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buffyfic Digest        Monday, October 13 1997        Volume 01 : Number 039



In this issue:

    BUFFYFIC: The Stranger (5/8)
    BUFFYFIC: The Stranger (6/8)
    BUFFYFIC: OT: Slayer's Fanfic Archive is DOWN
    BUFFYFIC: Shadow of an Apocalypse (6/6)

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: Mon, 13 Oct 1997 18:39:19 -0500 (CDT)
From: [e-mail] (Perri Smith)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Stranger (5/8)

See disclaimer in part 1.

The Stranger (Part 5)
by Perri Smith
Copyright 1997

*****

Still, vampires and moral dilemmas aside, life went on, and Buffy had a
history test in the next day to worry about -- especially since she'd cut
every history class for the last week. So she and Willow came back to the
library after dinner, and settled down to the business of forcing basic
information about the Civil War into Buffy's head.

Which was even more of a chore than usual. Buffy was still blanking out,
her problems with Angel looming much higher in her mind than any schoolwork
could. Willow sympathized, but kept trying. Buffy needed the distraction,
if nothing else.

Willow occasionally wondered how she'd become the de facto tutor for the
Slayerettes, but not often -- it was basically because she was the only one
who actually cared about the schoolwork. Xander cared about his grades, but
not enough to work up any enthusiasm about studying, and Buffy wasn't too
big on the whole school thing even when she wasn't distracted by Slaying.
Which left it to Willow to force feed them both enough knowledge to keep
them all from flunking out.

Now, sensing she'd once again lost Buffy's attention, she resorted to a pop
quiz. "Okay, so let's review. Reconstruction began when?"

No response. "Buffy?"

Buffy blinked and abruptly came back to the present. Unfortunately, the
present wasn't going to do her any good with history. "Um, reconstruction
began... after the.. construction, which was shoddy, so they had to
reconstruct."

No wonder she was failing history; she couldn't even bluff an answer.
"After the destruction of the Civil War," Willow corrected her gently.

"Right." Buffy nodded. "The Civil War. When Angel was already like, a
hundred and change."

Willow looked at her with an attempt at Giles' stern expression, the one
that never worked. "Are we going to talk about boys or are we going to keep
you from flunking history?"

Buffy's look spoke volumes, and Willow gave up. There were much more
interesting things to discuss than the Civil War, anyway. "Sometimes," she
confided, happily shoving the textbook aside and leaning forward, "I have
this fantasy that Xander's just going to grab me and kiss me, right on the
lips!"

Buffy smiled, finally distracted. "If you want Xander, you've got to speak
up, girl," she said for about the hundredth time.

The very thought was enough to make Willow's mouth go dry, and her head go
light. "Oh, no, no, no. No speaking up. That way leads to madness, and
sweaty palms."

Besides, she knew who Xander wanted, and it wasn't her. All speaking up
would do was cost her her oldest friend.

She changed the subject back to the one she'd been trying to avoid, feeling
just the slightest bit guilty about it. "Okay, so here's something I've got
to know. When Angel kissed you -- I mean, before he...." Her voice trailed
off significantly, and Buffy nodded. "How was it?"

Buffy tried to stay serious, but a silly smile spread across her face
anyway. "Unbelievable," she admitted.

"Wow," Willow breathed. If she couldn't have a life, she was more than
happy to live vicariously through Buffy's. And the very thought of being
*really* kissed, let alone by someone like Angel, was enough to make her
teeth tingle.

"And it *is* kind of novel how he'll stay young and good-looking forever,"
she thought out loud, barely hearing herself. "Although you'll still get
wrinkly and die, and oh, what about the children...?" She was frowning over
that idea when she looked up, saw Buffy's wry, amused smile, and realized
she was once again babbling, and not particularly sensitively. "I'll be
quiet now."

"No, it's okay," Buffy assured her with a heavy sigh. "I need to hear this.
I need to get over him so I can...."

Buffy couldn't even say it, Willow thought sympathetically, how could she
do it? "So that you can..." Actually, Willow couldn't say it either; she
settled for miming the staking motion, with her fuzzy-topped gnome pencil
as a prop.

Buffy winced, but nodded. "Like Xander said, I'm the Slayer, and he's a...
vampire.... God, I *can't*!" she suddenly exploded.  "He's never done
anything to hurt me...."

She broke off and visibly got control of herself, sitting up straight and
pulling her textbook closer. "Okay, I've got to stop thinking about this.
Let's give it another half hour and maybe something will sink in." Her
shoulders slumped again. "And then I'm going home for some major moping."

Willow wished again she could think of something wise and comforting to
say. She settled for smiling sympathetically yet again, and opening her
textbook back up to the study questions. She had no faith in Buffy's
ability to study tonight, but it was always worth a shot.

"The era of the Congressional Reconstruction, usually called...."

*****

Sure enough, nothing sunk in, although Buffy did give it an honest effort.
At the end of half-an-hour, both of them were more than ready to call it
quits.

"I'm sorry I wasted so much of your night, Will." Buffy looked more
depressed than when they'd started.

"It's okay," Willow assured her. "It's not like there are all these other
things I could be doing."

"Still...." Buffy slowly loaded her backpack up. "I guess I'd better get
home or Mom will start worrying. I'll walk you home first, though."

"Good. 'Cause I was going to ask you to." Willow made a face. "I'd just as
soon not have any solo encounters with vampires any time soon."

That had been badly phrased, she realized, as shadows flickered back across
Buffy's face. Before she could say anything to fix the damage, though,
Xander's voice called out, "Haven't you two had enough of the study thing
yet?"

"Xander?" They both turned around, and saw him leaning through the side
door, one of the key rings Giles had given all of them weeks before
dangling from his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy scolded him, putting her backpack over her
shoulder. "It's after dark, you shouldn't be wandering around alone."

Xander looked wounded, an expression he did particularly well. It had
something to do with his soft, puppy dog brown eyes, Willow figured. "Here
I am, going out of my way to offer my services as an escort home, and all I
get is abuse. Whatever happened to gratitude?"

Willow and Buffy exchanged looks; they all knew if anyone was going to be
offering protection on the way home, it was going to be Buffy, not Xander.
But there was no real point in further destroying his ego.

"Thank you, Xander," they chorused sweetly instead, each girl taking one of
his arms. "We'll feel much safer with you around," Willow added
ingenuously.

Xander heard the sarcasm, judging from his quick look down at her, but
apparently decided to ignore it. "That's much better," he approved instead.
"Aren't you glad you've got me around?"

That one was much too easy, not even worth an insult, so they didn't bother.

Giles had left school at something close to a normal time, for once; the
trio locked the side door behind them and headed for home. Seeing Buffy's
state of exhaustion, Willow signaled to Xander that they should drop her
off first. He looked unhappy about it -- probably hoping to get rid of
Willow and have some time alone with Buffy -- but gave in after a sharp
glare and sharper poke in the ribs. Both of which were probably a bit
sharper than they needed to be, but Willow was feeling hostile tonight.

It was a sign of how tired she was that Buffy not only didn't notice Willow
and Xander's by-play, but also didn't protest when they walked her to her
front door. She simple gave them an off-hand, "Night, guys," and headed
inside.

"Nice to feel appreciated," Xander said, staring at the closed door.

"You know she appreciates you," Willow soothed his wounded pride, taking
his arm to tug him away from the door and back down towards the sidewalk.
"She's just distracted, and tired. You'll see, she'll be much happier to
see us in the morning, after she's gotten some sleep."

"Yeah, if she doesn't have nightmares about that Angel guy." Xander frowned
back at Buffy's house over his shoulder. "I don't get him. Why mess around
with Buffy's head like that? I mean, what kind of sicko is he?"

"Maybe he's not a sicko," Willow defended Angel. "We don't enough about him
to know *what* he was doing."

"We know enough," Xander told her flatly. "He's a vampire, a killer. How
can you still defend him after what Giles told us?"

"Maybe because I'm not half-insane from jealousy."

Willow hadn't really meant for Xander to hear her mutter - not *really* --
but he did anyway. "Oh, so now *I'm* the crazy one? You're trying to make a
vampire into a good guy and *I'm* nuts? Or are you just as gone on him as
Buffy is?"

"No!" Willow protested automatically as they turned the corner at the end
of Buffy's street. It was true, she wasn't 'gone' on Angel -- even if she
hadn't been so in love with Xander, Angel was way out of Willow's league,
and she knew it. But the accusation hurt. "I just think everyone's jumping
to conclusions and it's not fair."

"Willow--"

She didn't know what he was about to say, and never would. Before he could
finish his sentence, a crash of shattering glass came from the block they'd
just turned off of. There'd been a time when they would have assumed it was
something innocent, and gone on their way. Now, they turned as one and
raced back towards Buffy's house.

The glass turned out to have been Buffy's front window, which now lay in
shards all over the sidewalk, as if something had exploded through it. But
Buffy's pleading voice was coming from the back, so they didn't stop to
investigate.

The back door was standing open, the lock splintered. They skidded over the
threshold, Xander calling Buffy's name -- and stopped cold, taking in the
scene before them. Buffy knelt next to her mother, who was stretched
unconscious on the floor. Willow's heart skipped several beats when she saw
the puncture wounds on Mrs. Summers' neck... and the blood.

"What happened?" she asked in something perilously close to blind panic.

"Angel."

Buffy's face was as hard as her voice when she answered, and the single
word said it all. Willow started to shake her head in denial, but it had to
be true. Mrs. Summers had been attacked by a vampire, and only one vampire
had been invited into the Summers' home.

Angel was a bad guy.


- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Perri <[e-mail]>      I *am* the Buffy Evangalist!
NatPacker-*-Horsechick-*-Pretender-*-Cohenhead-*-DDEB2-*-AGA-*-SunS-*-CoJ
"I'm putting a collar with a little bell on that guy." -- Xander

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

Date: Mon, 13 Oct 1997 19:13:27 -0500 (CDT)
From: Perri Smith <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Stranger (6/8)

See part one for disclaimers

The Stranger (Part 6)
by Perri Smith
Copyright 1997

*****

The next few hours passed in a blur. The ambulance arrived after what
seemed like forever, the paramedics gently but firmly shoving everyone out
of the way as they hooked Mrs. Summers up to an IV and loaded her into the
ambulance. Buffy rode with her mom; Xander and Willow followed on foot as
fast as they could.

For all the good it did them; they wound up sitting around in the waiting
room, watching Buffy fill out paperwork with single-minded intensity. To
Xander's credit, the words 'I told you so' never once crossed his lips; he
spent most of his time pacing around the room, since Buffy did *not* want
to be comforted.

Willow finally thought to call their parents to explain where they were,
then, instinctively, dropped another quarter into the phone and called
Giles.  He was asleep, of course -- it was almost midnight and he'd been
spending way too many nights in the library -- but he got the phone on the
third ring, with a bleary, "Hello?"

"Giles? It's me. Um, me, Willow."

"Willow?" It sounded like it took him a second to recognize her name; if
she hadn't been so upset, it might have been funny. "Have you and Buffy
started a club, trading off disturbing my sleep, is that it? Will I get a
call from Xander tomorrow night?"

"Giles, this is serious," she cut him off before his sarcastic British
humor could get any sharper. "We're at the hospital."

That woke him up. "Buffy?"

"Her mom. Angel..." It was surprisingly hard to say the words. "Angel...
attacked her. Buffy came home and saw him holding her mom's body. She....
Giles, can you get here? Please?"

"It's all right, Willow, I'll be there as soon as I can," he said
soothingly, but with an edge of urgency to his voice that spoiled the
effect. "Buffy's mother, is she all right?"

"No one's saying anything." Willow heard the edge of tears in her own
voice. "Buffy looks like she's going to start breaking things, or maybe
people, and --" She saw Xander signaling her at the end of the hall, and
broke off before she could start crying for real. "Giles, I have to go, I
think they've got some news."

"Go, then," he said quickly. "I'm on my way."

She sniffed and hung up, then raced back to the waiting room, where the
doctor was telling Buffy, "We've given your mother two pints of blood and
her red count is stabilizing. We'll going to keep her overnight, just to
be on the safe side, but I think she's going to be fine."

Willow breathed a sigh of relief, but Buffy just nodded. Her face didn't
change from the hard, controlled mask she'd been wearing since she found
her mother.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened to her?" the cdoctor asked,
looking puzzled. "I don't often see that sort of puncture wound on the
neck. It's an awkward place to hurt yourself."

"I don't know how it happened," Buffy lied, instantly and totally
straight-faced. "Can I see her?"

"Of course; she's awake and asking for you."

Buffy followed the doctor down the hall; Willow and Xander exchanged looks
and trailed behind, neither particularly wanting to let Buffy out of their
sight while she was wearing *that* expression.

Buffy's mom looked pale and weak, but infinitely better than she had two
hours before, if only because she was sitting up and her eyes were open. A
bag of blood ran through an IV into the back of her hand. "Hi, honey," she
said weakly, as Buffy came up to the bed.

"Hi, Mom," Buffy said gently, carefully taking her hand.

Willow waved weakly, but stayed towards the back of the room with Xander,
hovering uncertainly.

"I'm sorry I scared all of you," Mrs. Summers said, with a vague smile in
the Slayerettes' direction. "Such a silly accident."

"It's okay," Willow assured her quickly. "As long as you're all right."

"Oh, I'll be fine." She tried to wave breezily, but was hampered by the IV
flowing into one arm and the transfusion tube in the other.

Buffy leaned over her mother. "Do you remember anything, mom?" she asked
carefully.

"Just, um...." Mrs. Summers tried to think; it obviously hurt her sore
head. "Your friend came over," she said finally, slowly, "I was going to
make a snack... "

"My friend?" Buffy repeated hollowly. Willow winced. Another mark against
Angel.

Mrs. Summers didn't appear to notice. "I guess I slipped and cut my neck
on... the doctor said it looked like a barbeque fork. We don't have a
barbeque fork." She looked up at Buffy with a puzzled expression as the
door opened again and Giles came in. He was wearing a scarf over his open
coat, and looked as if he'd run all the way from the parking lot to the
recovery ward. He must have been running, Willow realized as she looked at
her watch. He'd probably set a new world record from his house to the
hospital.

Giles spared a moment to look at Buffy, then Willow and Xander, as if
assuring himself they were all safe, as Mrs. Summers asked in confusion,
"Are you another doctor?

"Oh." Buffy noticed Giles's arrival for the first time; she'd been too
wrapped up in her mom to notice if an entire squad of vampires had come
walking through. "No, Mom, this is Mr. Giles."

Mrs. Summers nodded in recognition. "The librarian from your school." Then
she went back to looking confused. "What's he doing here?"

Giles covered quickly, if not particularly well, giving Buffy's mother the
same quick once-over he'd just given the other three. "I just came to pay
my respects, wish you a speedy recovery."

Fortunately, Mrs. Summers was too tired to question how the news had
spread so fast. Instead, she seemed pleased by his presence. "The teachers
really do care in this town."

"Get some rest, now," Buffy told her, obviously eager to get Giles *out*
of the same room as her mother. She kissed her mom carefully, then led the
way out of the room, the others trailing behind her.

"She's gonna be okay," Buffy told Giles as soon as they were out of Mrs.
Summers' earshot. The Slayer looked dazed, as if the reality of what had
happened had finally sunk in. Willow didn't blame her; she was close to
leaning on Xander to hold herself up. "They gave her some iron, her blood
count was, um, a little...."

Giles picked up the sentance when Buffy faltered. "A little low? It
presents itself like mild anemia. You were lucky you got to her as soon as
you did."

"Lucky?" Buffy's face was fading from shock back to hard, cold rage.
"Stupid."

Xander looked as creeped out as Willow felt. "Buff, it's not your fault--"
he started.

Buffy cut him off ruthlessly. "It isn't? I invited him into my home. Even
after I knew who he was, what he was, and I didn't do anything because I
had feelings for him. Because I *cared* about him."

The self-disgust in her voice had gotten thicker with every word; Willow
couldn't stand it. "If you care about somebody," she said haltingly,
unable to resist the quick, sideways glance at Xander, "you *care* about
them. You can't change that by...."

"Killing him?" Buffy said it easily, casually. "Maybe not, but I think
it's a start."

Willow wanted to argue further, but something in her friend's eyes stopped
her. Buffy wasn't going to listen to anyone just now; the Slayer had taken
over and there was no room for anything else. All Willow could do was nod
as Xander said, carefully, "We'll keep an eye on your mom," and follow him
back into the room.

Xander looked back once at Giles and Buffy, as the Watcher continued to
argue with the Slayer. Willow didn't bother. Buffy had gone to work, as if
it were some nameless, faceless vampire instead of Angel, who Buffy had
mooned over and insulted and kissed. Then again, maybe it would have been
easier if it had been a nameless vampire. It would have been business as
usual, not such a harsh betrayal.

Willow felt that betrayal as deeply as her friend, because she had
defended Angel. If she hadn't, if she had backed Giles and Xander up when
they tried to convince Buffy Angel was a threat, would Buffy's mom still
be in that hospital bed? If Willow hadn't wanted so desperately to
believe, if she hadn't been so helplessly, romantically sure Angel was a
good guy, could she have stopped all of this?

She sighed and huddled in on herself in the stiff, uncomfortable hospital
chair next to the bed, looking at Buffy's mom. She had fallen asleep, her
face pale and the circles underneath her eyes pronounced. The blood
dripped steadily from the bag above her head, replacing what had been
taken from her. She would get better; the doctors said so.

Willow wished it would be as easy to heal everyone else who'd been wounded
tonight.

*****

Giles returned to the hospital room looking grim, and dragged another
chair up beside Willow's, sinking into it with an exhausted, nearly
soundless sigh. Xander paced slowly up and down the far end of the room.
No one said a word, but Willow knew it wasn't Mrs. Summers they were
standing vigil for.

It got to be too much fairly quickly; Willow excused herself quietly and
went into the hall, where at least there were people and distractions --
things to occupy her other than her own thoughts. The magazines in the
waiting area were months out of date, of course, but it wasn't like she
could concentrate enough to read them. She just flipped through them,
staring blindly at the pages.

Waiting.

"I didn't know fishing was your thing, Will." She looked up at Xander,
standing over her with a determined, painful-looking grin on his face,
then back down at the magazine in her hand. Fishing Weekly, sure enough.

She forced a smile to match his, and laid the magazine down carefully.
"Oh, you know, just brushing up for my next bass fishing trip."

"Never know when you might get the chance to catch the big one," Xander
agreed solemnly. She expected him to sit beside her, wished he would, so
she could lean against him for comfort. But he stayed on his feet, his
hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Go ahead, say it." She was surprised to find herself still smiling, a
tired, resigned smile in Xander's general direction. "You've been dying to
all night, you might as well get it out of your system."

Xander didn't look at her. "Say what?"

"Xander."

"Oh, that. You mean the 'I told you so' thing."

Willow looked at him sideways. "Yeah, that would be the thing."

Xander shrugged, his hands never leaving his pockets. "I wasn't going to
say it." He must have seen the disbelief in her eyes, because he added
defensively, "Okay, I might have been *thinking* it, but I wasn't going to
say it."

"Why not?" Willow sighed. "You were right, we were wrong, and now Buffy's
going to kill Angel, just like you said she should."

"Hey!" Xander's voice was sharp enough and surprising enough to pull her
out of her funk. "You think I *wanted* to be right?"

Well, that was a no-brainer. "Yeah, I do."

Xander flinched, then nodded. "Okay, yeah, I wanted to be right. True
enough. But I didn't want to be this right." He started pacing again, up
and down the waiting room. "I'm not a *total* idiot, you know; I saw what
she looked like. She's gonna kill this guy, but it's not gonna stop her
from blaming herself, it's not gonna stop her from feeling like someone
stabbed a stake in *her* back."

He stopped in front of the window, staring out of it in the general
direction of the Bronze, his shoulders tight. "I'd like to kill him myself
for doing that to Buffy." His laugh was bitter and humorless. "If I had
half a chance of beating her to it."

Willow stared at him. She would never have believed Xander was capable of
this kind of emotion, this kind of cold anger. She'd seen him mean before,
when the hyena had taken him over, and she'd seen him mad, countless times
over their childhood. But never like this. Right then, she didn't even
know him.

Sh couldn't think of anything to say, so she didn't say anything. After a
silent minutes, Xander turned away from the window to look at her.
Everything she was feeling must have been written on her face, because he
made a visible effort to smile.

"Hey, cheer up," he grinned crookedly, back to the same Xander she'd
always known, trying to reassure her when he was scared to death himself.
"It could be worse, she could be having to stalk down and destroy
Cordelia. Now *that* would be scary. She'd probably have designer fangs
and everything."

It shouldn't have been funny, but the morbid humor struck exactly the
right nerve; Willow started giggling helplessly at the image of Cordelia
decked out with monogrammed fangs and colored conacts, so her eyes would
glow purple instead of yellow. She shared the image with Xander, he
retaliated with facials at an exclusive midnight salon, and pretty soon
they were howling.

It wore off, of course; the mild hysteria passed after a few minutes,
leaving them sprawled over the uncomfortable couch trying to catch their
breath. Willow felt a moment of guilt, thinking of Buffy stalking through
the darkness as Willow and Xander laughed their heads off, but was running
out of energy for more than a twinge.

Eventually, Xander dragged himself to his feet and held a hand out to help
Willow up. "Come on, we'd better make sure Giles hasn't bored Mrs. Summers
into a coma. Buffy'd really be mad, then."

Willow gave him a half-hearted glare, too tired for much of anything else,
but took the offered hand and somehow made it back to vertical. She
expected him to drop her hand and he did, but only to put his arm around
her shoulders. Surprised and grateful, she leaned on him.

They made it as far as the hospital room before Willow stopped, hearing
Giles's voice from inside. He sounded upset, and looked even more so when
he came striding out of the room, already pulling his coat on.

"We have a problem," he announced, as the pair fell in step beside him.


- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Perri <[e-mail]>      I *am* the Buffy Evangalist!
NatPacker-*-Horsechick-*-Pretender-*-Cohenhead-*-DDEB2-*-AGA-*-SunS-*-CoJ
"I'm putting a collar with a little bell on that guy." -- Xander of Angel

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

Date: Mon, 13 Oct 1997 20:44:59 -0400
From: Anya <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: OT: Slayer's Fanfic Archive is DOWN

I'm sorry to do this, but I thought I should inform people:

The SLAYER'S FANFIC ARCHIVE has been shutdown (again) by the server
it's on, due to it's size.

It's currently 23MBs in size, and they can't support it at it's
current growth rate.   Biohaz and I will be relocating it to
Simplenet, as soon as I can financially afford to.

I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but assure people, this is temporary.

~Anya

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

Date: Mon, 13 Oct 1997 20:44:13, -0500
From: [e-mail] (MS CHRISTINA L KAMNIKAR)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Shadow of an Apocalypse (6/6)

Even given bits and pieces of "When She Was Bad..." I think this is the way
the prom happened. :>  'S been a trip. And now, I'm taking a break!

Chris      [e-mail]

"Shadow of an Apocalypse" (6/6)
by Christina Kamnikar
copyright 1997

        It was definitely a sign of the Apocalypse: Cordelia Chase was
fixing Willow Rosenberg's hair.

        "I really appreciate you doing this, Cordelia," Willow said
doubtfully, "but I'd appreciate it more if I could actually _see_ it---"

        "She's doing fine, Will." Buffy combed out a few tangles, frowned
at the comb, then more carefully unsnarled a few knots. "I won't let her do
anything weird to you, okay?" She grinned at me and narrowed her eyes in
concentration as she played with her hair.

        "Keep your eyes closed, and don't turn your head," Cordelia
ordered, twirling the ends of three or four small braids together in a
concoction that was too complicated for me to follow. It was amazing what
she could do with a hair pik and a round brush; upon arriving at the
Bronze, she'd dragged all four of us females into the Ladies Room, claiming
that if we were going to crash the Prom without proper dresses, the least
"her" dance demanded was decent hair. Buffy had already managed to get most
of the water stains out of her trailing skirts, and we'd gotten some
antiseptic from the bartender for the scratches across her chest.

        Giddiness was the mood of the hour; relief and adrenaline had
combined to make all of us a little silly. Buffy in particular seemed in
amazingly high spirits, almost euphoric with victory. //Well, she came back
from the dead. How many times do you survive something like that? Of
*course* she's punchy.// I chuckled weakly at some joke of Willow's as
Cordelia teased her mane, and realized that it was hitting me too. //Alive.
And the sun's coming up tomorrow... And we beat some very, very, very Bad
Dudes. Life is good...//

        I put on some lipstick and firmly refused Cordelia's wide-eyed
offers to "fix" my look too; something was going on with the girl. Altruism
wasn't something she was known for, although she obviously had more
character than I'd given her credit for, to have bitten a vampire not an
hour earlier. Her efforts to aid Willow looked suspiciously like stalling
to me....

        "Cordelia? You don't have to go out there if you don't want to," I
gently suggested, catching the girl's gaze in the mirror. "We'd be happy to
have you join us, but---"

        "Oh, please." The May Queen tossed her head, her eyes shifting away
from mine. "Once we're out of here, they're on their own. This is just sort
of a... thank-you present. Since Buffy wanted to do her own hair," she
rationalized, spraying Willow's 'do with a small aerosol of hairspray.
Buffy and Willow wore identical expressions of mingled exasperation and
amusement as Cordelia went on. "The end of the world's been postponed. The
least I could do to make Willow look presentable. But I'm not hanging with
you guys all night. I have my own friends here, you know."

        "Gee, thanks." Willow cracked open one eye, her mouth twitching.
"Can I look now?"

        "No. I have to do your face."

        "Cordelia, don't you want to fix your own hair?" Buffy asked,
wiping off some mascara smudges with a damp paper towel.

        "My hair's fine." Cordelia's focus had narrowed down to Willow's
face, now defining her lips with a pale peach pencil. "Besides, no one's
going to be looking at me."

        "You're the May Queen," I pointed out. "*Someone* will be looking
at you, it's only normal---"

        "I don't have a dress, I don't have a date---" Cordelia's voice
broke off abruptly, and her mouth thinned as she got out blush for Willow.
"Those were the things that killed Kevin, weren't they? The... vampires?"
she asked in a very low voice.

        "I'm sorry, Cordelia," Willow said, blinking her eyes open. "We
weren't supposed to tell anyone."

        "Like anyone would believe you," the other girl snorted. Her lips
were trembling by now, though her voice was still sarcastic.

        Buffy joined them at the mirror, Willow still facing away from it
towards Cordelia. The brunette was brushing peach sparkly powder onto
Willow's cheekbones in a tone that matched the lipstick. "You helped us
beat the guys that hurt Kevin," the Slayer said quietly, getting out her
own lipstick and applying a light coat. "Maybe you don't feel like being
here, but you earned it. And you *are* May Queen. No one's going to tell
you that you can't attend in chinos."

        "True." Cordelia looked consideringly at Buffy in the mirror, then
at me. She shrugged impatiently, and put some pale brown mascara on
Willow's eyes, blotted it with a tissue, then drew back. "*Now* you can
look."

        "Nice," Willow said in surprise, blinking at herself hesitantly.
"Thanks, Cordelia. I think I can go in there now, even without a formal...
I just wish I'd brought another pair of shoes."

        "Annie Vega is wearing Doc Martens. Your sneakers are fine."
Cordelia picked up her purse and headed for the door, then stopped, turning
back to look at the three of us. "You guys do this stuff all the time,
right?"

        "More or less," Buffy admitted.

        "No *wonder* you're weird," Cordy mused, shaking her head. "It's
been real, but let's not do this again, 'kay?" And with that, she was out
the door before any of us had a chance to find a comeback.

        "I look okay, right? I mean, I'm not exactly an expert on hair---"
Willow fingered the vaguely Grecian waterfall that fell from the crown of
her head with worry, and I grinned.

        "You look fine, Willow. It suits you."

        "You look awesome. The one thing Cordy never gets wrong is hair,"
Buffy added bracingly, squaring her shoulders and smiling at me as she
headed for the door. "C'mon, the guys are waiting."

        Willow and Buffy exited the restroom and were almost immediately
met by Angel and Xander. Gratifyingly for Willow, Xander actually didn't
look at Buffy for a few minutes as he tried to figure out what was holding
Willow's hair up. "Yeah, it looks great, but if I pull *this* pin---"

        "Xander!"

        Against one wall, Cordelia was already holding court, surrounded by
several of her friends and admirers, all of them offering her sympathy,
from what I could see. I shook my head at the sight of her basking in the
glow of the attention, and wondered how long it be before she was back to
her old self completely; then I glanced back at Buffy, who would probably
never be entirely the same again. She was already out on the dance floor
with Angel, her arms looped around his neck, gazing into his face in silent
wonder. Surprised to be alive, dancing with him, maybe?  Whatever she felt,
she deserved to celebrate. She'd defeated vampires, prophecies, and death
itself tonight, and I couldn't think of anyone in recent memory who'd done
so much while receiving so little credit. //Save the world, go to the Prom,
no big deal. Life's simple...//

        Giles was leaning against the bar, studying the dancers and the
flickering lights, and I wandered over to him and perched myself on a bar
stool. "Hey, stranger. Come here often?"

        "Not if I can help it." He smiled wearily but genuinely at me, his
eyes still on the dancefloor. The Bronze was decorated in gold and silver
decorations, shimmering copper balloons and glowing nets of light
criss-crossing its multi-leveled layout to create an illusion of being in a
crystal ball of glitter. Beautiful, and strange, and even more precious now
after the battle we'd just fought, full of kids laughing and dancing and
being... kids. "She never ceases to amaze me," Giles murmured, watching the
Slayer slow-dance with Angel, his eyes melancholy and not at all as
triumphant as they deserved to be.

        I watched the pair for a few seconds, trying to see them through
his eyes, to understand why he still looked worried. Angel was gazing down
at Buffy with an expression of utter absorption; it was obvious that for
him, there was no one else in the room. She returned it steadily, only
aware of him.  Any young man who would come to her and Xander's assistance
against the Master couldn't be a bad choice for Buffy, just based on
circumstances alone. "He's a little old for her, isn't he?" I guessed
tentatively, hoping for a clue to the Watcher's concern.

        "It's not the age difference I'm worried about." Giles seemed to
consider, then amended, "Well, not just the age difference...." His voice
trailed off into a sigh.

        "Are you going to tell me about it?" I asked gently.

        The Brit turned, a little startled, then relaxed and shook his
head. "Not tonight, no."

        "I thought you were through with secrets, Giles. Is there something
about Buffy being a Slayer that makes her relationship with Angel a bad
idea?"

        "It isn't a secret, it's just... sad." He caught my skeptical
glance and smiled, but the sorrow didn't leave his expression. "Please, Ms.
Calender. Ask me at some other time, and I will explain. But I don't wish
to remember why they will have difficulties in the future. Not tonight."

        "Okay." I considered for a moment, then added, "Someday, some way,
I'm going to get it all out of you, Giles. Even if it takes sodium
pentothal...." He chuckled slightly, nodding his understanding. //You only
*think* I'm not serious, Giles.... juuust wait....//

        Willow danced by with an enormous basketball player that I knew by
sight; he seemed to be concentrating on not squashing Willow, who looked
both thrilled and terrified to be there. I searched the room for Xander,
and saw that he had persuaded a small blonde in red to dance with him, but
his eyes were following Buffy and Angel---and straying occasionally to
watch Willow with equal parts exasperation and pique.

        "Ah, Ms. Calender." Principal Snyder adores sneaking up on faculty.
I think he suspects us of talking behind his back, or plotting his
overthrow. Someday it may come to that.... "I'm so glad you could join us.
And Mr. Giles, this _is_ a surprise. I thought you had a sick aunt you had
to visit in Carmel?"

        "Coward," I whispered to Rupert, who had straightened and was now
smiling stiffly at our boss. "At least I didn't try to lie my way out of
this assignment."

        "She... got better," Giles answered, looking pained. "Amazing
recovery.. We're all thrilled."

        "Glad to hear it. Well, keep a sharp look-out. You never know what
these little pagans will get up to," Principal Snyder said darkly, stalking
off across the room to the punchbowl. Giles's and my eyes met and we both
burst into laughter, stifled as best we could so as to not re-attract the
Fuhrer's attention.

        "Couldn't you do any better than a sick aunt?"

        "You're just sorry you didn't think of it first," Giles said,
taking a sip of his drink, still chuckling a little.

        "I would've, if Snyder had given me half a chance---"

        "Hi guys," Buffy greeted us, coming up to the bar with a small
smile, then turned to the bartender. "Could I get a burger with everything,
some fries, and a latte grande?" At the bartender's look, she explained,
"My date forgot to feed me. Please?" She turned back to us as he went to
place our order, and shrugged her shoulders. "What can I say? I'm *really*
hungry..."

        "Not surprising." Giles was hiding whatever unease he felt about
Angel, only affection and pride in his eyes as he spoke. "You're entitled,
I think. Coming back from the dead must be an exhausting experience." His
voice dropped in concern. "You *are* feeling well, aren't you? Aside from
the hunger?"

        "Giles, relax. I'm feeling..." Buffy's brow furrowed, and she
frowned, searching for the word. "Exhilirated. That's it. Wired. It's
pretty cool, actually. Except for the hungry part." She shook her head, her
smile rueful. "My mom would be thrilled to see me ordering all this---I
haven't felt like eating in weeks, and now I want to stuff my face. I never
heard that being dead gave you an appetite."

        "About that---how exactly did you escape?"  Rupert's expression was
pure confusion now, and I grinned, knowing part of the explanation already.

        "Well... at first, when I got down there, I totally tanked when I
faced the Master." Buffy's expression was troubled, and she looked away,
watching the dancers for a second, then back at Giles, tilting her head and
grimacing. "He bit me, and drank some of my blood. That's what set him
free. The prophecy was backwards, Giles."

        "Oh, no... oh, bloody hell---"  Rupert's voice was furious, and he
squinted his eyes shut in sudden pain. "I should have known---"

        "Hey, not your fault, really! The creep said as much, that the
prophecy was supposed to be like that, so I'd go down there. Lucky for me,
he got cocky and just dropped me face-down in one of those little
underwater ponds. Angel and Xander revived me with CPR. Did they have that
back in the 15th Century?" Buffy asked thoughtfully.

        "No," I answered, since it appeared that Rupert was still silently
cursing himself out for not being psychic. "So, there's no way Aurelius
could have predicted it, since he didn't even know what it was."

        "Cool." The Slayer grinned, then sobered. "Giles, it was totally
not your fault. I hit you, remember?" She sighed, her voice sounding much
younger suddenly. "Then I got killed. You were right. Or at least, you
weren't wrong. Doing this by myself was bad idea." She ducked her head,
then looked up at him, her expression apologetic and a little apprehensive.
"And... I'm sorry. About all the things I said yesterday."

        "I deserved them." The Brit seemed to have calmed down, and even,
maybe regained his sense of humor.

        "No, I was way out of line, I was freaking---"

        "Perhaps, but you weren't entirely wrong, either." Giles cleared
his throat, the rueful smile back in full force. "I've come to realize that
believing that any destiny is immutable is one way of giving in to the
enemy." Buffy lifted her chin, and Rupert's smile widened briefly. "I don't
intend to let it happen again.  From now on, I'll quite probably be unable
to read any of the predictions without looking for a double meaning, or
mentally hearing you say 'not even, Giles'."

        Buffy giggled, sixteen once more, and squeezed Giles's arm, her
face warm with affection. "*Very* cool. Oh, awesome, my food's here." She
paid the bartender, then took the huge platter and balanced it effortlessly
on one hand. "Angel suggested that we go up where I can eat on the
roof---he says there's a pretty good view of Sunnydale...." Her voice
sounded tentative, as if waiting for Giles's approval, if not permission,
and her face was full of anxiety and hopefulness.

        "Enjoy yourselves," Giles said quietly. Buffy relaxed and smiled
glowingly at both of us, then walked over to Angel, following him through a
side door, presumably up to the roof.

        "So, what happens now in the wonderful world of Sunnydale?" I
asked, ordering a triple mocha from the bartender with a lovely feeling of
contentment. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Willow and Xander
dancing together, Xander talking vociferously, Willow watching him with
amused disbelief, I think. Evidently she'd condescended to dance with him
after the basketball player, and he was making up for lost time.

        "Summer. The Master is dead, so things will be easier for a little
while. The days will grow longer, there will be fewer vampires in the
vicinity..." Giles shrugged. "But we *are* living on the Hellmouth. There
will always be a battle to fight." He paused, and studied me obliquely,
then added in a voice that tried for lightness, "But _you_ do not have to
be worried about it any longer, Ms. Calender. I think it unlikely that I
will be dragging you into this kind of situation again."

        "Right. Like you can do it all on your own?" I snorted, blowing on
my drink, and took a hesitant sip.

        "You are not Buffy. Or myself, for that matter. Calender, you are
not compelled to face the forces of evil through a pre-set fate. You *can*
leave, if you wish to. And I can't imagine, after tonight, why you would
not...." His expression was sober and questioning, needing answers that he
couldn't seem to bring himself to ask for.

        I met his eyes over my drink.  I couldn't tell what answer he
wanted, but I knew what answer I was going to give.  "I don't bail on my
friends, Giles." We shared a long look, and his eyes held mine, with a
dozen unarticulated possibilities in them. I cleared my throat, adding,
"Any more than Xander or Willow would. Or Angel."

        "No. I don't suppose you would." His very serious gaze warmed into
tentative smile that finally reached his eyes. "We are friends, aren't we?"

        "To quote Buffy, *duh*!" I batted my eyelashes at him in
exaggerated derision, and he chuckled. I got to my feet, feeling a wicked
smile form as I reached for his hand. "C'mon, Giles. Dance this one with
me. I see Coach Galway headed in our direction, and I need you to save me."

        "I have never known anyone who needed saving less..." Rupert said
severely, not moving, but he did glance in the direction of the gym coach,
and he didn't retrieve his hand.

        "Yeah? Well, I know who to appeal to if I do need saving, don't I,
St. George?"

        "Oh, God..." Giles was blushing as I dragged him onto dance floor.
"You're not going to let me forget that bit of momentary insane
recklessness, are you?"

        "Not a chance. And don't try to tell me you wouldn't do it again,
either. You've got a yen to be a hero, Rupert." I grinned, delighted at the
way he refused to meet my eyes as the band segued into a low-key love song.

        "Fine. Then I insist on knowing your given name."

        "You don't know it?"  I said in surprise.

        "I wouldn't be asking if I did," Giles replied dryly.

        "It's Jenny."

        "Jenny." Another slow smile, one of the ones that could distract me
from arguing with him, or teasing him, or anything at all. "Suits you."

        Sometimes you don't need a snappy comeback. I closed my eyes, and
forgot all about vampires and Darkness, resurrected Slayers and the
Hellmouth, and just let the music take me for the rest of the song.

*

Un-freaking-believable. It's done.. <sigh>

Comment when ya can. :>         Chris  [e-mail]

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

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