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buffyfic Digest       Tuesday, September 9 1997       Volume 01 : Number 030



In this issue:

    BUFFYFIC: "The Book" (1/1) by D.Spence
    BUFFYFIC: Little Xander in Slumberland 1/1 by JJ
    BUFFYFIC: Reflections: W.I.F. (03/?) by D.Spence
    BUFFYFIC: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls 7/? by JJ

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: Sun, 7 Sep 1997 21:28:16 -0400 (EDT)
From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "The Book" (1/1) by D.Spence

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 |
        +-------------------------------------------------+

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

Date: Mon, 8 Sep 1997 14:08:05 -0400
From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Little Xander in Slumberland 1/1 by JJ

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

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

Date: Tue, 9 Sep 1997 06:18:20 -0400 (EDT)
From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Reflections: W.I.F. (03/?) by D.Spence

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 |
          +-------------------------------------------------+

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

Date: Tue, 9 Sep 1997 20:37:54 -0400
From: Jesse Jou <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3:  The God of Nine Walls 7/? by JJ

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

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

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