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buffyfic Digest      Wednesday, September 3 1997      Volume 01 : Number 026



In this issue:

    BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (3/5)
    BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (4/5)
    BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (5/5)
    BUFFYFIC:  A Fresh Start (1/?)

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.

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

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/

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

Date: Wed, 3 Sep 1997 07:31:38 -0700
From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (4/5)

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/

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

Date: Wed, 3 Sep 1997 07:31:59 -0700
From: [e-mail] (Elizabeth Ann Lewis)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Summer Vacation -- Giles (5/5)

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/

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

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

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!

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

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