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buffyfic Digest       Saturday, October 11 1997       Volume 01 : Number 036



In this issue:

    BUFFYFIC: The Lady Came from Sunnydale
    BUFFYFIC: Three of Spades (1/1)
    BUFFYFIC: Cage of the Burning Sun
    BUFFYFIC: Addicted to Blood
    BUFFYFIC: ADMIN:  List rules
    BUFFYFIC: Cage of the Burning Sun (Completely Revised)
    BUFFYFIC: Tallulah (part 1 of about 10 parts, more or less)
    BUFFYFIC: Tallulah (part 2 of 10 parts more or less)
    BUFFYFIC: Little Buffy Movie Section!
    BUFFYFIC: Violent Night
    BUFFYFIC: Fwd: Fanzine: This is not a threat!!

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: Sat, 04 Oct 1997 12:15:46 -0700
From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Lady Came from Sunnydale

The Lady Came from Sunnydale

(To the tune of "The Lady Came from Baltimore")

The lady came from Sunnydale
She owned a gallery place
She joked with me that I was pale
I wore my human face

Chorus:  I was sent to kill her daughter
         Drain her blood and run
         But I fell in love with Ms. Summers
         Came away with none

Though lady Joyce was always sweet
Her daughter killed my kind
Joyce didn't know what I must eat
It never crossed her mind

Chorus

She locked her house's doors each night
To keep the dark things out
She never stopped to see it right
That's what I'm about

Chorus

Her daughter said I was a fiend
Who fed on people's blood
To Joyce I was a human being
I married her for love

Chorus

(Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose)

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

Date: Sat, 4 Oct 1997 21:14:30 -0700
From: Elizabeth Ann Lewis <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Three of Spades (1/1)

The characters and concepts of Buffy the Vampire Slayer are not mine.  Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, Sandollar, etc, etc, have all legal and monetary
rights.  I just get them waking me up at all hours of the morning demanding
that I tell their stories, that's all...

As always, for the Sunnydale Slayers.  This time they shuddered instead of
cooing.

Praise, flames, chocolate and tall, dark, undead angsty guys to
[e-mail]
*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*
Three of Spades
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis
England, 1818
Old Nick's Tavern, on the road from London to Dover

    Billy cursed under his breath at the last of the travelers who
stumbled up the stairs, to bed and wives and sleep.  They left him the
dregs of their bottles, and not enough time to clear their purses of gold.
Not nearly enough time.  The rich, the idle, the careless poured forth from
London, dreaming of the continent, barred to them for so long by a
generation of unrelenting war.  Their minds were fixed on Greek statues and
French women, not on whether the friendly chap they met in a tavern was
dealing from the top or the bottom of the deck.  Billy made a tidy sum that
way, hazing their minds with wine and stealing their gold with cards.  It
had occurred to him -- often -- that it might have been easier to simply
steal their purses outright.  Before he had left London -- before he had
fled the Town to save his own sorry skin -- he hadn't flinched from doing
what needed to be done, whether it was cutting a purse or cutting a throat.
    But it was more of a challenge, this way.  And he hungered for a
challenge.
    Tonight, however, all he hungered for was more.  More play, more
gold, more wine, more blackness spreading out and out, blanketing him,
blanking him.  Oblivion was what he sought, wanted until he began to wonder
if the opium addict's pipe was truly as disgusting as it looked.  All he
had were the cards that he restlessly shuffled and reshuffled, their sound
a purr in the still night.
    Out here, on the road, in this filthy tavern, he couldn't make half
the money that he had in London.  In London they had feared him where he
walked the nighttime streets.  Here he was affable Billy, charming bloke,
always willing for a round of ale and a round of whist.  And the charm
sickened him until it was a poison eating out his mind.
    The innkeeper paused his considerable bulk by the cracked table
Billy occupied.  "Time's up," he said, not unkindly.  Everyone thereabouts
liked Billy.  "Seek your own bed, boy.  Get you gone."
    Billy's hand closed convulsively on the knife he wore beneath his
coat.  ~One moment.  Just one.  That's all it'd take.  Then his gut would
lie open like a fish's and his mouth would gape like one.  Just one.  Just
one...~
    The bloodlust didn't haze Billy's mind, but sharpened it.  Enough
that it wasn't a footstep or a breath of sound that made him aware of the
third person in the main room of the tavern -- just feral senses honed to a
point that made him look up to meet dark eyes.  The newcomer was perfectly
positioned to see the knife gleaming, barely slipping free from its sheath,
under the table and out of sight of the rotund innkeeper who had no idea
how close silver death waited.
    Not best pleased at having his sport interrupted -- although he
knew quite well that in another moment the knife would have gone back into
its sheath and he would have gone docilely home, Billy leaned back in his
chair, his pose that of the lord of the manor, master of all he surveyed.
The night might not yet be lost.  Anyone fool enough to travel at night
when the highwaymen lurked was fool enough to fall into a game of cards
with him.  And he was a rich one, too.  His clothes were tailored close to
his body in a fit that screamed of wealth, the fabric finer than anything
Billy had touched in his wretched lifetime.  A gold watch gleamed at the
brocade waistcoat, and a silver ring winked from his hand.
    A fob, a dandy, and a fool.  Billy smiled, not even bothering to
hide the predatory intent that prompted him.  He'd be dining well tomorrow.
    The innkeeper bustled over to his new guest, full of
self-importance and fawning desire for his lordship's comfort.  Even if his
guest was not a lord, it never failed to make the gentry more generous to
be called such.  With three words and a sweet smile, the newcomer had the
innkeeper stumbling back, his florid face gone white with fury or fear --
or both?
    Swinging the cloak from his shoulders, the dark man crossed the
room to sit at the table with Billy.  Restlessly, the cards continued their
endless shuffling song, a pitch that raised and lowered, raised and lowered.
    "Care for a game?" Billy asked casually, ignoring the sting of
sweat that had broken out on his body.  Half of it was from pure
covetousness, wanting the rich fabrics, the gold, the easy life.  And half
of it was from wondering if he was really seeing what he thought he was
seeing in the stranger's eyes.  He'd seen a man go mad, once, seen it
happen right before him.  And the eyes... had gone calm, tranquil as the
man had used a broken bottle to tear a man to pieces.  Very clear, very
sure.
    "I'm always ready for a game -- if the stakes are high enough."  A
cultured voice, carefully trained to sound precisely as it was meant to
sound.  Billy's senses sharpened again.  He'd heard voices like that
before, when those who had clawed their way out of the muck had tried to
ape gentile manners.
    For hours the cards kept up their steady fall, gleaming ivory on
the dark wood.  Ladies danced and bowed to kings -- and fell, when it
suited the king's pleasure.  Billy's pleasure was of a different kind, gold
and gold and more gold piling up before his hands.  So much gold, a bright,
shiny mass... his eyes dazzled in its reflection until he could see nothing
but its glorious sunlit color.
    Blinded by light, he did not notice when the gold began to disappear.
    It wasn't until the stranger tossed a handful of coins into the pot
and called to see his cards that Billy realized that he didn't have enough
to match his opponent's bet.  With a shock that chilled him to his soul, he
realized he'd lost every ha'penny that he had won from the weak, foolish
fop, and every penny of his own besides.  Billy's breath began coming in
puffs, each exhalation a denial of reality.  "No... how did you... it
can't... I can't..."
    "Ah."  One short word sliced through Billy's burgouing hysteria.
Damn his black eyes, he hadn't even broken into a sweat.  "Well, then.
Shall I propose one final game?"
    "I told you, I haven't got any more," Billy said fiercely.  "And
why would you want it?  You don't need money."
    "Who said we would be playing for money?  Here's the rules:  we
each pull one card out of the deck.  I'll shuffle, if you don't mind.  You
pull the high card, and you can take anything of mine you wish.  I pull the
high card -- and I can take anything of yours."
    Billy's eyes narrowed as he watched his opponent across the table.
He'd seen some perversions in London -- participated in some, if the truth
be told -- and yet that wasn't what the gentleman had in mind.
    Billy didn't know what his opponent wanted from him -- or with him.
But he did know what he would take if he pulled the high card:  everything.
And he knew what he had to lose if he pulled the low:  nothing.
    Grinning, Billy handed the deck over to his dark-haired opponent.
"Whatever you want, mate."
    Long-fingered hands were surprisingly dexterous with the aging
deck, shuffling and blending the pasteboard with ease.  In a few moments, a
fan spread out on the table between himself and Billy.  "Pick a card," he
invited.
    With a hesitance he didn't quite understand, Billy slid one card
from the rest of its kind and flipped it over.  The three of spades.
Unless Billy got very, very lucky, he'd lost the bet.
    With a quick moment in the dim light, a hand flashed out and turned
over another card.  The king of hearts, with his axe held at the ready.
For a moment, in the uncertain light, Billy thought he saw the bloodred
heart bleeding across the card.  Before he could blink to clear his sight,
the card disappeared, along with the rest, along with the gold and the
table and everything on it.  The languid, indolent fop hauled him up by his
collar, and his eyes gleamed the shade of the coins fallen on the hearth.
"This is what I will take," he snarled, his face distorted into the mask of
Hell.  In a lifetime spent fighting in a world that would as easily slit
your throat as breath a word, Billy had never lost a fight.
    He lost one then.  Knives gashed into the skin of his neck, burning
with a bright agony that made the blood pouring across his flesh seem cold
in comparison.  He flailed like a rat caught in a terrier's grip,
pathetically unable to protect himself.  The weak light dimmed and faded,
flickering until Billy wondered if it was the beginning flames of perdition
he was seeing rather than the warm hearthfire.
    Cold stones, under his cheek.  He couldn't move.  He could feel his
heart beating, shallowly, rapidly, trying desperately to move blood that no
longer coursed it his body.  But his senses still focused on the stranger
than knelt beside him. "Tell me... do you want to live, or do you want to
die?"
    He couldn't move.  He couldn't breathe.  He couldn't give the
answer that his tormenter seemed to want.  Watching his struggles for a few
moments, the last, helpless flop of a fish caught on dry land, the stranger
finally laughed.  "I'll assume you want to live."
    This time, the blood that flowed across his face felt warm on his
death-chilled skin.  It trickled into his mouth, and set up a hunger, a
thirst, more powerful than any Billy had ever known.  It didn't matter that
he could barely move, that his nemesis had proven and reproven that he was
stronger.  He... needed... *more*, and would be willing to fight to the
last moment of life to get it.
    Later, he would dimly recall clamping his face against the cuts the
stranger had made on his own neck.  Then, his understanding was narrowed
down the the blood that flowed into him, more and more, rich and powerful.
And, with the blood, the sense of *other*, the demon that took residence in
the twisted place where his soul used to be.
    A century, a year, a moment later, Billy stirred, blinked like a
child waking from a nap.  The stranger's clothes were stained with blood
but otherwise barely disordered, and the amused, arrogant light still lit
his dark eyes.  "What's your name?" he asked, his voice no more than
casually curious.
    "B--"  Billy checked himself.  "William the Bloody," he said
instead, pride ringing.
    "William the Bloody, hmm?"  Leaning close, the stranger smiled.
"Let's see you live up to that name, shall we?"
********

High Priestess Lizbet of the CoJ ~*~ [e-mail]
Co-List Mummy, Sunnydale Slayers: "Spank your inner moppet."
"I just LOVE these new toys that come with a new list! Woo-hoooo!" -- Anya
"Willow had a mental image of the two of them with Giles saying sternly,
'Repeat after me, please.  "The lady often slays on rainy days."'"--Elaine,
"Cuppa"

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

Date: Sun, 05 Oct 1997 14:52:10 -0700
From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Cage of the Burning Sun

CAGE OF THE BURNING SUN

(To the tune of "House of the Rising Sun")

There is a cage in Sunnydale
Hung in the burning sun
It's been the ruin of a poor little boy
They called "Anointed One"

His mother died at vampire hands
When crash did go their bus
His sire was the Master, Lord
Before that man was dust

Now the only thing a vampire needs
Is a dark place and some blood
And the only kind keeps it satisfied
Is thick young crimson crud

It fills its mouth up to the brim
Then passes its victims 'round
And the only pleasure it gets outta death
Is heartbreakin' this town

Oh Mother, tell your children
Not to do what Anointed's done
End their lives writhing in agony
In the Cage of the Burning Sun

He'd vampire skin and vampire soul
But face of a little boy
His final thought as flesh flamed hot
Was Mom, the bus, his toy

All kids who come to Sunnydale
Your race will sure be run
If you should land in vampire hands
And the Cage of the Burning Sun

- ------------------------------------------
(Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose)
This song is now in "Traditional Songs"
section of the Little Buffy Page at:
http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html

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

Date: Sun, 05 Oct 1997 18:35:22 -0700
From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Addicted to Blood

ADDICTED TO BLOOD

(To the tune of "Addicted to Love" by Robert Palmer)

The lights are on, your soul's not home
Your neck is not your own
We're tradin' blood, yours sure tastes fine
Another sip and you'll be mine

Goodbye to food, goodbye to sleep
Just feel my fangs, they're in so deep
Your throat is wet, now you don't breathe
Just one more sip, you'll start to teethe

Chorus:

   You used to think you would gag on the stuff, oh yeah
   But after our exchange, you can't get enough
   And now you've even got a gameface...
   You're addicted to blood!

You see old friends, you feel the need
They all say "hi!," you whisper "bleed"
Their hearts beat, there in your mind
Who'd think a pulse could feel so fine?

A blood-starved fiend, you can't be saved
Hemoglobin is all you crave
If someone asks to walk with you
Heaven help them if you do

Chorus

Might as well face it, you're addicted to blood! (X4)

The lights are on, your soul's not home
Your body's not your own
Your lungs die, your teeth bite
Another sip, child of the night...

Chorus

Might as well face it, you're addicted to blood! (X8)

- ------------------------------------------
(Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose;
title suggested by Jen Hawthorne)
This song is now in "Pop Songs" section
of the Little Buffy Page at:
http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html

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

Date: Mon, 6 Oct 1997 10:05:43 -0400 (EDT)
From: [e-mail] (sah)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: ADMIN:  List rules

1. Fiction should have Buffy characters in it and clearly be related
to Buffy.  Crossovers are great, and expected, but general
vampire/monster stories that aren't in the Buffy universe and don't
use Buffy characters belong somewhere else.

2. Discussion of posted fiction is permitted onlist.  Please put
"DISCUSS" in your subject line.  Requests for missing story parts
should go directly to the author, and not be posted to the list.

Discussion that is not related directly to the fiction should go over
to the general Buffy list.  Discussion of fiction is expected to
follow common netiquette guidelines and use PG-13 language.

3. No advertising of <any> items or services, Buffy related or not,
and no posting of non-story items such as .gifs, sound files, etc..
No attached files of <any> kind-- if your mailer makes your fiction
into attached files, you need to find another way to get it to the list.

4. If you're writing a story and including advance information on a
new episode, and you're posting your story earlier than the national
viewing time, please:

     **Mark the post as a "spoiler" in the subject header.
     **Leave about twelve lines (blank or with non-spoiler info) at
          the top of the post.

This ensures that anyone w*o doesn't like knowing about an episode
ahead of time is "protected."  :)   The blank space is for people whose
mailers automatically open up the next piece of mail, without giving
them a chance to see "spoiler" in the header.

Spoiler warnings are not necessary after the start of the episode's
national viewing time, which is currently set at 9 p.m. Mondays,
Eastern Standard Time.  Spoiler warnings are not necessary for reruns.

5.  This list is absolutely NOT for erotic fiction.  <Nothing> stronger
than sexually PG-13 material is to be posted to the list under any
circumstances.  A story may be R rated for violence or language, however.

If you have a question about something's suitability for posting, feel
free to ask one of the listowners.  Sending sexually explicit material
will get you immediately and permanently uns*bscribed.  No exceptions.

6.  By subscribing and/or posting to this list, you acknowledge that
Buffy the Vampire slayer and all characters associated with either
the televised series or the motion picture were created by Josh Whedon
and are owned by Mutant Enemy productions, Kuzui Productions,
Sandollar Productions, and 20th Century Fox.  All stories posted to
this list are for entertainment purposes only, are not sold for profit
of any kind, and are not intended to infringe on any copyrights.

7.  When posting stories to the list, please follow the following
formatting guidelines
- --No story parts longer than 250 lines
- --No lines longer than 75 characters
- --Turn off your "smart quotes"-- many readers receive these as garbage
or weird symbols
- --Put the title of the story in the subject header, indicate if it's a
multipart story, and if so what part this is.  Example:   Buffy Meets
Godzilla (2/65) indicates that this post is part two of a 65 part story.

8. If a story is rated "R" for language/violence, indicate this in an
introduction.  For example, "There's a really bloody fight scene at
the end of this part" or "if you don't like dismemberment, stop
reading now!"  If there's <any> chance that someone might be disturbed
by something in your story (even if it's not rated R) please include
some kind of warning up front.

9.  And last, but not least, the listowners reserve the right to deny
subscription (new, renewed, or continued) to the list for any
individual(s).

PLEASE NOTE:  not following any or all of these rules will get you
the following:

**First offense:  offender is uns*bscribed for one week.
**Second offense:  offender is uns*bscribed to the Buffyfic list for a
minimum of three months.
**If the offender returns and does it again, they're offlist
permanently.

As noted above, posting sexually explicit material is the exception --
you go straight to permanent unsubbing.

Again, welcome!  If  you have any questions about these rules, please
contact either one of us offlist.  If you have subscription problems or
questions, the fastest way to get h*lp is to e-mail one of us at the
addresses below, <not> at the [e-mail] addy which is the
"official" e-mail owner of the list.

Jill Kirby ([e-mail])
 &
Sharon Himmanen ([e-mail])
Listowners, Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fiction List
[e-mail]

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

Date: Tue, 07 Oct 1997 12:16:41 -0700
From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Cage of the Burning Sun (Completely Revised)

CAGE OF THE BURNING SUN

(To the tune of "House of the Rising Sun")

There is a cage in Sunnydale
Exposed to the burning sun
A solar oven for that poor little vamp
They called "The Anointed One"

His mother died at vampire hands
When fangboys crashed their bus
His sire was the Master, Lord
Before that man was dust

Now the only thing the Master did
Was drain blood from some girl
And make a kid in his fruitless bid
To raise Hell in the world

He sent his lackeys up above
Then chortled to his son
And the only pleasure he got outta life
Was in killin' everyone

Oh mother, warn your children
Not to do as Colin's done
End their lives writhing in agony
In the Cage of the Burning Sun

With vampire teeth and vampire soul
But the face of a little boy
His final thought as his skin got hot
Was "Rosebud," his airplane toy

All you who come to Sunnydale
Don't ride the bus, but run!
Lest you may land in vampire hands
And the Cage of the Burning Sun

- ------------------------------------------
(Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose)
These and other lyrics may be found at:
http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html

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

Date: Wed, 08 Oct 1997 16:30:00 PDT
From: "Megan Lee" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Tallulah (part 1 of about 10 parts, more or less)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the regular Buffy characters they are
property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and the WB channel. I do claim
ownership of those characters that live out their lives in my
imagination and on my computer, like Tallulah and Company. The song "Die
with Me" is property of the band Type O Negative. Please do not sue me,
because I am already very much in debt. Thank you. 8o-)

*NOTE:I am not sure as to how many parts this will be as I am still
writing most of it. Please be patient and I will try to get the rest of
the parts up ASAP. Please send any comments or criticims on over to me.
I'd appreciate them. Now on with the Show.
Take Care
Wolfka

                          Tallulah
       based on the television series ôBuffy the Vampire Slayerö

    Shadows lay deep, sparked here and there, by the pinpricks of civilized
light at contrast with the wild stars above. The night is hushed as the
watcher gazes down on this small picturesque town
above the Hellmouth. Down there are the ones she seeks, the ones who are
fighting the darkness with the passions in their heart. Down there is
the chosen Slayer and her Watcher.

        They, the Slayer and her watcher, are different from those from
before. They are not alone in their battle against the vampires, demons
and forces of evil, they have a band of friends who help
them. Four of them are human, a boy, two girls and a woman, who is a
witch but not a witch. The last one is inhuman, one of the undead, a
vampire with a soul. That in and of itself is something one does not see
everyday, the night watcher well knows. A vampire with a soul is a
strange bird, especially, when he is attracted to the one who is sworn
to rid the world of vampires.

        Looking down the night watcher smiles, as she contemplates the
days ahead. Glancing at her companions she strokes their heads and
murmurs softly to them, ôTime to go make some memories,
my friends. Way past time.ö

**********

    The Bronze. The one place in town where itÆs OK for young people to
hang out. To listen to bands and relax. As usual, itÆs smoky and rich
with the noises of people having a peaceful evening listening to various
bands. The dance floor moves like a wind blown grain field, as couples
dance slowly to the sounds of a romantic song. In a dark corner, a young
girl is in the arms of someone much older than she. Her fair hair is
spread out over the black velvet shoulder of her companion, his head
near hers as he talks into her ear. Near them a boy and a girl sit
comparing notes on the snobbish Cordelia. Looking over the fair haired
girl throws in a rude comment about the brain
capacity of said Cordelia and the little band of merrymakers laugh and
smile.

    As the last dance ends, the stage darkens as a gauzy curtain falls
across the front. A hush falls over the Bronze as the crowd waits for
the next offering to be made at their sacrificial alter. The
sounds of a changing of the bands is heard and then silence.

Silence and darkness.

    Out of that silence comes a soft tinkling of ivory piano keys being
touched gently. Slowly in the darkness, a tune is built with just that
one instrument singing itÆs soul. The tune is quiet,
soothing, reminiscent of a brook babbling over well placed stones.

    The fair haired girl, whoÆs name is Buffy, feels the man next to her
stiffen as the piano music changes. The music becomes less whimsical,
and more dark and brooding by the second. Looking
up at her companion she whispers, ôAngel?ö

    The man looks down at her, his face a mask of agony, his eyes so full
of pain that he looks like a stranger.

    ôAngel what is it?ö she whispers again, touching him gently on the arm.
ôPlease, what is the matter?ö

    He rudely shakes off her arm, and tries to insist that it is nothing.
But as the music plays on Buffy sees that he is getting more and more
disturbed. Then the thin layer of gauze the only barrier
between the crowd and the band is raised. Seated at a baby grand piano
is a young woman. It is her hands that touch the keys evoking emotions
that are at once raw, throbbing agony to hear and yet oddly gentle,
soothing to the soul.

    Buffy hears her friend Xander inhale sharply as the woman is revealed,
and with good reason. She is in a word, beautiful. Her flawless pale
skin offsets her dark eyes and ruby red mouth.
About her shoulders tumbles a wild mass of hair, itÆs blackness haloed
in a burgundy sheen. Her outfit is simple, a long hunter green velvet
dress, drapes about her and spills out onto the floor. At her feet
sprawls a large silver ruffed wolf whoÆs green eyes are fastened on
Angel.  On top of the piano, a black cat lays elegantly, itÆs green eyes
are also fastened on Angel. The intensity of their gazes cause Buffy to
shiver, itÆs as if these creatures knew who and what Angel is.

    As Buffy notices all of this, the music reaches itÆs soul wrenching
climax and then there is silence. Wrenching her gaze from the stage
Buffy looks up at Angel and says to him quietly, ôwho is
she Angel? At least tell me that.ö

    Angel looks down slowly at her and in a pain edged whisper replies,
ôShe is the one who gave me back my soul at the command of the Romany.
She is the one who brought me again into this world as close to a human
as a vampire can be. She is called Tallulah, the memory maker. She is
more to me than you can even guess.ö

    As the last words leave his mouth, he turns his back on Buffy, on the
once again tinkling music and flees the Bronze. He never sees the shock
registering on BuffyÆs face, never sees the woman at the piano smile
sadly as she watches him leave.

********



______________________________________________________
Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com

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

Date: Wed, 08 Oct 1997 16:40:40 PDT
From: "Megan Lee" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Tallulah (part 2 of 10 parts more or less)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the regular Buffy characters they are
property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and the WB channel. I do claim
ownership of those characters that live out their lives in my
imagination and on my computer, like Tallulah and Company. The song "Die
with Me" is property of the band Type O Negative. Please do not sue me,
because I am already very much in debt. Thank you. 8o-)




                         Tallulah
       based on the Television Series Buffy the Vampire Slayer

*********

     ôHey Buff, what was all that about? Did Angel get a little frisky
with you?ö a slightly mocking voice breaks into BuffyÆs shock. Shaking
her head slight she looks over to see her friends Xander and Willow
watching her.

    Xander is leaning into Willow, an arm thrown casually around her
shoulders, a smile on his face, eyes guiless. Beside him with her arm
around his waist and trying to not fall over, Willow stops smiling. She
has noticed that Buffy is genuinely disturbed, and her eyes darken with
concern. ôBuffy what is it?ö she asks.

    Still shaking her head Buffy, replies softly in a hurt edged voice to
XanderÆs previous question, ôNo he wasnÆt getting frisky. He ... he said
that the girl on the stage was someone out of his past. That she was the
one who made him human.ö

    XanderÆs eyes widened as he grasped the meaning in BuffyÆs words.
ôThat.. that would make her a ... a ... help me out Will, whatÆs the
word I am looking for?ö he asked desperately.

    Speaking at the same time Willow exclaimed, ôBut that would make her a
witch! And sheÆd be at least a hundred years old by now!ö

    Raising his eyes to the ceiling Xander breathed a sigh of relief,
ôThank you Willow, that was the word I needed.ö He gave her a quick hug
to tell her no harm should be taken by his sarcastic
words.

    ôYeah, really, thatÆs what sheÆd be and thatÆs how old sheÆd have to
be. But unless my Slayer senses are bugging out on me now, they are also
telling me that she is also a vampire. A very powerful vampire.ö Buffy
replied, her tone dry.

    ôA Vamp? Man, why are all the beautiful girls of the supernatural
kind?ö Xander exclaimed.

    Behind them, the object of their scrutiny gets up from the piano, steps
gracefully over the wolf and goes up to the microphone.

    ôGood Evening everyone. My name is Tallulah and I want to thank you for
having us here.ö her voice was rich, sophisticated, the slightest accent
burring through her words. Behind her other members of the band came out
onto the stage, carrying the various implements of their instruments.

    ôWe have a few songs of our own, although we are still at the stage
where covers of other bandÆs songs are a major part of our repetoire. We
hope you do not mind. For our first song we would like to do, is a song
by Type O Negative, called ôDie With Me.ö

    Behind her, a tall man with a guitar started to strum at the stings,
the chords forming a rich backdrop to the words. His voice is soothing,
plaintive, singing of a last wish that will never come
true.

    ôNow like a bird
     She flew away
     To Chase her dreams
     Of books and praise
      Still I miss her
     Yeah I miss her
     Since sheÆs gone...ö

    Over the music, Buffy turned to her friends and said ôLetÆs go see
Giles. He might have a clue as to what is going on. Then again maybe
not.. but I need to get out of here.ö Grabbing her purse and leather
jacket Buffy started for the door.

    Xander looked at Willow and they both shrugged. ôTo the library it is
then... Hey Buff wait up!ö They raced after her.

    Behind them the band played on, the singer asking plaintively
    ôIf this time were the last time
     Could I hold you all life long?
     Since this time is the last time
         Can I hold you all night long?

         Still I miss her
     Yeah I miss her
     Since sheÆs goneö

********

    ôAre you sure that the woman who supposedly changed Angel is a witch
and a vampire?ö Giles asked his disbelief plain on his face.

    ôHello Giles! I know what my senses tell me, and I donÆt see how an
ordinary woman could have changed Angel like that without some help from
her magical friends!ö Buffy exclaimed in exasperation.

    They were gathered in the library, she, Giles, Willow, Xander and Jenny
Calender. The glow from the overheads bathed them all in a ruddy glow.
Giles sat at a table piled high with various tomes of vampire lore and
prophecies. His hair is all mussed up and he is wearing his normal
apparel of rumpled slept in clothing. Beside him Jenny and Willow sit
scanning the Internet on two different computers for any accounts of
vampires who might also be witches. Xander sprawls in a chair, a book on
one knee as he looks over WillowÆs shoulder, and pays scant attention to
the conversation, which is in itÆs 4th go around.

    ôWhy donÆt you believe me?ö Buffy asked, throwing her hands up in the
air as she paced the room.

    ôItÆs not that I donÆt believe you Buffy, itÆs just that... well... I
have never in my life heard of such a thing happening. I havenÆt seen it
any of the books I have read. I just want to make sure we have all the
facts before we start thinking too hard.ö

    ôOh, and when has that stopped you before?ö

    Giles just looked over his glasses at her. ôTo quote you.... æthat was
harsh.Æö Sitting back he ran his hands through his hair, making it stand
further out on end.

    ôRupert,ö Jenny said quietly, as she looked up from her computer. ôYou
may be wrong about there never being any record of such a being. I just
got an email from a good friend of mine, Snugglebunny,ö Xander broke up
in laughter over the name, repeating it over and over. Giving him a cold
look Jenny went on, ôshe is faxing over a copy of an old diary she has.
Her great grandmother was in a romany clan, and in it she writes of a
young woman whoÆs skin was pale, lips blood red, hair like ebony, who
lived with her clan.ö

    ôHmmm sounds like Snow White to me.ö Xander stated deadpan. ôMirror
mirror on the wall whoÆs the fairest of them all.ö He suddenly cackled
like the Disney witch from the movie.

    Elbowing her friend sharly in the ribs, Willow said ôCut it out Xander.
YouÆre  not helping.ö
    Just then the fax machine beeped loudly. Rushing over to it, Giles
started to fight with Buffy over the possesion of the document. Jenny
walked over calmly and snatched the paper from their
grasping hands. ôI will take that, thank you very much. Hmmm these are
the recipes I asked for. Oh good. The next fax will be the one you would
like to see Rupert.ö

    As if on cue, the fax machine beeped again. Giving his young charge a
stern glare, Giles gently took the sheaf of papers from the machine and
started to scan.  He began to pace, his face growing very stern, as he
concentrated on the old text.

    ôAh, I believe this is what we were looking for....Supposedly this
woman was traveling about alone when the clan picked her up and allowed
her to travel with them. Oh wait she wasn't completely alone, she had
two companions, a large dog and a black cat,ö turning suddenly Giles
looked at Buffy. ôDidnÆt you say that there was a wolf and a cat on the
stage tonight?ö

    Nodding with her eyes on the floor, Buffy tried hard to block out the
memory of those eyes. Looking up she met GilesÆ gaze. ôThey were really
weird Giles, they both had green eyes, and all the while they just
stared at Angel as though they knew exactly who and what he was.ö

    ôHmph. Well this may well be the same woman. SnugglebunnyÆs great
grandmother writes of her as having a lot of power, and that she only
wished to go out at dusk. Hmmm. It also states that there was a trouble
in another clan and the woman went to solve it. She returned with a
young man, who left several days later. The great grandmother describes
him as the most beautiful man she had ever seen.ö

    Buffy breathed in slowly and then exhaled, ôAngel.ö

    ôSo it would seem.ö

    ôIÆve got to talk to him. Now, tonight.ö

    Grabbing her jacket, she turned to Xander and Willow, ôPlease, stay
here. I want to see him alone.ö

    ôNo prob Buf. I think there is a banana split calling my name.. how
about you Willow?ö Xander turned to his best friend bopping her lightly
on the head with his book.

    ôSure. Take Care Buffy.ö Willow managed to get out before she started
to tickle Xander.

    ôThanks guys....ö Buffy started for the door, her pace quick, agitated.

    Giles took a step after her..öBuffy..ö

    Looking back at him, Buffy smiled and said ôYes, Giles, I know. Be
careful.ö

    Then she was gone.

*********
    On a hill top across town, Angel stood looking up at the stars.



______________________________________________________
Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com

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

Date: Thu, 09 Oct 1997 18:25:53 -0700
From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Little Buffy Movie Section!

The Summers family is adding a new room to their
Little Buffy house for "Little Buffy's Movies"!
It's a small list of movies now (at five), but
it's bound to grow.  You can find it by clicking
on "Little Buffy's Recreation" at:
http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html

As a little sample, I include item #5 below,
because both the movie and TV episode that inspired
it were just released and aired respectively:

5. KISS THE BOYS (and make them shrivel) -  A centuries-old Peruvian mummy
   (Tiffani Amber Thiessen) just wants to be like any other normal high school
   girl.  But in doing so she leaves in her wake a string of desiccated
   boyfriends like so many emptied juice boxes in a high-school lunchroom.
   The local slayer (Ashley Judd) is baffled as to how to recognize and
   terminate Little Miss "Candy from the Andes" before she strikes again.
   And the danger is closer to home than she realizes!  Her only hope lies
   in Xander Harris (Morgan Freeman), "the boy who got away."

Lisa
Keeper of Little Spike's "Bite Me Elmo" Doll

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

Date: Fri, 10 Oct 1997 15:00:55 -0700
From: Lisa Rose <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Violent Night

The 13th (gotta love that number!) and final
installment in "Little Buffy's Christmas Songs"

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

VIOLENT NIGHT

(To the tune of "Silent Night")

Violent night, unholy night!
Watch your back, classmates bite
'Round blonde Slayer, thrust after thrust
Vampires perish in poofs of bright dust
Sweep them up if you please
Sweep them up if you please

Violent night, unholy night!
Young vamps run from this fight.
Scattering clouds say she's got the Right Stuff
Willow and Xander scream "Way to go, Buff!"
Come on and face her, it's cool
Come on and face her, you fool

Violent night, unholy night!
Joyce's kid gets it right
Stakes flash brightly, her crossbow it sings
Feel the peace that a good slaying brings!
Creeps, you picked the wrong town
Creeps, come turn sandy and brown

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

(Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose)
http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html

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

Date: Sat, 11 Oct 1997 10:52:12 -0400 (EDT)
From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Fwd: Fanzine: This is not a threat!!

This reply has also been sent to the newsgroups.
On 9 Oct 1997 23:29:50 GMT in the alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer newsgroup,
[e-mail] (VampSlyr13) wrote:
> Okay, it seems that you all took my threat of a Buffy fanzine as a joke.  I
> AM
>  NOT JOKING!  :) I am planning on publishing a Buffy the Vampire Slayer
>  fanzine.  However, it will only work if you all contribute!  If anyone has
>  any, or would like to write stories, poems, essays, or draw pictures to
>  contribute, that would be great!  My only request is that it has not been
>  published previously anywhere else, in print or on the 'net.

> You can email me at [e-mail] for more details or to contribute.
> Also
>  looking for ideas for a title.

> Micki

Nice idea, Micki. I hope no one minds, but I'm forwarding this
message to the buffy-beta and buffyfic mailing lists. I know you
want *unpublished* fanfic, but I'm sure that some of the authors who
post here will be willing to whip something up just for you. ;-)=
- --
          +-------------------------------------------------+
          | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. <[e-mail]>|
          | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html |
          +-------------------------------------------------+

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

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