he was
attached to the prince's personal staff, he is legally a part of the
prince's body. Even though the prince is now dead, any crime against
Lorik could be considered an act of war."

As Jay reached for his cell phone it suddenly rang *VERY* loudly,
causing everyone to jump a bit. "Oh oh," he muttered before he
flipped it open. "Jay here. ... DAMN! I was afraid of this. How long
ago? Five minutes? Jeez, they work fast. ... Yes sir, we do have a
lead. I was just about to call you. ... She *WHAT?* ... I see. No,
I'm afraid she's not delusional; apparently the article was true
after all. If you just give me the address ... she's on her way
HERE? But why?"

Jay's eyes widened as he heard the answer. Looking at Giles and
Buffy, he said, "Sir, we have already made contact. That is where we
got our information. If you just give me the release phrase so she
can talk to them ... Eew, that's twisted!" There was a screech of
tires in the parking lot, and the sound of car doors slamming. "I
think that's her now. I'll call back." He snapped the phone shut and
put it in his pocket.

"Okay, I'll bite," said Buffy. "Who's here? And how does she know
about me?" Her question was quickly answered by the sound of running
feet in the hall, and the library doors slammed open to reveal ...

                         *   *   *   *   *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, did I give you enough hints this time? Did you
believe them? Do you have any idea what I'm talking about? Do you
care? Will my next sentence also be a question? Will I ever stop?

(Okay, I read the the Discussion List quotables. So sue me! [Wait!
I was just kidding! Please! Nnnnooooooo.... ] ;-)=

--
          +-------------------------------------------------+
          | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. <[e-mail]>|
          | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html |
          +-------------------------------------------------+



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Secret World of Willow (04/?) by D.Spence
Date: 19 Sep 1997 18:48:54 -0400 (EDT)

There is a bit of teen angst here. I decided to let Willow vent a
little. Of all the characters on the show, I've always admired her
the most (which is why I chose her as the star of this story).

                         *   *   *   *   *

TITLE: The Secret World of Willow Rosenberg
AUTHOR: Dalton S. Spence
EMAIL ADDRESS: <[e-mail]>
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: This story cannot be sold or used for profit
    in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use
    only or posted in fanfic archives for general distribution, but
    must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.
SPOILER WARNING: Occurs after "Prophecy Girl"
RATING: PG13
CONTENT WARNING: This story depicts scenes of violence and/or their
    aftermath. If depictions of this nature disturb you, you may
    wish to read something other than this story.
CLASSIFICATION: C - Crossover with "The Secret World of Alex Mack"
SUMMARY: The new girl at Sunnydale has a weird secret all her own -
    one that Willow will soon share.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Giles, the Slayerettes and all other characters
    who have appeared in the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"
    together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole
    copyright property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., Kuzui
    Enterprises, Sandollar Television, 20th Century Fox Television
    and the Warner Brothers Television Network. Alex Mack, her
    family, Danielle Atron and all other characters who have
    appeared in the series "The Secret World of Alex Mack" together
    with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright
    property of Viacom International, MTV Networks, Nickelodeon
    Television Network, Nickelodeon Productions, Hallmark
    Entertainment, and Lynch Entertainment. No copyright
    infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction.
    All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are
    the sole property of the author. I'm too broke to be sued,
    anyway. (But if anybody thinks my literary skill presents that
    much a risk, feel free to *HIRE* me!)

                         *   *   *   *   *

                The Secret World of Willow Rosenberg
                      (a BtVS/SWAM crossover)
            by Dalton S. Spence <[e-mail]>

         "I guess I'm not so ordinary anymore." - Alex Mack

*Part 4*

Alex moved to the window. "First rule: ALWAYS check for witnesses."
She'd done this so many times that she had closed the blinds and
turned away before her brain registered the sight of a dark figure
leaning against a lamppost watching her house.

Waving Willow into silence, Alex zapped the light switch to darken
the room, then peered through the blinds at the intruder. The sky
was still light enough out so that the streetlamp was not yet lit,
but the sun had definitely set while they had been talking, and the
figure below was further obsured by the overhanging branches of a
nearby tree. Suddenly the streetlight came on, and Alex could see
him clearly for the first time. "Wow," she gasped in delight, "that
guy *HAS* to be a vampire! Nothing mortal could look that good."

Intrigued, Willow joined her at the window. She smiled in relief as
he apparently sensed their observation and sketched a brief salute.
"You're right, but don't worry, he's on our side," she informed
Alex, "His name is Angel, and he's a ... friend of Buffy. She
probably sent him over to keep an eye on us."

Alex was skeptical. "A `friend', huh? And just how does a vampire
become a `friend' of a Slayer? From what Mr. Giles said, I thought
they were all evil incarnate."

Willow was a bit startled to hear the librarian referred to so
formally, then a bit more so when she realized that *she* hadn't
done so in a very long time. //The old Willow wouldn't have dreamed
of speaking to or of a staff member by just his last name. I guess
fighting the forces of darkness leaves little room for formality.//
Remembering Alex's question, she answered, "Well, most of them are.
He used to be, but about eighty years ago he killed a gypsy girl,
and her clan cursed him with the return of his soul. Since then,
he's been one of the good guys."

"And now he helps Buffy `to repay society for his sins' I suppose,"
Alex sighed.

"Well, there *is* that," Willow admitted, "but these days I think
it's mostly Buffy."

"Does he have a master who's constantly trying to bring him back to
the fold?"

"The Master ... oh, you mean the one who brought him across. That
would have been Darla. He dusted her when she tried to kill Buffy."

"Eww, way harsh!" Alex grimaced.

Willow looked at Alex, feeling a sudden sympathy with Giles and his
dealings with Buffy. "Harsh is the way life *is* on the Hellmouth,"
she said seriously, "This isn't some TV show you can turn off and
write fanfic about to change the ending. Friends, people I've known
my entire life are *DEAD* because of vampires, and they won't be
coming back -- and if they did, they'd just be demons in disguise,
and Buffy would have to drive a stake through their hearts. You
*HAVE* to understand this is real, or it could kill you too."

//Wow, she's not only as smart as Annie, she sounds like her too.//
As Alex looked into Willow's haunted eyes, she felt a little ashamed
at her dismissal of this situation as merely a different kind of
weirdness. For the first time since she had moved to Sunnydale, she
was *GLAD* Ray and the others had stayed behind in Paradise Valley,
and that her sister was on the other side of the country. At least
in Paradise Valley, the enemy was human, and the danger was hers
alone. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Nobody does, except for us. Oh, they know people have died or
disappeared, but no one else understands how or why. I've had to go
to their funerals, watch their families grieve, and remain silent.
That's the hardest part sometimes. Knowing, and not being able to
explain."

Playing for time to think of something to say, Alex used her TK to
turn on the lights and bring the computer box to the floor. "I wish
I could say `I can imagine' but I can't. Not yet, anyway. At least
you have your friends, so you aren't totally alone."

"Yeah," she said bitterly, "my friends. A guy I'm totally hung up on
who sees me as just his `best bud', the beautiful blond superheroine
that he has the hots for, and a forty-something librarian whose idea
of a hot time is a cup of tea and a good book, preferably an ancient
tome in a forgotten language containing apocalyptic prophecies. They
mean well, and they've put their lives on the line for me on more
than one occasion, but sometimes I think they only want me for my
brain." She idly opened the box, and reaching inside lifted out the
carefully packed monitor with her hands and placed it down on a
clear space on a nearby table.

"I'm sure that's not true," protested Alex, remembering the times
Annie had made the same complaint.

Willow sighed. "I know that. Really, I do! I guess I'm just a little
scared, and needed to vent a bit. I'm fine now." To prove it, she
lifted the CPU out of the box with her TK, quickly stripped off the
wrapping from it and the monitor (exposing the wire-mesh shielding
encasing both components), set the CPU on the floor beside the table
and connected the monitor cable to it.

"Trust me on this," said Alex, quite impressed with the skill her
protege had just shown, "once I've trained you to control and use
your powers, your brain is the last thing they'll think about." Not
about to be out done, she telekinetically extracted the keyboard and
the mouse (which were also shielded with special surge-protected
connectors), and placed them on the table in front of the monitor.

With a slight giggle, Willow commented wryly, "Now, isn't *THAT* a
comforting thought." She connected the keyboard and mouse, then
pulled out the modem and power cables and the powerbar and made the
final connections (manually; she didn't want to take any chances)
including the grounding connections for the shielding.

"You know what I mean," protested Alex, glad her new friend seemed
in a better mood. She watched in amused awe as Willow booted up the
machine and gave it a thorough checkout, familiarizing herself with
the available utilities. When she pulled what looked like a small
address book out of her purse, Alex asked, "What's that?"

"Oh," she responded blithely, "it's just my list of ISP accounts,
with connect numbers and user ids."

"Accounts?" Alex was impressed. "You mean you have more than one?"

"Of course. There's my school account (that's the one I use in Ms.
Calendar's class), my home account (where I get my personal e-mail
and surf the public websites), my list-admin account (I manage the
`Beyond the Beyond' fanfic mailing list, newsgroup and FTP archive),
and my Slayerette account."

"Your *WHAT* account?!?" Alex asked, laughing.

"My Slayerette account. It's a superuser account on the Board of
Education mainframe that Giles helped me set up. I telnet from there
to other systems with bogus IDs when I need to do a little hacking
for Buffy. Don't worry, I never change anything (only snoop a bit),
and I stay well away from military or federal government systems;
they've gotten really paranoid about security these days. I don't
use it much; most of the stuff we need can be found on open websites
or by anonymous FTP." Seeing Alex's relief, she cautioned, "However,
police department e-mail is *NOT* public information."

"Are you sure you won't be caught?"

"Pretty sure. I'm using the easy way in."

"The easy way? What's that?"

"Remember that cop I told you about? The one who seemed to know what
was going on?" Alex nodded. "I memorized his name plate and badge
number. Ten-to-one they are his user-id and password. Unless he got
clever and changed it, of course."

Sgt. R.D. Hutton of the Sunnydale Police Department (Badge #0640)
might have been clever about police work, but not apparently about
computers. Not only hadn't he changed his password, but he never
deleted his read e-mail until he had to either. The subject lines
were (to say the least) enlightening.

    SD #1164 - Exsanguination Attack Protocols
    Re: Who do they think they're kidding?
    I think I saw one
    Status Report: The Bronze incident
    SD #1165 - Departmental Policy on Night Attacks
    SD #1166 - Special Protective Gear Authorized for Night Patrols
    Yeah, but what if they aren't Christian?
    Volunteers wanted for Special Night Tactical Unit
    Who ya gonna call ... S.N.T.U.
    Where's Nick Knight when you really need him?
    SD #1167 - Special Weapons Authorized for Night Patrols
    Where do I get silver bullets?
    Hey, Lone Ranger, you made a miSTAKE!
    SD #1168 - Patrol Update for Sunnydale High School Area

"Well," said Alex, "I guess that answers our question."

"They know," Willow confirmed as she logged off the officer's
account. "At least about vampires."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"At least for them. Maybe not so good for us."

"Why not? They *are* on our side, right?" Even though Alex hadn't
actually decided yet whether or not to join the team, she certainly
considered them to be the good guys. Willow was about to reply when
they were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling in the driveway.
Alex looked at the clock. "That's probably Mom now. She has farther
to come, but usually gets home fir..."

Again they were interrupted, but this time by the sound of a woman's
scream from outside. Both girls stared at each other in horror for a
second, then bolted down the stairs.

                         *   *   *   *   *

ON THE SEASON OPENER: Guess what! Buffy is human after all. Cool!

--
          +-------------------------------------------------+
          | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. <[e-mail]>|
          | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html |
          +-------------------------------------------------+



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3: The God of Nine Walls 13/14 by JJ
Date: 19 Sep 1997 20:53:00 -0400

Okay next to the last part, then an epilogue, then I'm done.

I'm kinda experimenting with timing in this part.  You'll see what I mean.
Please let me know if you think it works or not.  And before people tell me
that they were confused by the ending, it's gonna be explained in Part 14.

Thanks again for all the feedback to those who've been providing it.  I
said that this part would show J Northcott's influence, but now that I read
it I see it doesn't.  It'll be in the epilogue.

Thanks!

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  No spoilers for any real episode
Rating:  PG-13/R for violence
Warnings:  Mild language.  Violence.
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 13
Xander could hear Willow calling him, his mind in a fugue of pain.  His
stomach felt strangely wet, then he realized that he was bleeding.
Profusely.  He could feel Willow pressing something against his stomach, an
action that made him wince.  He felt Willow's hands caress his face,
leaving a trail of his own blood across his cheek and forehead, then felt
her lips gently touch his.  He groaned softly.

Buffy's home.  Joyce Summers' voice rang in his head.  Then Scapino's giggling.

They were moving now.  Willow picked him up.  Held him.  Like Cordelia.
Running down the tunnels.

Then memory.

Eight years ago.  "Hurry! Hurry!"  Buffy screamed, holding open the access
door that led into the school's boiler room.  Xander helped Cordelia move
quickly as best he could, leaning on her shoulder and hobbling towards the
light of the doorway.  Each step grated the broken bone of his leg against
itself, earning him a grunt of pain.  Angel had already carried Giles
through the door, the Watcher's back broken by the vampires, but Cordelia
didn't have Angel's strength and she and Xander had fallen behind.

"Leave me!" he said, trying to push away from her, but her grip only tightened.

"Not a chance!" she shot back, focusing her attention on getting the two of
them to safety.  In the darkness behind them they could hear the vampires
rapidly gaining.

"Goddamn it!"  Xander swore, grabbing the side of the narrow tunnel for
support, pushing off it to hurry the two friends down the corridor.

"Hurry!"  Buffy screamed again, straining to hold the door open.  Angel
came up behind her; he had set Giles on the ground.  "Hold it open," she
said, running back into the tunnel after the stragglers.

One of the vampires grabbed the back of Cordelia's blouse, yanking her
around, but was surprised when she shoved her fist into its nose.  Xander
fell forward and landed with painful thud;  he felt a clawed hand wrap
around the ankle of injured leg and start to pull.  Despite the pain,
Xander kicked at the vampire with his good leg, futilely.  He could hear
Cordelia's screams as she struggled with the three vampires that were
attacking her.  He reached for the leg of one them , trying to pull it off
her.  "Leave her alone!"  he shouted.

Eighteen years ago, Xander's heart stopped, seeing Angel cradling her
still, wet form in his arms.  "She's dead," the vampire said, after a while.

Eight years ago.  The vampire that was attacking him began to crawl on top
of him, its wet mouth revealing yellowed, glistening fangs.

"Ki-ya!" A scream in the air earned the vampires' attention as Buffy leapt
to the rescue.  She grabbed the vampire off of Xander and with a loud
crack, twisted its head and broke its neck.  It wasn't dead, but the damage
would incapacitate it.  She followed by sweeping the legs out from under
one of the vampires tearing at Cordelia, followed by two quick kicks to the
fallen vampire's kneecaps that smashed them into pieces.

Eighteen years ago, Xander said, "But there's still a chance.  CPR?"

Eight years ago, faced with only two opponents, Cordelia managed to head
butt one of them as she tried to pull away from the other.  "There're more
of them coming!"  she screamed to Buffy.

Eighteen years ago, Xander exploded with relief as the girl's heart started
again, her mouth spitting out the water she had swallowed.

Eight years ago, Buffy grabbed the vampire Cordelia had head butted from
behind and shoved her fingers into its nostrils ripping up and out so that
she practically tore the cartilage off its face.  No more stakes, no more
crosses, no more holy water.  No weapons.  All of it had gone to
frustrating the Anointed One's ritual.

Eighteen years ago, Xander heard her say, "No, I feel different, stronger."

Eight years ago, she had called them together in the library that last
time.  "Guys, the Anointed One is going to try to open Hellmouth.  I need
your help to stop it."

"I can't find Willow.  I tried,"  Angel apologized to the group, looking
especially at Xander.

"Then we'll just have to do without her help,"  Buffy sighed.

Eighteen years ago, Xander heard her say, "No, I feel different, stronger."

Eight years ago, Buffy pulled the last vampire off Cordelia and smashed its
face into a pulp, dropping it on the ground with its other wounded
bretheren.  She shoved Cordelia towards the door and picked up Xander like
a small child.

They ran through the door into the boiler room, the undead coming after
them.  Angel slammed the door shut.  Buffy returned Xander to Cordelia's
care.  Giles on the ground groaned.  There was a moment of pristine
silence, the only sound being the roar of the furnace beside them.  Then
the banging on the other side began.

"Buffy!"  Angel shouted, placing his shoulder against the door, pushing
against the intruders.  Buffy ran beside him and added her strength to his.

"What are we going to do?"  Cordelia asked, the strength in her voice
mitigated by the terror in her eyes.

"This door won't hold them for long," Buffy said, feeling the thick metal
already beginning to buckle against the hands of the darkness.  "We're
gonna have to make a run for it."

"One of us has to stay,"  Angel whispered to her, indicating the door.
"They're too injured to get away if the vampires break through.  Get Giles
and go."

Buffy looked at him intensely, then said loudly, "You get Giles, then get
out.  I'm the Slayer, I'll hold them here."

"We all stay,"  Xander added, impulsively, having overheard Angel's comment..

Buffy gave him a look that was a mixture of incredulance and thankfulness.
But it disappeared when she felt a sharp kick against the door she was
holding close.  It would not hold for much longer.  "Guys, get out!" she
yelled.  No one moved.

"For God's sake, please!"  she cried, looking at Angel for support.  He
didn't move him from his spot at the door.  "You can't punch me out and I
can't punch you out, because then there's no one to carry Giles." she told
him quietly. "Sometimes there are no choices."

She turned to Cordelia.  "Please."  There was another sharp kick against
the door, the hinges began to groan.  As if an unspoken understanding
passed between the two women, Cordelia nodded silently, and quickly began
to help Xander towards the stairs up to the school, but he pulled violently
against her.

"No," he said, angry tears rolling down his cheek, but Cordelia only leaned
over and whispered softly and quickly into his ear.  He didn't remember
what she said to him that night, but yielded to her, looking back at Buffy
while gently sobbing, "No."

They waited upstairs for what seemed like an eternity for Angel to come up
with Giles.  Angel would look at neither of them as they hurried down the
school hall towards the exit.

They were just outside the gates when Angel stopped and set Giles down.
"I'm going back for her," he declared, but it was too late, because the
school exploded in a bright fireball.

Eighteen years ago, Xander heard her say, "No, I feel different, stronger."
---
Cordelia wept in the hospital waiting room.  The sound broke Xander's heart
and he wanted very much to join her.  He watched Angel standing at the
window, staring blankly out at nothing.  Xander had to be strong for what
needed to be done now.  He dialed the number carefully.  It rang only twice.

"Hello?" the woman's voice on the other end said.

"Mrs. Summers?  It's Xander,"  he said, already feeling the lump forming in
his throat.

"Xander, do you know what time it is?"  she said, mildly annoyed.

"I know," he answered, then paused to collect himself, "Mrs. Summers,
there's been an accident."

"I know," the woman said.  "Buffy just came home.  She looks like a mess."

"What?"

"Buffy's home," the woman said, then there was a high-pitched giggle and
the line went dead.
---
They rushed from the hospital to the Summers' residence, but found the door
wide open.  Joyce  Summers was dead on the floor, strangled with the phone
cord.  There was no sign of Buffy.
---
"Xander?"  Willow said, shaking him gently.

HIs eyes slowly opened, blinded by the morning light.  His mouth felt dry.
He smiled lazily at the beautiful woman looking down at him.  "Chris?" he
mumbled to the smiling young man behind her.

"Hi, Dr. Harris," Chris said.

He looked around carefully.  They were surrounded by forest and chirping
birds.  "What happened?  Did we stop the God?"

Willow nodded, "It's over."
---
End Part 13





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Anya <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Disaster Stiketh!
Date: 19 Sep 1997 21:49:42 -0400

Hi All!

More archive fic..yep, that's right, disaster strikes again!


Disaster Striketh!
by the Anya!

The Anointed One howled in rage, and struck out at the nearest
vampire.  His tiny hands sunk into the soft white flesh at the throat,
and ripped the jugular right out.  "I WANT IT BACK!!!"  He screamed,
waving his gory hand at the wide-eyed audience.

"We working on it, Great One!"  One of the braver members of the
vampiric community dared to speak, humbly bent down on one knee.

"Why is it offline?"  His young sounding voice bore only tones of
utterly reasonable calm.  The wild fervor in his eyes spoke of near
hysteria.

"That is unknown, August One."  Another spoke, "We have a plan,
however.  We intend to grab the Slayer's friend, the one skilled with
computers.  Perhaps SHE can find the archive."

Colin seemed to muse this over. "Yes...yes, and if she fails, we kill
her."  He frowned suddenly, a thought occurring to him. "However, she
had BETTER be delivered to me without a scratch, indent, hole or
puncture mark anywhere on her body.  Is that understood?"

A general murmur rippled through his minions, and a chorus of "Yes's"
rang out.  "Good," He murmured, staring at the horrible white screen
and it's evil message: 'Sorry, the server is refusing connections
right now. Try again later.'

"No." He muttered, pressing the "reload" button. "I want a connection
NOW!"


                        ***************************

The vampires moved quickly through the tunnels to the upper world.
"This would never have happened under the Master's guidance," One of
the older vampires commented.  "HE'D never have allowed his schemes to
get so out of control.  Only the Slayer and the humans were to get
addicted to that fanfic site, not the community."

A youngster shrugged. "Why not?  I think it's awesome!"

The oldster snorted, "Yeah, that's why we always get dusted in each
story."

The group seemed to consider this notion, but collectively all
shrugged.  "So what? It's still amazing!" Someone shouted.

The older vampire through his hands up, "Kids!"

                    *********************************

(Later)

Willow actually laughed at them, "You're NOT serious?"

"Yes, we are."  The one who had introduced himself as Damon nodded
vigorously.  "I'm personally at MY wits end, the Anointed one, all of
the youngsters, and most of the older ones are affected by this
spell.  It's gone out of control."

Willow snickered. "Good, maybe that will teach you all NOT to much
with stuff like that."

The vampire hissed, but Willow waved a mocking finger at him, "Tsk,
tsk..don't go there, or I won't try to get to the bottom of your A-1's
little withdrawal problem."

"Sorry," Damon muttered, scowling darkly at one of the near drooling
youngsters.  This had gone poorly, from the start.  A simple "grab and
run" procedure had turned into every predator's nightmare.  The
youngsters, seeing Willow deftly manipulate a computer, had all begun
to pay her homage as a Web Goddess.  Tripping over the large volume of
pious vampires was not conducive to abductions.

In fact, if he were to TRY to actually attack the girl, the masses
would rise up and slay HIM for touching their avatar.  This century
simply SUCKED.

"Can you help us?"  He asked plaintively, accepted defeat with all the
grace he could.

Willow's smile grew wide and very dark.  "What's in it for me?"

"Your life."  He replied, his voice dead and cold.

Willow's smile was absolutely malicious. "Not good enough.  Sweeten
the pot, honey, or no go."

Damon grumbled for a few moments, eyeing this slip of a girl with more
respect than he normally allocated to mortals.  "What do you want?"

"The details of the spell, and the anti spell if you have it."

"No."

"Then, have fun with the Anointed one.  I'm SURE the archive will come
up sometime soon...maybe by Tuesday, or Wednesday..it's only Friday
now..that's just four or five days..."  Willow turned, her back to
this vampire.  It was dangerous, but strangely enough, she felt
confident of her safety.  They needed HER skills too much to do
something stupid.

A low growl, followed by a heavy sigh announced her victory. "You
win.  Just..fix it!"

Willow held back from cheering. Her world was saved!  She could revert
her friends to their normal selves, and NOT be subjected to another
day in Cordelia's company.  Those hellish shoes HURT!!!

"We have a deal."  She turned to him.  "I'll contact Anya now, and
I'll MEET you at the library in a half hour with some information."
She held his gaze until he nodded.  Damon gathered up his drooling
flock of vampires, and disappeared into the night.

She stared after them for a long, quiet moment, before she bent down
to the porch steps, and gathered up her still humming laptop.
Straightening, she pensively stared out again into the darkness, a
slow, beautiful smile lighting her face.  "Y'know..I liked him...he
was kinda cute when he got desperate."  Tapping her finger against the
side of her nose, she tinkered with several ideas.

"I think the Anointed One needs to learn a valuable lesson. And making
him wait just MIGHT be the way to accomplish it."  Snickering softly,
she wandered back into her home, and up to the computer.

*The End*

Yes, the archive is missing for reason's I've YET to understand...  I
hope to have more details soon, and rectify this problem ASAP!

Toodles!
-Anya
[e-mail]
http://SlayerFanfic.alz.com



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Anya <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Blackmail in a Little Black Box 1/1, by Anya
Date: 21 Sep 1997 11:25:41 -0400

Hi!  Okay, first, I admit to being really, really in a weird mood.
Blame this story on allergies, antihistamines, and whatever else.

Second, to some of the people who've emailed me, sorry!  I tried to
write back, but I've been getting the mail back as undeliverable!


Blackmail in a Little Black Box
by Anya

Willow frowned at the printout in her hand, musing thoughtfully at her
options.  She had sent an email to Anya ages ago, and the only reply
at been the "Mailer daemon" message, from Anya's server.

What the heck was going on with that.  "I don't have time for
waiting," Willow murmured.  Her eyes rested briefly on the telephone,
and a decision was quickly made.

It was worth the long distance charges, to guarantee her own safety
while playing games with the vampires.  Her parents would understand,
they trusted her implicitly.  "The things I do for my friends.." She
sighed, pulling her address book up on the computer.  Scrolling down,
she found Anya's full name, address and phone number.

The handset was in her hand before she could even read the first three
digits.  Willow looked at the illuminated buttons, her computer
screen, and then out the window again.  "It's awfully late, what if I
wake her up?"  The flashing image of Buffy, Giles, Xander and Angel
all cluttered around the computer popped into her mind, and was
quickly followed by Cordelia, holding a pair of strappy sandaled
heels.

The buttons were pressed very fast.

<rrrrring> <rrrrrrrring> <rrrrr...bwrack..> The line clicked to life,
and a groggy "Whaaat?"  Echoed through.  "Whassit?"

"Anya?  Oh God, I'm sorry..but..I couldn't email you, it's not working
right, I don't think, when you're sending replies..and.."

"Willow?!"  The voice at the other end coughed, and another voice
spoke up, with a few grumbled mutters.  "Hold on, Willow.  I'll be
right with you."

A few moments of listening to some scrambling, and Anya was back.
"What's wrong, I've booted up the computer and ....oh my."

"Yeah, that."  Willow sighed.

"Eeks.  I've had EVERY email I've sent returned with a fatal error.
What the heck?"  Anya muttered.  "I bet you didn't get the email I
sent you, did you?"

Willow twined the cord around her fingernails, "Well...I got something
from you, but it's really scrambled."

"Hmmm."    Anya gnawed on the side of her thumb, while her free hand
idly stroked the soft fur of her dog's head resting on her lap.  Patch
didn't like having her nights interrupted, but for some bizarre reason
followed her Mistress everywhere, at all hours.

"Okay, I got an idea."  The archivist suddenly said.  "Do you have a
micro recorder?"

Willow blinked twice, "Yesss....Oh!"  She suddenly realized what the
fanfic writer was thinking.  "Oh!  I get it! That's perfect!"

"If it works, you mean."  Anya said dryly.

Willow, however, had dropped the phone and was rooting through her
desk.  Finding the little hand-held unit she hadn't used in well over
a year, she quickly checked for a tape and live batteries.  Everything
was in order, and she grabbed the phone.

"Got it!"

"Well then, we have an Anointed One to screw up, don't we?" The
archivist snickered.   "Let's do it!"

(Thirty minutes later)

Willow sat on the wide brick banister of the second floor rail-guard
of the school, her feet swinging in the free air.   Damon should be
here, anytime now, she mused.  Her thumb idly caressed the "play"
button on the recorder.

"Is the archive fixed?"  The vampire's voice seemed to come out of
nowhere.  In the space of time between heartbeats, he was standing
beside her, looking very agitated.

"Nope."  Willow said cheerfully.  "Anya says the entire ALZ com site
is down, and she has to wait until Biohaz finds out!"

Damon's face shifted as his agitation turned to icy fear.  The
Anointed One was going to have his heart.  "You HAVE to fix it NOW!"

"No can do, not right now."  Willow held up the small black recorder,
"However, I have a message for the Anointed One, from Anya."

Damon blinked.  "You do?"

"Yup."

"I'll take it to him."  His hand reached out for the tape, but Willow
quickly snatched it back.

"Sorry, I don't think so.  This thing was expensive."  She smiled.
"How about I play it for you, and you can repeat it to him?"

Damon seemed to toy with this idea.  He clearly didn't like it, but
the hacker held the upper hand.  What else was a 700 year old vampire
to do?

"Very well."  He grumbled.  "Play your little tape."

Willow's smile was malicious, "With Pleasure."

...............'This message is directed to the Anointed One of the
Vampires in Sunnydale California.  My name is Anya, and I am the
Slayer's Fanfic Archive Archivist.

                You, have been a very naughty little boy, and I am
greatly displeased with all and any of your actions.  I think I'm
going to kill you off in my next fanfic.

                I will NOT restore the archive until you agree to
several conditions.  I will know if these conditions have been met
through the office of my representative, Ms. Willow Rosenberg.

1.  You will release all notes and information, as well as the text
that you created, found, or derived the spell from, into the hands of
my representative.  By the term spell, I mean the "arcane construction
which influenced the natural order of things, contrary to nature's
plans."  And the alteration was the enforced addiction to fanfic.

2.  You will cease and desist in all attempts to resurrect the
Master.  If you don't stop, I'll come down and spank you, child abuse
laws or not.

3.  You will stop sending me those ridiculous emails.  I WILL NOT
write a story which hooks you up with the Slayer.  That's just
disgusting!  Get over yourself!

                Do these things, or I will permanently keep the fanfic
site down.


Toodles.....Anya!'

There was a sudden pause, before the archivist's voice resumed.  "Oh,
and Damon, if you hurt a hair on Willow's head, I can guarantee your
unlife will become increasingly unpleasant.  You never know what kind
of story the A-1 will see..now do you?"

Damon gaped at the tiny black unit, his mouth opening and closing like
he was a fish out of water.  "I can't repeat that to him!"

Willow shrugged, and hopped off the railing. "Well, I guess you have a
problem then, don't you."   She blew him a kiss, thoroughly enjoying
this superior position, and disappeared into the school's hallways.

The End



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3: The God of Nine Walls Part 14/15 by JJ
Date: 21 Sep 1997 17:10:19 -0400

Whew.  This part was really hard to write.  I'm not quite sure if I
expressed what I wanted to well, so any and all feedback and suggestions
would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks to everyone for their help.  Now for the epilogue (You'll notice I
added a part for the epilogue).

I think I stayed within the spirit of the Gone stories so anyone with
opinions or suggestions to that effect are welcomed to comment.

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  Spoilers for Prophecy Girl
Rating:  PG-13
Warnings:  Mild language.  Violence.
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Part 14
At the mouth of Hell, the rumblings under the earth had turned into violent
lurches as the God below strained against the net of moonlight that the
goddess had cast through the tunnels.  Angel watched Hecate cautiously.
"What are you going to do with that knife?"

"What?" she asked absentmindedly, brandishing the bloody knife in her hand
in his direction.  "Oh, sorry.  I'm not going to use it on you, if that's
what you're thinking.  What kind of barbarian do you take me for?"

Angel chuckled halfheartedly, "Good."

The goddess continued mirthlessly, "I'm going to use it on me."

Angel was nonplussed.  Hecate smiled sadly,  "I foresaw that this would end
badly.  I had hoped that I could quiet the God of Nine Walls and keep my
human life, but I see know that Willow was right.  The line must be drawn."
She wiped the knife on her pants leg, although it hardly mattered now
whether it were clean or not.  "it's been fun while it lasted.  The others
of my pantheon left this world many years ago.  I will enjoy seeing them
again."

Her demeanor shifted suddenly to authoritative distance, "I will slit my
wrists.  You must drink what comes forth; my magick combined with the
magick of the Old Ones within you should be enough to cease the God's
movement.  The necklace will help to channel it to the proper purpose."

Angel nodded his understanding, as she rested the knife's edge against her
forearm.  Her hand visibly trembled.  She laughed.  "I find it very amusing
at this late date that I should fear self-inflicted pain."

His face contorted into his demon's visage.  "There's another option," he
offered, taking the knife away from her and pulling her into his arms.

"Thank you," she whispered in gratitude, as he lowered his face to her neck
and drank from his first living being in almost a century.  The rich, warm,
metallic taste of her blood exploded in his mouth as he felt the course of
her power rush through his body.  The necklace around his throat glowed
hotly in response to the goddess' death.  As she sighed her last, she
managed, "Teleportational magick is tricky if you're unsure of your
destination."  Finally, her mortal heart stopped.

Angel's mind was on fire.  The glow that had surround the goddess now
emanated from him.  The world suddenly looked very different, everything
tied together with brightly colored string, currents of energy wafting
through the air aimlessly.  He reached out and touched one of those
currents and realized he could redirect it, could influence its color and
texture.  But most importantly he realized that her godhead was consuming
his body, like a cold fire.  He would have to act quickly, understanding
her final words and hoping that the one below would not sense what they
were doing.

From behind he could hear a wail of inhuman rage.  He wheeled around and
saw a petite figure rushing into the chamber.  He caught his breath when he
realized who it was.  "Buffy," he murmured  in disbelief.
---
In the brightly lit tunnels, Willow ran quickly towards the access to the
surface.  She carried Xander on her back, his periodic moans reassuring her
that he was still alive.  She had retrieved the pieces of the wax figure,
cursing whoever had created it as she put it back together.  Once that had
been done, she dug out the strands of hair that empowered the poppet and
destroyed it.

The objective now was to get out of the tunnels.  She understood the
significance of the moonlight flooding the tunnels.  Hecate was literally
holding the God down with her body, but Willow didn't care to speculate how
much longer this would work.  She reached the ladder leading up to City
Hall and, stopping only long enough to tighten her grip on Xander, climbed
rapidly to the surface.

As she emerged from the manhole, a young man meandering around the parking
lot started.

"Help me!" she shouted, dragging Xander up beside her.

The young man paused uncertainly then rushed over to her.  "Who are you?"
he asked, in a daze.

"Willow Rosenberg," she said, picking herself up off the ground, "This is..."

"Dr. Harris!"  the young man exclaimed.

"Who are you?" she asked, surprised.

"I'm one of his students, Chris," he said, reaching down to help Willow
pick up the wounded man.

Willow reached into Xander's pocket and pulled out his keys, tossing them
to the young man, "Chris, we're parked not far from here.  Help me get him
to the car, then I need you to drive us out of town, okay?"

"Sure," he answered, cautiously, uncertain of what was happening.

"Come on," she ordered, lugging Xander towards escape.
---
Angel, with a god's vision, saw immediately that what looked like Buffy
wasn't her.  The thing before him now was twisted and ugly on the inside,
with dark malformed roots reaching into the earth below.  "Hello, lover
boy," it said, its voice harsh and cold.

"What are you?" he demanded, the back of his mind working out the logistics
of what he/Hecate had planned.

The contorted clown bowed deepily, its right arm hanging limply at its
side, "I am the extra-ordinary Prince of the Autopsy, Scapino of Nine
Walls.  I am Buffy of Nine Times Two Summers."

*Keep him distracted* the goddess' voice in his head spoke.

"You're not Buffy,"  Angel challenged.

"I have been Buffy for as long as you have known me," it said, circling
around the vampire and the two bodies next to him.  "It is good that you
have killed that bitch goddess.  Come, kiss me and we shall share power
until time ends."

"You're not Buffy,"  Angel repeated angrily.

"I am Buffy," the demon said snidely, "And I have you and the boy to thank
for that.  You allowed me to leave the pool so many years ago; it was you
who allowed her to carry the germ of me back into the world."

Eighteen years ago, Angel said, "You'll have to do it.  I have no breath."

"Oh god,"  Angel whispered now.

"Who did you think encouraged her to give in to you?  Did you think she
would have allowed you to touch her as you did those nights?  Your fumbled
attempts at pleasure?  I made love to her in her dreams a thousand times
over and her screams were exquisite.  And in the end, it was I who saved
her and you who left her to die."

"Bastard!"  Angel snarled, almost leaping out of the circle at the demon.
A force held him back.

"I have already repaid the boy for his pains,"  Scapino sneered through
Buffy's mouth, stepping to the edge of the circle.  "Do you but step out of
the circle and I shall settle accounts with you as well!"

In his mind, Angel could hear the goddess drawing the magick together for
one last spell, her voice resonant as she called down the moon.  He felt
the mild pain in his legs as he began to lose cohesion.

"I have a better idea,"  Angel said, lashing out suddenly and grabbing the
Prince by its collar.  "Why don't you come in?"

Angel dragged the demon into his arms and sank his teeth into its neck.

The moonglow in the tunnels faded as the God of Nine Walls lurched once
more, and broke through.
---
"The moon's back,"  Chris said, the car speeding down the road.

"What?"  Willow asked from the backseat, cradling Xander against her.  His
hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his eyebrows knitted
together in agony.  Willow's mind raced with options.  She did not want him
to die, but she would not make him like her.  Breaking the poppet spell had
done something to alleviate the wound, but he was still in danger.

"It was gone, but now it's back,"  Chris explained, his voice slurring.

Willow wondered if he had been drinking, but she looked up nevertheless.
The moon was glowing particularly bright.  And large.

She looked out the window at the quiet homes, porch lights left on for the
evening.  So many sleeping people.  She wanted to roll down the windows and
shout to them all to flee, but it would do no good.  They were all doomed.
Her only hope remained in getting the three of them away.

Suddenly her vision began to blur.

"Chris, are you seeing double?" she asked, tentatively.

"Yeah!" he agreed, surprised.

She looked up at the moon again.  This time, it was definitely larger,
filling up half of the sky.

"Chris, are you seeing double?" she heard herself ask, as an afterimage, as
she said, "Chris, hurry up, we're almost out of town!"

"Yeah!" he agreed, surprised.

Suddenly, they heard a high keening from behind them as the earth beneath
them began to collapse.  Willow looked out to see a giant tentacle rising
into the air, flailing madly as it was joined by another, then another.
Hecate and Angel had failed.

"Chris, hurry up, we're almost out of town!"  Willow said, "Watch out for
the road!"

"Yeah!" he agreed, surprised, as the street before them tented upwards, gas
mains and sewer pipes breaking above ground.  He turned sharply to avoid
the destruction; the buildings that lined the street were already beginning
to burn.  Willow closed her ears to the screaming as people were being
wakened to the sound of their death.

The distortion was growing worse as the town shifted further out of phase.
The multiple images separating from each other made her eyes water.

She looked again at the God rising from the earth, his thick coils of scaly
dark flesh grasping for the sky, then realized that he was colliding with,
and disappearing into, the image of the moon that covered the city.  A
single, yellow eye shot through with blood emerged from the earth and
blinked at the destruction its body wrought.  The God, eager for his
freedom, didn't realize what was happening, but Willow understood.  Hecate
couldn't stop the God, so she was moving the world around him, shifting him
and his surroundings out of time.  This was teleportational magick of the
highest order, trading one dimensional prison for another--this one bound
to the moon and not to the Hellmouth.

The car tore past the burning buildings and the collapsing streets and
drove past a sign saying "You are leaving Sunnydale, The Town Built on
Love."
---
Below, the tentacles of the God of Nine Walls breaking through the dirt had
thrown Angel to the ground.  He would be crushed soon by the muscular
appendages ripping through the earth.  It didn't matter; he could feel
himself disintegrating, as he looked down at the face of the woman he had
loved.  She was dead now.

He could feel the demon that had been inside her struggling within him as
Angel fed its power to Hecate's spell: the Moon Mother, the Son of the Old
Ones, and the Unholy Spirit.  He leaned down and kissed Buffy's dead lips,
whispering his love in a last burst of moonlight.
---
When they were out of the city limits, Chris drove them all to Claremont
Bluff, which overlooked the town, and watched as the God of Nine Walls
disappeared into the enormous portal, taking with him the entirety of
Sunnydale.  Finally, the last of the God disappeared, and in a brilliant
flash, the portal closed, leaving only the quiet night, a gentle breeze,
and an expanse of virgin forest where her home had once been.

"What happened?" Chris asked, exhaling slowly, but Willow said nothing,
returning to the car and curling up beside Xander, who was resting
comfortably now.  She closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep.
---
End Part 14





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail]
Subject: Re: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3: The God of Nine Walls Part 14/15 by JJ
Date: 22 Sep 1997 02:09:17 -0400

Damn man, this story's been good!  I'll be sad to see it go!  I can
describe it in one word:  EPIC!

Oh, and I'm getting a very Lovecraftian vision of the God...

 ------------------ViAsHiNo------------------
|    NOSFERATU PrImE MiNiStEr Of WhUp-@$$!   |
|         kEePeR oF tHe MaStEr'S bOnEs       |
|    MeMbEr MiSs CaLeNdAr'S tEcHnOpAgAnS     |
|            "I *hate* that girl!"           |
|___-tHe AnNoInTeD oNe, "WhEn ShE wAs BaD"___|



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (sah)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: ADMIN:  List rules
Date: 22 Sep 1997 14:44:54 -0400 (EDT)

1. Fiction should have Buffy characters in it and clearly be related
to Buffy.  Crossovers are great, and expected, but general
vampire/monster stories that aren't in the Buffy universe and don't
use Buffy characters belong somewhere else.

2. Discussion of posted fiction is permitted onlist.  Please put
"DISCUSS" in your subject line.  Requests for missing story parts
should go directly to the author, and not be posted to the list.

Discussion that is not related directly to the fiction should go over
to the general Buffy list.  Discussion of fiction is expected to
follow common netiquette guidelines and use PG-13 language.

3. No advertising of <any> items or services, Buffy related or not,
and no posting of non-story items such as .gifs, sound files, etc..
No attached files of <any> kind-- if your mailer makes your fiction
into attached files, you need to find another way to get it to the list.

4. If you're writing a story and including advance information on a
new episode, and you're posting your story earlier than the national
viewing time, please:

     **Mark the post as a "spoiler" in the subject header.
     **Leave about twelve lines (blank or with non-spoiler info) at
          the top of the post.

This ensures that anyone w*o doesn't like knowing about an episode
ahead of time is "protected."  :)   The blank space is for people whose
mailers automatically open up the next piece of mail, without giving
them a chance to see "spoiler" in the header.

Spoiler warnings are not necessary after the start of the episode's
national viewing time, which is currently set at 9 p.m. Mondays,
Eastern Standard Time.  Spoiler warnings are not necessary for reruns.

5.  This list is absolutely NOT for erotic fiction.  <Nothing> stronger
than sexually PG-13 material is to be posted to the list under any
circumstances.  A story may be R rated for violence or language, however.

If you have a question about something's suitability for posting, feel
free to ask one of the listowners.  Sending sexually explicit material
will get you immediately and permanently uns*bscribed.  No exceptions.

6.  By subscribing and/or posting to this list, you acknowledge that
Buffy the Vampire slayer and all characters associated with either
the televised series or the motion picture were created by Josh Whedon
and are owned by Mutant Enemy productions, Kuzui Productions,
Sandollar Productions, and 20th Century Fox.  All stories posted to
this list are for entertainment purposes only, are not sold for profit
of any kind, and are not intended to infringe on any copyrights.

7.  When posting stories to the list, please follow the following
formatting guidelines
--No story parts longer than 250 lines
--No lines longer than 75 characters
--Turn off your "smart quotes"-- many readers receive these as garbage
or weird symbols
--Put the title of the story in the subject header, indicate if it's a
multipart story, and if so what part this is.  Example:   Buffy Meets
Godzilla (2/65) indicates that this post is part two of a 65 part story.

8. If a story is rated "R" for language/violence, indicate this in an
introduction.  For example, "There's a really bloody fight scene at
the end of this part" or "if you don't like dismemberment, stop
reading now!"  If there's <any> chance that someone might be disturbed
by something in your story (even if it's not rated R) please include
some kind of warning up front.

9.  And last, but not least, the listowners reserve the right to deny
subscription (new, renewed, or continued) to the list for any
individual(s).

PLEASE NOTE:  not following any or all of these rules will get you
the following:

**First offense:  offender is uns*bscribed for one week.
**Second offense:  offender is uns*bscribed to the Buffyfic list for a
minimum of three months.
**If the offender returns and does it again, they're offlist
permanently.

As noted above, posting sexually explicit material is the exception --
you go straight to permanent unsubbing.

Again, welcome!  If  you have any questions about these rules, please
contact either one of us offlist.  If you have subscription problems or
questions, the fastest way to get h*lp is to e-mail one of us at the
addresses below, <not> at the [e-mail] addy which is the
"official" e-mail owner of the list.

Jill Kirby ([e-mail])
 &
Sharon Himmanen ([e-mail])
Listowners, Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fiction List
[e-mail]





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3: The God of Nine Walls 15/15 by JJ
Date: 23 Sep 1997 18:56:57 -0400

It's done.  sigh.  aaahhh.  Now to finish Beach Blanket Buffy, or start my
next one, which will be probably be a Xander/Cordelia one done in the
spirit of Dangerous Liaisons, I think.

Please let me know what you've thought of this.  I must warn you know that
there is a non-explicit sexual situation in this part.  Nothing that you
couldn't see on Melrose Place or something, but just to let you know that
it's there.

JJ

Title:  Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls
Author:  JJ
email address: [e-mail]
Distribution:  With permission of the author
Spoiler Warning:  Spoilers for Prophecy Girl
Rating:  PG-13
Warnings:  Mild language.  Sexual Situations
Classification: UTB
Summary:   Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's
Fanfic Archive.  I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all
you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric
killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was
faked.  Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them
forever.
Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't
shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production
companies do.  Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my
evil twin sister, Lisa Rose.  I'm also not making a red cent of any of
this, so there's no point in suing me.

Epilogue

It was a typically clement lunch hour on a typically clement day at
Sunnydale High School.  Willow and Xander sat down at the fountain in the
school's courtyard, as Willow finished describing her dream the night
before.

"Wow,"  Xander said.  "That was an amazing dream."

Willow nodded, still shaken by her nightmare.  "Everything was gone."

Buffy Summers strolled over and joined them, opening her brown bag and
taking out a tuna salad on whole wheat.  "Trig was a total bear this
morning.  eww.  Tuna."

She took an unhappy bite into the sandwich.

"Hey, Buff,"  Xander said, "Willow had a really cool nightmare.  You were
possessed by this psycho demon who went around skinning people's faces,
Willow turned into an Amazon, and I was a university professor--fulfilling
my as yet unrealized potential, thank you---then Sunnydale got shifted off
the planet."

Buffy slowly stopped chewing, smiling blithely.  "That's not possible.
This is the  dream.  Can you have a dream inside a dream?"

"What?"  Willow asked, startled, turning to look at Buffy only to realize
that the sandwich she was eating was the Anointed One's face.  She screamed
and leapt to her feet, turning back to Xander, who suddenly was older and
wore a goatee.

"What's wrong?"  Xander said, popping up and taking the girl by the shoulders.

"Do you want the rest?"  Buffy asked, holding up what remained of the
Anointed One's face.  "I'm afraid my eyes are too big for my stomach."

Suddenly Buffy and Xander froze.  "Hello,"  a voice said from behind her.
Willow slowly turned around.  It was Angel.

"I see you're in this dream too."  Willow said.

"Just for a little while," Angel said, smiling.  "I wanted to say goodbye."

"Are you a ghost, or just part of the dream?"

"Maybe I'm just necessary"  Angel responded, indicating for her to walk
beside him as crossed the school yard.  "It's nice to be in sun again, even
if it's only a dream."

"I suppose,"  Willow said.  "Did you survive the spell?"

Angel looked at her cryptically, "Would you like to find out for sure?  The
town still exists; you just have to know how to get there."

"The Mists of Sunnydale,"  Willow mused.

"What?" Angel asked, to which she responded with a weak laugh.

"Sorry.  Marion Zimmer Bradley reference."

"I see,"  Angel replied, although truly he didn't.

Willow stopped suddenly, covering her eyes.  "I'm sorry.  This is harder
than I thought it would be."

Angel took her into his arms.  "It's alright, you know.  Things happen;
it's not your burden."

"I'll miss it.  All of it," she wept.

"Someday you will join us, and we will play in these fields which are
paradise."

Willow felt a light tickle on the side of her neck, prompting her to open
her eyes in the waking world.
---
Xander smiled down at her; he had been blowing on the nape of her neck.
They were in a Motel Six just outside of Detroit.

"Good morning," he whispered, stroking the smooth skin of her exposed
belly, propping himself up on the bed on his elbow.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked, touching his face tenderly, his
lips meeting her palm.

"A couple of hours," he answered, quickly adding when he saw her concerned
expression, "I don't mind.  I just watch you sleep."

She sat up pulling the bedclothes around her as he planted playful kisses
along her spine.  She giggled.  "You really should stop that.  The manager
already thinks you're a pervert for sharing a room with a sixteen year old
girl."

"We both know you're not sixteen," he growled, kissing her ardently on the
lips.

"Well, Daddy Harris, we've got a couple of hundred miles to go today, so
stop trying to distract me," she climbed out of the bed and headed towards
the bathroom.  Before closing the door, she looked out at him, "It'll be
nice to see Cordelia again."

Xander smiled as she shut the door, listening to the sound of the shower
spray.  He sighed contentedly and pulled on his boxers, padding over to
their knapsacks and pulling out a map to chart the day's drive.  Sunnydale
was no longer on any map they could find.  No news agency, no government
agency had noted its disappearance.  It was as if the town had never
existed.  Even now his memory of the town was becoming blurred, although he
could distinctly remember the people he had known there.  Willow had
explained to him what had been necessary to save the world, but it was
amazing to him that it was all gone--his parents, his work, his house, his
life.

He spread the map out on the cheap table in the room and became lost in
routes and highways.  A gentle brush against the back of his neck startled
him as Willow wrapped her arms around him from behind.  Her wet hair
dripped onto his bare skin as she looked over his shoulder.  He looked up
at her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

"Shower's free," she said, absorbed in the map before them.

"Not for long," he chuckled, getting up suddenly and picking her up,
leading to a peal of surprised laughter from Willow.  With a playful battle
cry, he rushed into the bathroom with her and slammed the door.

The End.





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Casey A Carpenter)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Xander and the Klew Brick (1/1)
Date: 24 Sep 1997 15:13:27 EDT

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Buffy: The Vampire Slayer or Forever
Knight characters, they belong to their respective owners.
Also, I blame the silliness of this very short story on lack of sleep and
a sugar/caffine rush :)

Spoiler warning: This momentarily touches on the teaser for When She Was
Bad before descending into weirdness.

Xander and the Klew Brick (1/1)
by Annanara ([e-mail])


"Xander!" Willow exclaimed.

"Sorry, I can't help myself, your nose looks so tasty," Xander jokingly
apologized.  He took a napkin and began wiping the cold ice cream off the
nose of his best friend.

As he was doing so, he began gazing at Willow, noticing how pretty she
really is just as something grazed the side of his head and barely missed
Willow.

"Oww!!" he yelled, "What was that??!!"

Willow immediately began to tend to Xander's head, which was a bit hard
since he kept turning his head to see what hit him.  In no time flat, he
found the offending object.  It was a larg red brick with the word "klew"
etched into the stone.

Hm...funny spelling, Xander thought.  He picked up the brick and was
about to throw it out of frustration and pain when a female voice
shouted.  "Wait!!"

Xander and Willow turned to find themselves facing an auburn haired woman
dressed in a lab coat.  "I'm so sorry about that!" the woman exclaimed.
"I was aiming for a friend of mine, but somehow he managed to miss
getting hit...again."

"And you would be..." Willow began.  "Natalie, Natalie Lambert," the
woman supplied, smiling.

"Oh, well, it looks like Xander's alright, so I wouldn't worry," Willow
said, grinning back.  She instantly recognized the doctor's name and the
brick.  However, she wasn't going to tell Xander about the Mysterious
Klew Brick and what it did.  That was a secret reserved only for certain
women.

The woman sighed in relief.  "I was hoping it would finally get through
Nick's thick skull and give him a clue, but I'm afraid my aim was bad.
Again, I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."  The woman
quickly grabbed the klew brick and flashed a secretive smile to Willow
before vanishing into the night.

"What a strange woman," Xander muttered, rubbing the side of his head.

Willow smiled.  Oh, I don't know, she thought, grazing Xander with the
Mysterious Klew Brick may just be what he needed.
The End

Annanara
GASPer, Keeper of Giles' Skip
"That went well.  I think." <skip> --Giles, SAR
Oh dear...this -has- gone the way of my FK/Borg Smurf story, hasn't
it...--me, after rereading this story



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Dust in the Bronze
Date: 26 Sep 1997 14:40:44 -0700

A new arrival on the Little Buffy Site:

DUST IN THE BRONZE

(To the tune of "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas)

You hesitate
Only for a moment, but it's long enough
Feel your hate
Exploding on her stake just like a powder puff
Dust in the Bronze
Now you are just dust in the Bronze

Same old game
Taunting you, she slays you and your kindred weep
Your huge frame
Crumbles to the floor for janitors to sweep
Dust in the Bronze
You're a pile of dust in the Bronze

Hey, run away!
Nothing you can do here but dissolve and drop
Girls will slay
And all your minions can't one single slayer stop
Dust in the Bronze
Everyday more dust in the Bronze

Dust in the Bronze
Floor to ceiling dust in the Bronze

Dust in the Bronze
Fear the maid who dusts in the Bronze

(Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose;
title inspired by Jim).  Visit the Little Buffy Site:
http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (sah)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: ADMIN:  List rules
Date: 29 Sep 1997 09:56:03 -0400 (EDT)

1. Fiction should have Buffy characters in it and clearly be related
to Buffy.  Crossovers are great, and expected, but general
vampire/monster stories that aren't in the Buffy universe and don't
use Buffy characters belong somewhere else.

2. Discussion of posted fiction is permitted onlist.  Please put
"DISCUSS" in your subject line.  Requests for missing story parts
should go directly to the author, and not be posted to the list.

Discussion that is not related directly to the fiction should go over
to the general Buffy list.  Discussion of fiction is expected to
follow common netiquette guidelines and use PG-13 language.

3. No advertising of <any> items or services, Buffy related or not,
and no posting of non-story items such as .gifs, sound files, etc..
No attached files of <any> kind-- if your mailer makes your fiction
into attached files, you need to find another way to get it to the list.

4. If you're writing a story and including advance information on a
new episode, and you're posting your story earlier than the national
viewing time, please:

     **Mark the post as a "spoiler" in the subject header.
     **Leave about twelve lines (blank or with non-spoiler info) at
          the top of the post.

This ensures that anyone w*o doesn't like knowing about an episode
ahead of time is "protected."  :)   The blank space is for people whose
mailers automatically open up the next piece of mail, without giving
them a chance to see "spoiler" in the header.

Spoiler warnings are not necessary after the start of the episode's
national viewing time, which is currently set at 9 p.m. Mondays,
Eastern Standard Time.  Spoiler warnings are not necessary for reruns.

5.  This list is absolutely NOT for erotic fiction.  <Nothing> stronger
than sexually PG-13 material is to be posted to the list under any
circumstances.  A story may be R rated for violence or language, however.

If you have a question about something's suitability for posting, feel
free to ask one of the listowners.  Sending sexually explicit material
will get you immediately and permanently uns*bscribed.  No exceptions.

6.  By subscribing and/or posting to this list, you acknowledge that
Buffy the Vampire slayer and all characters associated with either
the televised series or the motion picture were created by Josh Whedon
and are owned by Mutant Enemy productions, Kuzui Productions,
Sandollar Productions, and 20th Century Fox.  All stories posted to
this list are for entertainment purposes only, are not sold for profit
of any kind, and are not intended to infringe on any copyrights.

7.  When posting stories to the list, please follow the following
formatting guidelines
--No story parts longer than 250 lines
--No lines longer than 75 characters
--Turn off your "smart quotes"-- many readers receive these as garbage
or weird symbols
--Put the title of the story in the subject header, indicate if it's a
multipart story, and if so what part this is.  Example:   Buffy Meets
Godzilla (2/65) indicates that this post is part two of a 65 part story.

8. If a story is rated "R" for language/violence, indicate this in an
introduction.  For example, "There's a really bloody fight scene at
the end of this part" or "if you don't like dismemberment, stop
reading now!"  If there's <any> chance that someone might be disturbed
by something in your story (even if it's not rated R) please include
some kind of warning up front.

9.  And last, but not least, the listowners reserve the right to deny
subscription (new, renewed, or continued) to the list for any
individual(s).

PLEASE NOTE:  not following any or all of these rules will get you
the following:

**First offense:  offender is uns*bscribed for one week.
**Second offense:  offender is uns*bscribed to the Buffyfic list for a
minimum of three months.
**If the offender returns and does it again, they're offlist
permanently.

As noted above, posting sexually explicit material is the exception --
you go straight to permanent unsubbing.

Again, welcome!  If  you have any questions about these rules, please
contact either one of us offlist.  If you have subscription problems or
questions, the fastest way to get h*lp is to e-mail one of us at the
addresses below, <not> at the [e-mail] addy which is the
"official" e-mail owner of the list.

Jill Kirby ([e-mail])
 &
Sharon Himmanen ([e-mail])
Listowners, Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fiction List
[e-mail]





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Samantha McCullah)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Games (1/4)
Date: 30 Sep 1997 20:26:45 -0500 (CDT)

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the story. The almighty Joss owns
everything else. I'll return them when I'm done.

Games (1/4)
by: Samantha McCullah

Xander was sprawled unceremoniously on Willow's floor, pulling an
assortment of things from under her bed. They were supposed to be
studying, but Xander had an annoying way of getting out of it
everytime.

"Xander, we really should finish this homework," she told him. He
suddenly straightened up from under her bed, holding something in
his hands. He turned to face her with a smile.

"Hey, Will. Bet I can still beat you at this," Xander replied. Willow
looked at his hands. He held the one game that she could never beat
him at: Twister.
                  _________________________

An hour later...

Xander was doing a rather spectacular back bend under Willow, while
she was in a position that looked rather painful. He reached to the
pointer and managed to flick it.

"Right hand blue," He proclaimed. Willow looked to the blue circles
which were on the other side of Xander from where her hands currently
were. The only way she could make it work and not look obscene, was to
turn so that she was face down on top of him.

As she turned Xander caught a faint scent of perfume. <When did she
start wearing perfume?> he thought. Willow reached for the pointer
and gave it a good turn.

"Right foot red," she smiled at him. Give him credit, Xander tried.
Unfortunately, unlike Willow, he hadn't taken gymnastics for four
years. He collapsed in a heap and took Willow with him. The two
friends laughed until it hurt.

"I win," Willow stated. They lay there, Willow on top of him, for
several minutes while Xander took the time to actually look at his
best friend. Her hair was longer than he remembered and a
beautiful shade of auburn. She didn't wear her glasses anymore.
<When did that change?> he thought.

"Will, when did you stop wearing glasses?" he asked out loud.

"Two years ago, remember. I got contacts," she replied. That
moment the realized they were in a position that could look
suspicious, especially to Willow's father. Both of them
pushed away from each other, Xander back against her bed,
Willow back in her chair.

<What's going on here? How could I miss so many changes?>
Xander questioned himself. She was his best friend, and he
had missed so much. But most of all he had missed the moment
his feelings for her had changed. Suddenly he realized he
needed a cold shower, and fast.

"Will, I -," Xander began.
"Xander, I-," Willow, in unison. She stopped and laughed,"You
first."

Xander stopped and considered what he was about to say. Then
decided against it. She couldn't possibly feel the same way,
could she? "Will, I ... think I need to go home." It sounded lame,
he knew that, but he couldn't be in the same room with her, not
without doing something. He stood up and asked, "What were you going
to say?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied, disappointed. As Xander left, she got out
of the chair and laid down on the Twister mat. Willow closed her eyes
and daydreamed. <Someday...,> she thought.
---------------------------
end part one...

Samantha McCullah                                    [e-mail]
 "I fed off a flower person, and I spent the next six hours watching my
             hand move." - Spike




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Samantha McCullah)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Games (2/4)
Date: 30 Sep 1997 20:28:54 -0500 (CDT)

See part one for disclaimer.
----------------------------

Games (2/4)
by: Samantha McCullah

The Next Day...

When Xander arrived at school, he knew he wouldn't be able to
hang around with Buffy and Willow. Especially not Willow, he
knew that the minute he talked to her, the minute she looked
at him, he'd lose it. Yet something in him wanted to walk over
to her, smell her perfume, gaze into her eyes, kiss her lips,
touch her.... <Stop it!> he mentally chastized himself. <This is
neither the time nor the place.>

Xander desperately needed to talk to someone about this. <But who?
Buffy? No, she was Willow's best friend, and best friends don't
keep secrets. Not something this big and juicy. Giles?> Xander
snorted back laughter at that thought. <That leaves only...> his
thoughts trailed off as Cordelia strutted by; he shook his head.
<I'm not that desperate. I'll just have to chance it with Buffy.>
And he made his way over to the little group made up of Buffy, Willow,
and Giles.
                   ______________________

Buffy and Willow watched as a myriad of emotions sprang over Xander's
face and as he struggled with some decision.

"See, I told you he's acting strangely. You should have seen him run
out of my house last night," Willow commented.

"Yeah, I believe it now. I wonder what's wrong?" Buffy agreed. Giles,
walking by, managed to catch a snippet of their conversation.

"Hormones. The surging of hormones to the brain... and other regions
causes most men to act like idiots," Giles replied. He studied Xander
for a moment. "Either that or he's hearing voices in his head." Giles'
comments earned him a withering stare from Buffy. "Sorry."

In the distance Xander reached some decision and walked to the group.
                        ____________________

"Hey, guys," he said upon arrival. Xander was very careful not to
look at Willow, even though she was wearing that red sweater that
clung to certain places... <Where's a cold shower when you need one?>
he thought.

"Hi, Xander!" Willow exclaimed, her face bright. <God, why can't she
like me for more than a friend?> Xander's breath quickened and his
pulse soared. <Is this what its like to be in love?> he thought above
the pounding of his heart.

"Willow," he replied, rather calmly considering the emotions going
through his body. Against his better judgement, he studied her face.
She wore makeup the way he liked, very sparse. A strand of her auburn
hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it away from her face with
flick of her delicate hand. She wore fingernail polish that matched
her sweater. That damn sweater! He felt his pulse swiften again. He
turned away sharply; luckily the bell rang for first period, saving
Xander from futher embarrassment.

"Gotta go!" he stated before running off for the bathroom.
                _______________________

<Something *is* wrong with him,> Buffy thought, observing
Xander stare at Willow. Her heightened senses caught the quickening
of his breath. <It can't be... can it?> she thought again as realization
dawned. She smiled softly to herself. <Will's gonna be shocked.> Her smile
fell. <No, I could be mistaken. Must talk to Xander first.>

When the bell rang, she watched Xander rush off to parts unknown. Buffy
felt Willow's hesitant hand on her arm.

"Buffy? Do you think you could talk to him? Find out what's wrong,
please," Willow asked.

"Of course, Will. Why don't you come, too?"

"No, no. You saw how he was acting; he didn't want to even be around
me," she finished softly. <Oh, Will! If I'm right, he doesn't want to
be around you for a completely different reason than you're thinking.>
Buffy silently told her.

As Willow walked to class, Buffy stood with Giles. "Hormones, hmm?" she
asked with a smile. <I definitely gotta find out what's going on.>

end part two...

Samantha McCullah                                    [e-mail]
 "I fed off a flower person, and I spent the next six hours watching my
             hand move." - Spike




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Samantha McCullah)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Games (3/4)
Date: 30 Sep 1997 20:30:24 -0500 (CDT)

See part one for disclaimer
---------------------------
Games (3/4)
by: Samantha McCullah

Xander ran to the one place he could go with out Willow
following him: the boy's locker room. All the jocks would
already be dressed out, so he wouldn't have to answer their
questions or face their teasing. He slamed back the door
and went straight back into the showers, dropping his bag
along the way.

He turned the knob to cold and stepped under the spray fully
clothed. <God, that feels good.> Unfortunately, it did little
to stop his thoughts about Willow. He remembered the time last
summer when they had gone swimming. Strangely, he could remember
every detail of that day with perfect clarity. The color of her
swimsuit - blue, to match her eyes -, the way the water slid
down her arms and legs, and the feeling of her in his arms when
he had pulled her into the water.... Xander jumped slightly when
the cold jet was turned off.

"Ya know, Xander, you have to wear those cloths the rest of the day,"
Buffy commented. Xander sighed softly before sliding down the wall
to sit in his sopping clothing.

"Oh, I don't know. I thought maybe I'd stay here until school's over,"
he replied, burying his head in his hands, "At least then I wouldn't go
through what happened earlier again."

"Speaking of which, what happened earlier?" she asked.

"Nothing. Nothing, but a surge of blood to the nether regions," he replied.

"Is that all?" she asked, with a knowing smile.

"So you know? Great! Now I suppose Willow knows as well."

"No, I don't know. What are you talking about?" Buffy replied with that
damn smile again.

"GODDAMNIT!" he shouted, rising to his feet, then sinking back
down, "I love her," he sobbed quietly.

"Tell her!"

"Why? Just to find out she cares nothing for me beyond friendship?
To confess my love, and to have her laugh in my face?" he snapped back,
"No, I'm not going through that."

Buffy tensed then slapped him hard. "Calm down. Tell her how you feel, you
may be suprised."

Before Xander could reply, Willow's voice called from the door, "Buffy?
Xander? Are you in here?"

"Back here, Will!" Buffy replied.

"Please don't tell her," Xander begged, softly.

"On one condition. You tell her at the Bronze tonight," she replied,
just as softly. He looked pained for a moment before nodding.

"Xander! What happened?" Willow asked hurrying over to him.

"Nothing's wrong, Will. Xander just forgot that to take a shower
one must remove all clothing," Buffy answered for him. She shot a look
at Xander that read, 'Ask her.' He shook his head. Buffy glared at him.
"So, Will, you going to the Bronze tonight?"

"I-I don't think so. I really-," Willow began.

"C'mon, you gotta go," Buffy pleaded.

"All right, I'll go." Buffy shot a triumphant smile at Xander, who looked
ready to sink futher into the floor.
                   __________________

Equiped with some dry clothes, Xander went through the day with an over
all sense of dread. His entire romantic life could begin or end with
on word from her lips. At least he had finally faced the truth. <I love
Willow Rosenberg, and that scares me to death.>

When the final bell rang , Xander rushed out of the building without
saying a word to either Willow or Buffy. He raced home, in the door,
kissed his mother, and raced up the stairs. After slamming his door,
he walked to his closet and pulled open the door.

He scaned his clothes but saw nothing that would be could for what
he had to do. He needed something dark in case he needed to sink
into some convenient shadows. Finally settling on a black t-shirt,
jeans, and a white dress shirt to go over it, he was ready to face
the Bronze and the love of his life.
---------------------------
end part 3

Samantha McCullah                                    [e-mail]
 "I fed off a flower person, and I spent the next six hours watching my
             hand move." - Spike




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: [e-mail] (Samantha McCullah)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Games (4/4)
Date: 30 Sep 1997 20:32:07 -0500 (CDT)

See part one for disclaimer.

The song 'One Boy, One Girl' belongs to Colin Raye.

Games (4/5)
by: Samantha McCullah

Xander arrived at the Bronze fifteen minutes late, after nearly
turning around and going home four times. <But,> he rationalized,
<Willow will find out one way or another. Its better I tell her,
and she can laugh in my face personally.> He hesitated at the
door several moments, earning himself very dirty looks from
the bouncer, before finally paying the cover and walking in.

The Bronze was loud, smokey, and crowded as usual. Buffy and Willow
sat together at the juice bar. <God, she still wearing that sweater!>
he thought, as the hormones surged again. <I can't do it. Nope, nada.
I can't. I won't. Buffy can't make me.> Xander stepped around to the
other side of the pillar he had been leaning against.

"God," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"Shouldn't you be with your friends?" a voice asked from his right.
Xander didn't need to turn to see who it was. Angel. <That's right,
God. Rub salt in an open wound.>

"Can't. Too many conflicting emotions, too much blood rushing, but
you wouldn't know anything about that, would you, vamp boy?" Xander
asked, his defense mechanism kicking in.

"Still hung up over Buffy?"

"Oh, no. I've moved on," Xander said, moving to the other side of
the pillar to gaze at Willow. Angel followed his gaze; Xander heard
Angel's short laugh.

"Buffy told me about you and Willow. I didn't believe it until now,"
Angel commented.

"So she sent you over here to distract me, while she tells Willow herself,
right?" Xander replied.

"No, I was sent over here by Buffy to tell you, and I quote 'to get
his smartass self over here' unquote," Angel answered, heading towards
Buffy. <It has got to be a conspiracy,> Xander thought as he followed.

Willow turned to Xander as they walked up. "Hi," she said shly. <Great!
Buffy's told her. In a second she's going to say 'Leave me alone' and
walk out.> Xander heard Buffy clear her throat; he glanced at her. She
motioned with her eyes towards Willow. Xander's face went blank. Buffy
sighed, grabbed Angel's hand, and pulled him passed Xander.

"Tell her," she whispered as she walked by. <Maybe she didn't tell her,
after all.> Xander watched as Buffy continued to pull Angel out onto the
dance floor. As he watched them, he didn't notice Willow's face fall.
Slowly, Xander turned and took Buffy's vacated seat, facing her. He
stared at his hands for a moment.

"Xander? Is something wrong?" Willow asked, concerned. <You have no
idea,> he wanted to reply.

"No, nothing." He sighed before continuing, "Willow? Can we talk?"

"Sure. About what?" she replied.

"We've been friends for a long time...."

"Since kindergarden, when you beat up that boy that was bothering
me," Willow recalled.

"Yeah," Xander laughed, a nervous laugh, "We've been friends for
a while, and you've probably noticed I've been acting oddly around
you," Xander paused as uncertaintity flickered in Willow's eyes.
<Oh, God. I said almost the exact same thing while possessed.>

"I've got to go," she said hurriedly, gathering her bag and paying
for her drink. Xander watched as she ran out the door. Out of the corner
of his eye, he saw Buffy and Angel stop dancing. Buffy gestured frantically
at him to follow her. <ah, bloody hell.> And he followed Willow out into
the night.

"Willow!" he shouted but she continued to run, "WILLOW! Please stop!"
She hesitated before stopping and turning. Xander covered the distance
between them. "Please give me a chance to explain."

She slapped him. Hard. "I am not a plaything, Xander. I have feelings,
too."

"What?" he asked softly.

"Everyday its the same thing. Some new girl comes, you drool
over her, and tell me about it. Do you know how that makes
me feel? When Buffy turned you down for the prom, did you have
any idea how badly I wanted to say yes?" she replied.

"No, I didn't," he responded. <Is she saying...?>

"Damnit, Xander, I love you, and you don't even care." She
slapped him again, but before she could turn to run, Xander
grabbed her arms.

"I care, Willow," he replied, pulling her into a hug.
"Willow, I-"

"Xander, shut up."

"Willow..."

"Shut up."

"Willow, please...." Xander felt her sigh, and his skin tingled as
she ran her hand behind his neck. She pulled his head down to meet
her and kissed him roughly. He got over the shock enough to wrap his
arms more firmly around her. <God, don't let it end.> But it did.

They stared at each other as the kiss stopped. Slowly they began to
smile, and Xander tilted Willow's head back and kissed her again. This
time both of them didn't try to stop the kiss. As it broke, disappointment
showed in their eyes.

"Someone really should tell Buffy," Willow whispered.

"I agree."
                   ___________________

They walked hand in hand back into the Bronze and over to where Buffy
and Angel danced. Buffy looked up from Angel's shoulder and smiled.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" she asked.

Willow nodded as Xander pulled her to him as a slow song started,
and they danced.

**One boy, one girl,
  Two hearts beating wildly.
  To put it mildly,
  It was love at first sight.**

Xander lifted Willow's chin to gaze into her eyes. "I love you, Willow
Rosenberg, and I don't want to lose you."

**One boy, one girl**
-----------------------
The End

Samantha McCullah                                    [e-mail]
 "I fed off a flower person, and I spent the next six hours watching my
             hand move." - Spike