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buffyfic Digest        Monday, August 11 1997        Volume 01 : Number 010



In this issue:

    BUFFYFIC: "Mad Moon in Scorpio" (4/6)
    BUFFYFIC: IMPORTANT:  New Sub Holds
    BUFFYFIC: Solstice Blues (1/1)
    BUFFYFIC: Secret World of Willow (01/?) by D.Spence

See the end of the digest for information on subscribing to the buffyfic
or buffyfic-digest mailing lists and on how to retrieve back issues.

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

Date: Tue,  5 Aug 1997 16:03:43, -0500
From: [e-mail] (MS CHRISTINA L KAMNIKAR)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Mad Moon in Scorpio" (4/6)

"Mad Moon in Scorpio"
by Christina Kamnikar
copyright 1997


        *       >       =       4       #       @       \

        Friday dawned, and I woke from vague dreams that left a cold sheen
of sweat on my skin, but no concrete memories behind. The feeling that
today was important, and that events had telescoped into an immediate
danger, was backed up by the day's horoscope: moon coming out of retrograde
into Scorpio, a warning of madness, passions flaring out of control, and
psychic awareness going haywire. //Great. More power to the enemy, whoever
that is...//

        Before I left for school I did two things; set the protections for
the students I was most worried about---Dave, Fritz, and Willow---and cast
a handful of bones on my laptop. It had remained off-line since before the
previous week and was probably still uncorrupted from contact with the Net,
so any reading from it *should* be trustworthy. The three candles I lit for
my advanced students blazed bright but hazy, with a strange gold ring
around Willow's, a relentless flickering of Dave's, and dark smoke rising
from Fritz's. I tried not to interpret any signs from their glow; as long
as the flames were alight, and as long as my students didn't come in direct
contact with the force causing the mischief, they *should* be okay. Fears
that it might already be too late were stifled and shoved in my sock drawer.

        The runes, when cast, sent me speeding for my car keys and out the
door, completely unwilling to stare at the video representations of the
stones for very long.

        //Hail. Thorn. Struggle. Destiny.//

        Like the Tarot cards I'd flipped over, they represented dark forces
closing in. The scary thing about the "struggle" stone was that it
suggested that the conflict had to be won before the battle; that I had to
go into it having learned some lesson, knowing how to win before engaging
the enemy.

        How could I do that, if I had no idea who the enemy was? Or what
they wanted?

        >       <      >        <       )       (       ^

        More problems awaited me at school. It looked like every major
computer system had been tampered with, and most of the minor ones too. The
shop class thermostat refused to fall below 93 degrees; meanwhile, the gym
was set at a toasty 51.  Both were on the main computer's environmental
system. The cafeteria cash registers were ringing up $1000 purchases and
giving $666 refunds; an order of 67 copies of the Necronomicon arrived at
Principal Snyder's office with a computerized receipt; and the public
address system took to playing spurts of Run D.M.C. and KISS during the
dismissal bells.

        Actually, I like Run D.M.C. But the rest of the faculty wasn't as amused.

        The Necronomicon delivery was what tipped me off to the demonic
nature of my enemy; it's a silly book, totally and completely unconnected
with true demon-summoning, but it has the reputation required to strike
fear into the hearts of P.T.A. and school board members. And from what I
know about malevolent entities, it would appeal to someone with a...
_perverse_ sense of humor.  Principal Snyder's eyes bugged out several
inches (okay, several inches *more*) when he saw what had been unloaded
into his office during third period, inspiring him to strongly 'request' an
audit of all school computer systems before the end of the day.

        //Thanks a lot, whoever you are,// I grumped silently, checking
over the school environmental systems program again, debugging as I went.
//Enough nuisance junk that I can't find the source of the trouble---
there's *got* to be something! Some way to track you down, you diabolical
little monster!// A mischief demon could wreak untold havoc without even
trying, setting off several Rube Goldbergs of cascading mayhem at once. The
news reports had confirmed what was happening on the way to work, with more
break-ins and Network crashes all over the globe.

        Maybe I could figure out where the problem wasn't, and work my way
backward from there. I was convinced that whoever-it-was that was visiting
from the Lower Depths of Bad Jokes had to have their stronghold in
Sunnydale, and probably the high school. Somewhere in the school's system,
there was a corner where an imp was giggling and planning new chaos while I
tried to clean up the messes.

        //Start with the only place that *hasn't* reported problems yet:
the library.// I grimaced as I squared my shoulders in front of the sanctum
sanctorum of Rupert Giles. //Possibly because our esteemed librarian hasn't
looked at the system since it was installed...//

        Giles was lecturing two of the students as I came in: "...*not*
suggest that you illegally enter... the data into the file, so that the
books would be listed by both the title and the author." Dressed in tweed
and layers despite the California heat, he sounded self-conscious and
guilty to me; and the looks that Buffy Summers and her friend Xander Harris
exchanged when I spoke a moment later confirmed my gut instinct.  //He's
getting them to do all the record-keeping work for him! He's probably got
Willow doing it too!//

        Why they would do Giles' work for him was fairly easy to guess:
given Buffy's reputation as a troublemaker, and Xander's equally widespread
status as class goof, he was probably one of the only teachers in the
entire school to cut them any slack. Which would have been admirable if he
weren't using it as a way to wiggle out of working with the brand-new
database I'd gone to so much trouble to install. Thoughts of the demon went
right out the window as I slowly approached an adversary every bit as
tenacious as the hypothetical demon inhabiting the Net.

        "I just came by to check on the new database, make sure your
cross-reference table isn't glitching... because I'm guessing _you_ haven't
gone anywhere near it." I smiled sweetly at the librarian, who returned my
sunny accusation with irritation flashing from behind his rimless spectacles.

        "I'm still sorting through the chaos you left behind you," Giles
retorted resentfully, as Xander and Buffy tried to hide identical
expressions of guilt. I wondered how many classes he'd written excuse notes
for in exchange for their help, then dismissed the question in favor of
grilling them before they escaped.

        "Hmmmm." I zeroed in on the students, pretending surprise. "You're
here again? You kids really dig the library, don't you?"

        "We're literary!" Buffy responded brightly with a determined smile.

        Xander swallowed, his dark eyes hunted, then blurted out, "To read
makes our speaking English good."

        I choked back a giggle at his comment as Buffy's blue eyes widened
in panic. "We'll be going now!" she jumped in, tugging on her friend's arm.

        "We'll continue this discussion at another time," Giles stated in a
significant manner, stuttering slightly as he emphasized the words, but his
tone didn't seem to have any impact on Buffy, at least. Xander appeared to
be still in shock from his own untimely comment.

        "I think we're done," Buffy answered Giles in a firm voice,
dragging Xander away, and muttering in an whisper that was obviously not
meant to be overheard: "'To read makes our speaking English good?!'"

        "I panicked, okay?" was his only response.

        Giles had already distanced himself from me before the two students
had exited the library. He thumbed through some of the over-sized folios,
ignoring me completely, appearing oblivious of my continued presence.

        I sat down at the computer and brought up the cross-reference
table. "This will only take a minute. I just have to check the coding,
we've been having some problems throughout the school---"

        "Quite," Giles responded dryly, not even looking up from his book.
"Do whatever is necessary as quickly as possible, Miss Calender. I need to
complete today's research without outside interference."

        I glared at him.  How could a completely inoffensive sentence
contain so much disdain? And how could a man who wasn't being an aggressive
jerk seem to invite a smacking on the head with one of his books?  I don't
know how he does it; it's just a gift.

        There's something about being overlooked that brings out the worst
in me, especially when it's by a hidebound conservative like Giles. "Why,
of course, Rupert." He stiffened at being called by his given name, and I
chortled inwardly. I don't think he likes his first name... he always calls
the rest of the faculty by their last names, and most of the teachers
return the favor.  I've never seen any reason to do so, since I happen to
like my first name.

        And okay, I'll admit it; I was a little gleeful at the opportunity
to remind him that we were colleagues, and he couldn't dismiss me as easily
as his students. "Far be it from me to show you an easier way to track down
the information you're seeking. I'll just verify that everything's
peachy-keen here, and leave you to do things the old-fashioned way. Sloooooow."

        "Accomplishing tasks with deliberation guarantees they're being
done correctly," Giles responded, sounding slightly nettled but still
condescending. "I see no reason to complete sixteen new projects only to
find that they must all be re-done in order to fix some 'computer error.'"

        //Points to you.// I grimaced, some of my annoyance with Giles
lessening as I thought of recent developments. The truth was, aside from
his universal dislike for all computers, Rupert Giles was a more than
adequate librarian; I don't know how he *did* keep all of the books
organized prior to the computer system. Of course, I doubt he'd tell me if
I asked....

        I didn't dislike Giles personally. It was just his attitude that
got to me. That head-in-the-sand, ignore-it-and-it'll-go-away reaction to
computers is such an elitist position to take, especially from someone who
I'd always suspected was one of the brighter members of Sunnydale's
teaching staff. How could he possibly hang on to those preconceptions
without even giving the new technology a chance?

        "Frankly, I do not see the point of having this database,
especially since the library possesses a complete card catalog, and an
up-to-date periodical index---"

        "Oh, you have *got* to be kidding me!"

        "No, I am not," he peered at me over his glasses, that stuffy
British voice becoming crisper by the moment. "All of the data has been
present long before the invention of that calculating device---"

        "Rupert, it is so much _easier_ for the students to access the
library records using the database as it's set up now." I finished my
double-check, pleased and angry to find that yes, it was fine; and no,
Rupert Giles hadn't made a single modification to it in a week. //I know
librarians who would _kill_ for a set-up like this, and he blows it off
like it's an unwanted imposition on his domain....// I was starting to get steamed.

        "I wasn't aware that we were here to make life *easy* for them."
Giles closed his book and went on to another without looking up at me.
"Surely we're here to force them to learn new things---"

        "You're a snob." So, I lost it. Just a little. I wasn't yelling or
anything, but he couldn't miss the fac that I was peeved.

        "I am no such thing." Giles stood up and stalked away from his
current stack of books sounding startled and defensive, which only made me
happier, and set me off on a bigger tear.

        "Oh, you're a *big* snob. You think knowledge should be kept in
these carefully guarded repositories where only a handful of white guys can
get at it!"

        "Nonsense!" Amazingly, Rupert was actually responding to personal
insults instead of ignoring me. I'd been sure that he'd stay patronizing
and distant; but attacking his personality got a reaction that challenging
his views didn't. "I simply don't subscribe to a knee-jerk assumption that
because something is new it's better!"

        Rupert was annoyed with me, but at least he wasn't blowing me off.
You can reason with someone if they're willing to listen, and I finally had
Giles' attention about something that really mattered to me. I can forgive
a lot when I'm being given a chance to tell my side of a story.  "This
isn't a fad, Rupert. We're building a new society here."

        I was so caught up in the specifics of the argument that I totally
missed seeing what was coming. Rupert came back out of his office with the
most intense expression I'd ever seen on him; more immediate attention and
emotion than I'd had any clue he was capable of.

        "Yes, a society in which human interaction is all but obsolete?" he
challenged me, his voice stuttering a little again from high emotion. "A
society where people can be completely manipulated by technology?" Giles
looked very slightly ill, very, *very* angry, totally stubborn, and still
civilized. "Well... thank you, I'll pass."

        //Whoa.// You know how it is, when you realize you've made a big
mistake about someone?  I was blinking, just... floored.  And now I
couldn't give up on the fight when I'd *finally* made some connection to
him, especially a deeply-felt one.

        Of all the objections I'd thought Giles would have, I hadn't
dreamed they'd be such humanistic, well-thought-out concerns about the
effects of computers; especially from someone who avoided them like the
plague. The cold, conservative, distant mental picture I'd had of Rupert
Giles looked to be way, way off-base.  //Have to keep him talking.// I
couldn't for the life of me remember what my next point had been, so I
settled for, "Well. I think you'll be very happy here with your musty old
books."   I tried to re-group and come up with a better comeback while
perching on the table next to some of the new volumes and flipping through
them idly, hoping for inspiration.

        "These musty old books have a great deal more to say than any of
your 'fabulous web pages'."  Rupert was back to sounding resentful as he
paged through some of the newer books; and the glare he sent me was full of
dislike. Great.

        "This one doesn't have a whole lot to say. What is it, like a
diary?" I asked, not wanting him to walk away,  needing to keep his
attention. Even with such a lame distraction as a blank book; besides, I
was genuinely curious---it was pretty old to have been kept untouched for
as long as it had been.

        I hate losing fights. Especially when I'm right. Especially when I
finally find someone who's willing to fight back.

        Giles frowned, seeming perplexed. "How odd." He blinked, gathering
his dignity as he took the folio from me. "I haven't looked through all the
new volumes.. umm... yet..." He flipped through it a moment, then closed
the book and looked at the cover---and that was when I saw the worry and
fear freeze his expression, his eyes fixed on the unfamiliar script on the front.

        "What is it?"

        I swear, he barely knew I was still in the room. "Nothing. A
diary... yes. I imagine that's what it is." I stared at him, but Rupert
completely missed it; he was already *gone*, and I continued to stare as he
just turned away from me and walked toward his inner office, taking the
book with him. "Well, it's been so nice talking with you."  All the
impassioned interest was gone, and his voice had become neutral, pleasant
and polite again.

        "We were fighting," I reminded him, caught between amusement and
total confusion at his about-face.

        "Must do it again sometime. Bye now," Giles called over his shoulder.

         //*What* was that?// I stood gaping like an idiot at the door he'd
retreated through, trying to figure out if Rupert just didn't like losing
arguments, or if he'd been embarrassed, or if the book had reminded him of
something he had to do, or.... //I don't believe this!//

        I gave up in frustration, abruptly remembering that I'd had another
purpose when I'd entered the library: to check on the reference table, and
find some trace of the demon. I left the library with renewed purpose, and
put all thoughts of Rupert Giles and his weird behavior out of my head...
after some effort. //How could I be so wrong about him? Why did I buy into
that uptight Brit routine, and totally miss the rest of it?... Later.
Things to figure out later, Nikki. Now we have to deal with a demon.//

        It got worse; the demon had gotten into the school medical files,
and monkeyed with the allergy records. Two kids were down sick because of
misapplied medication by the end of the day. Several parents were
contacted, given false alarms about their kids, scared out of their minds
for no reason when the phone system acted up again. And the Art Department
had to be evacuated when the sprinkler system went off, ruining several
months worth of the junior class's work and flooding the basement.

        Worse, I couldn't find Dave, or Willow, or Fritz; I'd been too busy
all day to have half a second to talk to them, maybe find out more about
what they'd been doing the last week or so. I had a horrible suspicion that
one of my students might have started this whole thing by accident. How, I
had no idea; but it fit in with their strange behavior of the last few
days... and the omens I didn't want to read in their candles.

        By the time I got home that night I was exhausted.  Henry V
stubbornly refused to reboot, so I cast bones over and over again on the
laptop.... getting darker and darker portents every time. I couldn't think
of a damn thing to do. It was the most horrible, helpless feeling----

        And then Dave's candle went out.

        "Oh, no. No, please---" I tried to re-light it, but every time I
did the wick would burn my fingers, and the smoke from Fritz's candle would
smother the light... I sat down, sick at heart, unable to believe that what
I was seeing could possibly be true. Willow's candle was slowly guttering
in a non-existent breeze too, while Fritz's blazed higher and higher.... I
ignored my ringing phone, swallowing back tears and anger. Putting out
Fritz's candle wouldn't save Willow; it was just a symbol, as Dave's had
been, until it was snuffed out. What was going on? //Goddess---//  The
answering machine finally kicked in.

        "Miss Calender? Miss Calender, are you there? This is Mr Giles."  I
closed my eyes, listening to Rupert's cut-crystal accent with weary
disinterest. "I'm afraid---I have an emergency on the computer here.
It's... rather terribly urgent." I stood up slowly, blinking at the
candlelight, remembering Cameo's cards: Hierophant. Justice. Page of Wands.
//What if they *were* right?// Hope started to rise again as I listened to
Rupert's voice. "Could you please come to the school as soon as you get
this? I'll be in my office." A pause, then, with a note of desperation,
"Please hurry."

        The bones still said struggle, hail, destiny, thorn; maybe Giles
had some of the answers I'd need, to cut through the hedge....

*
Christina       [e-mail]

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

Date: Wed, 6 Aug 1997 21:36:12 -0500 (CDT)
From: Jill Kirby <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: IMPORTANT:  New Sub Holds

We are temporarily putting a hold on <all> new s*bscriptions to both Buffy
lists for anyone who has an AOL mailing address.

We are sorry to have to do this, but we have had a number of problems on and
off-list (which we won't detail here) that have led to this decision.  This
is not permanent, and new AOL s*bscription requests will be held and
processed sometime next week.

The exception to this rule is anyone who we've had to uns*b because of
bounced mail; if those people reapply and we know they've been on the list
before we will process their sub requests.

If anyone has any questions, please contact one of us offlist.  Thanks.

Jill & Sharon
***
Jill Kirby ~~  [e-mail] ~~ www.geocities.com/SoHo/Lofts/4107
 NatPack ~~ ABotCoS ~~ NP4 ~~ Dreamer/Minstrel ~~ Cool HR Chick
It's a big enough umbrella, but it's always me that ends up getting wet.

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

Date: Fri, 8 Aug 1997 22:43:24 -0500 (CDT)
From: Tina <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Solstice Blues (1/1)

Nikki Calendar would *not* shut up til I wrote this.  I couldn't sleep!
She's extremely insistient.  Ok, here goes--no plot, sappy, and short.  No
plot whatsoever.  Calendar/Giles romance.  It's all character stuff.

All rights go to Joss Whedon, the WB, and Mutant Enemy or something like
that.

Thanks to the Sunnydale Slayers list for the comments and the
encouragement.  No thanks to deb for putting ideas in my head on
continuations that I now pretty much *have* to write. <g>  Give me some
time to get moved, deb, and then we'll see about that continuation...

Do not archive or distribute without my permission (the story will be on
the net at the Sunnydale Slayers page and Ms. Calendar's Domain).  All
feedback is welcome, and you know, I'd love to get some chocolate,
actually...

Solstice Blues (1/1)
Tina Cooling
copyright 1997

It was Yule, and Nikki Calendar was sitting alone in her house.  She had a
glass of eggnog, but sipping eggnog and staring at the liquid when it was
swirled in the glass was just *not* her idea of a fun time.

"Well, isn't this just a treat," she said, looking around the room.  The
lights she'd put up in the window sparkled fitfully, and the holly and
mistletoe spread around the room was beginning to look a bit worn.  Her
candle was burning nicely, though, she mused.  It was a pillar candle
she'd found at a thrift shop, all embossed with vines and trees--perfect
for the solstice, really.  It started out on one quarter with all its
leaves, and ended up on the other side as bare as could be.

The phone rang, startling Nikki out of her reverie, and she looked around
for it.

"Calendar residence," she said once she had located it and pressed the
"talk" button.

"Hello, dear," said a familiar--and somewhat dreaded--voice.

"Hi, Mom," said Nikki, a sigh echoing from her.

"I was just calling to find out when you were coming home for Christmas,
honey.   Your father and I were looking forward to seeing you again."

"I'm not coming home for Christmas, Mom.  You *know* that."

"Now, Nikki" Her mom was about to start on one of her "this means a lot to
your father and I" lectures again.  Nikki rolled her eyes and stepped in
as her mom took a breath.

"Mom, I've got programming I could get done that day.  Remember?  I'll be
able to get it done if I work the whole day on it.  Besides, it's not my
holiday."  It'd be best to head off this tangent before it even got
started.  "Not only that, but I'll be home in three weeks for Dad's
birthday."

"Well," said her mother just as the doorbell rang.  Nikki sent a silent
message of thanks to whichever Goddess was looking out for her tonight.

"Mom, can we argue about this another time?  I have company."

"Well, all right, dear," said her mother, censure evident in her voice.
"I"ll call you tomorrow."

"Love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Nikki."  She hung up the phone, and Nikki followed suit,
also setting her eggnog on the table.

"Just a minute," she called to the door.  Nikki scrambled off the sofa and
over to the door, checking the peephole.  A puzzled look crossed her face,
and she opened the door.

A slightly embarrassed looking Giles stood on her doorstep.  He had a box
in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other.

"Giles," said Nikki, slightly puzzled.

"Um, hello," he said, half-waving at her with the hand that held the
bottle.

"Nice to see you too, Giles."  She smiled slightly and stepped back to
give him room.  "Come on in."

"Thank you," he said, handing Nikki the wine and proceeding to slip out of
his coat.

"Over here," said Nikki when Giles looked puzzled as to the location of
the coat rack.  Honestly, the man could pinpoint a monster at 500 yards
but he couldn't find the simplest mundane efficiency if his life depended
on it.  "The world doesn't need saving again, does it?"  Nikki asked
warily.

"No, uh"  She saw Giles smile at the look of relief on her face.

"Well, good--if at least one day can go by without the Apocalypse needing
to be averted, I'm happy.  So, what brings you to this area of town?"

"Well, you see," Giles stammered as he followed Nikki into the living
room.  "It's, ah, the solstice, as I'm sure you know, and, well, it's
rather difficult to find someone to celebrate with in Sunnydale."

"Tell me about it," muttered Ms. Calendar as she put the wine down on her
coffee table.  "Want some eggnog?"  She glanced up at Giles as she asked,
amused at the uneasiness on his face as he watched her reach for the
carton and a new glass.

"Um--yes, thank you," said Giles, glancing around the room.  "And, since I
knew you celebrated the solstice as well, I thought that perhaps I would
visit and see if you, ah, wanted company.  So," said Giles nervously,
handing the small box to her.  "Happy Solstice."

"Rupert, you didn't have to," said Nikki, inspecting the box and its
celestial wrapping paper.  "Appropriate paper, even.  Nice."

"Well, I--I wanted to," he said.  "I saw it and it made me think of you,"
he said, sipping his eggnog.  Nikki began tearing the paper open, and
eventually pulled it off the box.  Opening it, she saw a small silver
pendant--a sun with silver firebursts coming from it, and a tiny moonstone
carved into a face at the center.

"Giles, it's beautiful," she said, lifting it and clasping the delicate
box chain around her neck.  "Thank you."  She smiled at him, softly at
first, but it grew to an almost predatory grin.

"Giles," she said, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Hm?" he asked, discomfited by the mischeviousness in her eyes.

"You're standing under the mistletoe," Nikki said, taking a step towards
him.  Giles glanced up, taking in the white berries dangling a foot above
him.  A small smile crept across his face.

"Yes, I suppose I am," he said as Nikki took another step towards him.

"Whatever will we do about that?"  She pulled Giles to her,wrapping her
arms around his neck and giving him a long, slow kiss


END  (Let's just draw the curtain on that scene right now...)

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

Date: Mon, 11 Aug 1997 17:34:51 -0400 (EDT)
From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Secret World of Willow (01/?) by D.Spence

Well, the Alex Mack link I mentioned is apparently dead, as are most
of the other ones that the search engines came up with. If anyone
out there knows of a good Alex Mack site (as opposed to a Larisa
Oleynik site), preferably with fanfic and a complete episode guide,
I would appreciate it very much if you would send me the URL. I'd
hate my xover to have YASWAMIs (Yet Another SWAM Inconsistency)
since I'm more familiar with Buffy canon at the moment.

                         *   *   *   *   *

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 1*

They came out of the sewer system in an alley about a block away
from the lab. While Buffy went across the street to call Giles from
a pay phone to pick them up, Willow stayed in the alley to take care
of a still semi-stunned Xander. The rage she had been feeling ever
since the attack on her mother had vanished the instant she had seen
Xander in danger. Now all she was left with was a feeling of guilt.
Neither of them saw the translucent mass that had been following
them slither into a shadowed corner, then solidify into a human form
that remained hidden there, silently listening.

"Ow! That hurts!" moaned Xander as he tried to get comfortable
leaning against a wall. Not seeing his friend's distress, he tried
to make a joke of it. "Really Will, couldn't you have knocked me
into something a little -- *ow* -- softer?"

Willow couldn't see the humor. "God, Xander, I'm sorry!" she
exclaimed as tears filled her eyes. "You were right. I should have
let Buffy handle it herself. She's the Slayer, not me. Instead, I
dragged you along on this stupid vendetta and almost got you
*KILLED!*"

"Hey!" he protested, finally cluing in to her mood, "Nobody dragged
me anywhere. I volunteered, remember? Besides, even though you're my
best bud, *no way* was I going to let you have all the fun." He
would have put his arm around her to comfort her, but his shoulder
was too banged up to move.

"He's on his way," interrupted Buffy who had returned unnoticed,
"and should here in a few minutes. Are you okay, Willow?"

"Fine," she answered, not really sure if this was true. She'd been
feeling a little odd ever since her chemical bath, but it was
nothing she could put her finger on, so she dismissed it as the
aftermath of shock. "At least I will be as soon as I can get out of
these clothes and have a shower. This stuff reeks! It's a good thing
Dad is staying in the hospital with Mom; otherwise he might not let
me in the door."

Just then a car pulled up in front of the alley and stopped, and the
driver (a good looking man in his forties) jumped out and looked
around. Without saying another word, the three teenagers scrambled
over to the car. After carefully placing the injured Xander in
the back seat, the girls joined him and they drove away.

                         *   *   *   *   *

//I must be nuts! There is really *NO* other explanation,// thought
the young lady who was currently hiding in the trunk of Rupert
Giles' car. //One minute I'm erasing incriminating files from the
PVC mainframe through the shipping terminal, and the next I'm
following a bunch of crazies who were *KILLING* people that turned
to dust. And I thought Sunnydale would be boring. What am I *DOING
HERE?!?*//

Of course, she knew the answer to that question. Two years ago,
Alexandra Louise Mack (Alex to her family and friends) had been the
one dripping with GC-161, and knowing what that girl was about go
through made her determined to be on hand if help was needed. //I
wish Annie was here. Then again, if she saw what happened tonight
she would probably go into deep and total denial.// Alex already had
a pretty good idea what going on -- she'd watched enough late night
TV with her sister to recognize a vampire when she saw one -- but
for the life of her she couldn't figure out why three teenagers
would go around hunting monsters in the middle of the night.

Her evesdropping hadn't clarified matters much, except that Buffy
//now isn't that a name for a vampire hunter (excuse me, Slayer)//
seemed to the leader and usually hunted alone, and that Willow was
in love with Xander and blamed herself for his injuries. Who this
Giles character was she hadn't a clue, except he needed a new car
(with a bigger trunk). //Ow! Or at least new shocks,// she thought
as they went over another bump.

                         *   *   *   *   *

The ride back was uneventful, except once when the radio came on
full blast all by itself. No one (except for Alex in the trunk) paid
any attention to the fact that this happened at the same time Willow
sneezed. There was only time to give Giles a very brief description
of the night's events before they arrived at Willow's house. It had
already been decided before tonight's "mission" that rather than
return to the library (which was still under repair) for the usual
debriefing, they would go to there because her parents were not at
home. According to plan, Giles let them off in front of the house,
then drove around the block, parked the car in the alley behind the
house and went in through the back gate.

"You know," he said as Xander led him to the living room, "I'll
never get used to the cloak-and-dagger aspect of being a Watcher.
Research and training a Slayer is one thing, but this skulking
around in dark corners makes me nervous." Noticing Buffy and Willow
were nowhere in sight, he asked Xander, "Where are they?"

"Upstairs taking a shower. Will I mean, not Buffy." After pausing
for a second to savor the latter image, he explained. "Will said she
was feeling a little woozy, so Buffy volunteered to keep an eye on
her so she wouldn't have an accide..." Suddenly a loud scream
sounded from upstairs, and both men rushed up the stairs and pounded
on the bathroom door. "What's going on in there?!?" Xander yelled.

Buffy opened the door, looking shocked and dismayed. "She's gone!"

"NOOOO!!! She *CAN'T* be!" cried Xander as pushed past Buffy into
the bathroom. Fear for his lifelong friend quickly turned to
confusion as he could find no trace of her in the small room. "Where
is she? What happened to her?" he asked the still shaking Slayer.

"She just ... melted!"

"WHAT?!?" yelled Xander.

"Everybody, calm down," Giles said, trying to get the situation
under control. "Buffy, tell us exactly what happened in there."

Buffy took a deep breath, then explained. "She was taking a shower,
trying to wash off that gunk from the warehouse, when suddenly she
said `Oh God! What's happening to me?' I opened the shower door,
and there she was standing there, transparent, like a statue made
out of glass. Then she just ... sort of lost her shape and went down
the drain."

Thinking quickly, he asked Xander, "Where does that pipe lead?"

"The basement I guess, but why?"

Ignoring his question, Giles grabbed Xander's arm and dragged him
down the stairs, demanding "Show me!" Xander complied, pointing to a
door in the downstairs hall. Without another word, Giles jerked it
open and, taking just a moment to find and flip the light switch,
rushed down the basement steps. A sudden triumphant shout of "SHE'S
HERE!!!" spurred the others to quickly follow.

Below they found damp and shaking Willow, covered only by Giles'
tweed jacket and a large towel taken from a nearby laundry hamper,
crying silently on his shoulder. The librarian looked distinctly
uncomfortable with the situation, but both Buffy and Xander were so
grateful at seeing their friend alive and in one piece, they made no
comment about the odd looking tableau. Instead they rushed forward,
engaging the distraught hacker in a silent group hug that went on
for almost a minute.

Xander was the first to speak. "God, Willow! I thought I'd lost you!
Don't ever do that to me again!" Looking at Giles, he asked, "How
did you know?"

"I didn't," admitted the Watcher, "I only hoped. If she was still
alive and had some control of her movement, this was where she'd be.
Otherwise..." He paused, unable to continue.

"Never mind," interrupted Buffy, grimacing, "we get the picture."

"It was *HORRIBLE!*" gasped Willow. "I was sliding around, not
knowing which way to go, terrified I'd end up in the sewer with the
vampires. Somehow I managed to find my way here and pull myself
together. Literally. What's happening to me?" she asked Giles.

Giles had no answer. "My specialty is the occult, not science. This
is way beyond my ken. Only the people who made that chemical have
any idea as to its nature or properties. We may have to make up some
story, and ask them for help..."

"NO!!! You mustn't!" cried an unexpected voice from the stairs. They
turned to see a teenage girl standing at the bottom of the stairs
with panicked expression on her face. "Never mind YOUR secrets, Ms.
Atron will have you locked up in a lab so fast you won't have time
twitch, much less morph."

"Who are you," demanded Giles, "and how did you get in here?"

"My name is Alex Mack," she answered after a moments pause, "and I
got here the same way your friend got to the basement. You see, I
know what she's going through. What happened to her happened to me a
couple of years ago. Believe me, morphing is only part of it."

"How do you know what happened to me?" asked Willow fearfully.

"I was there," she answered, "I saw it." Turning to Buffy, she
confirmed their worst fears. "ALL of it. Don't worry, if there is
anything I know how to do, it's how to keep a secret. I've kept mine
for almost two years, even from my parents. And THAT is NOT easy!"

"Tell me about it," muttered Buffy, thinking about her own problems
with her mother. "What did you mean when you said `morphing is only
the beginning'?"

"Lets make a deal." Alex said. "I tell you all I know about exposure
to GC-161, and you tell me all about the vampires."

"It's a deal!" said Buffy without hesitation. It looked like life
was just about to get a little weirder.

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

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

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