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buffyfic-digest         Tuesday, May 12 1998         Volume 02 : Number 183



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: "Future Imperfect" -- Chapter Eight -- (1/1)
       BUFFYFIC: "Long Day" (2/2)
       BUFFYFIC: "Long Day" (1/2)

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

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

Date: Tue, 12 May 1998 22:14:09 EDT
From: KylenRevik <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Future Imperfect" -- Chapter Eight -- (1/1)

Please send all comments, questions, or requests for missing pieces to
[e-mail]. This is chapter eight of thirteen. See the prologue for
notes and disclaimers.

~

                    "Part Eight: Divergence"

Place: Sunnydale Cemetery.
Time: November 24th, 2002, Late Night.

     So cold. Buffy couldn't believe how _freezing_ she was. Barely
letting herself think, she tossed a glance toward the gravestone
she had put her stakes behind earlier. Despite the chill, her hands
were sweating, making it harder for her to keep hold of the black
candle she had brought with her and the zippo lighter she was going
to use to light it when Angel showed up. If he showed up. That was
something else she was stressing about, now. Not what would happen
if he showed up and mauled her or killed her or worse, but what if
he simply didn't show up at _all_.
     She thought back over the past few days, remembering
everything she had done to provide for every possibility she could
think of. Talking to Cordelia, telling her mom she was going to
Willow's. Telling Willow that if her mom found out about this huge
project Buffy had to do at the library, Buffy'd get killed, so
could Willow please just tell Mrs. Summers that her daughter was
spending the night, if it came up? She'd felt guilty about it when
Willow had nodded and said sure, she would cover for her.
     But it was worth it, Buffy kept telling herself, because in a
few more hours this would all be over. Over and done with. The two
syllables that had been repeating themselves in her mind all night
long showed no sign of slowing: *Angel, Angel, Angel...*
     Four _years_. Almost a fifth of her entire life. She had read
stories when she was a girl, stories about women whose husbands and
lovers went away to wars and never came back, or came back after so
long away that everyone thought they were dead. Not until Angel had
Buffy realized it was possible to love someone that much, that
hard, that you would never leave them and never give up hope that
one day they would return to you.
     Her fear that Angelus might not show up suddenly vanished as
her Slayer's-sense suddenly felt a sharp pull, and she knew he was
coming. Closer by the second. So a non-appearance was one fear she
could strike off the board, because it wasn't going to be an issue
any longer. Now she had to prepare to meet him in battle. To the
end. She'd kill Angelus tonight, keeping only her Angel and not the
demon that had ruled him for the past four years.
     Funny. She'd have thought, after four years, a few more
minutes would feel like nothing. Instead, the seconds seemed to be
stretching out and out into infinity, each one longer than the
last.
     It had taken all afternoon after getting home from Cordelia's,
but she had memorized the lines and how to deliver them. Check that
off the list of things to panic about, she told herself. She took
a breath, sipping in the clear, cold air. She even allowed herself
a slight smile, thinking about what she was going to do to the
demonic son of a bitch that had stolen her lover away for all these
years.
     Out of nowhere, she heard a hiss, and a large mass rammed her
to the ground. The zippo and the candle flew from her hands and
into the grass, and Buffy found herself staring up into Angelus'
cold, cruel eyes, her wrists pinned to the grass and stretched over
her head.
     "Buffy," Angelus said, so softly she could barely make out
anything but the menace in his tone, "I'm sorry, but I think this
game of cat-and-mouse has gone on long enough." His lips twisted
into a sort of grin. "I heard you were planning on recursing me
tonight." He shook his head. "Sorry, babe. Ain't gonna happen."
Then his smile widened slightly. "However...I did think maybe I
could give _you_ something."
     Struggling through his words, Buffy was trying to squirm
loose. But in the years since he'd been re-possessed, Angel had
gained strength-- and now she had to admit, she might be in over
her head.
     But all she needed was that candle, and the lighter...how
could she have let them go, let them fall away like that? She felt
tears pricking in her eyes as she realized there was nothing she
could do without them. Then she forced the tears down and told
herself she had to fight through this-- couldn't let the bastard
get her down after this long, and the battle was by no means over.
     Angelus took a moment to reposition her arms so that he was
holding both her wrists in one hand, his grip like a vise. Then he
pulled a small cardboard figure out of the back pocket of his
jeans, and it took Buffy a moment to realize it was wrapped in
black ribbon. "See this?" he asked. "Know what it means?"
     She glared up at him, trying to work her legs up to a point
where she would have the leverage to force him off her and get back
up.
     "I've bound you," he said, his tone almost an academic one--
even tinged with a measure of pride and arrogance that an academic
would have used. "That means you can't fight me, Buffy. You don't
have a chance." He leaned in and smile, baring his fangs slightly.
"Isn't that lovely?"
     She glared up. "Fucking beautiful," she hissed, struggling for
another moment, but still unable to break his grip.
     He rolled his eyes. "Buffy, come _on_," he said. "Don't be
ridiculous. You know as well as I do that you've broken out of
grips like this. I could get up and we could fight, if you want me
to prove it to you." There was a smirk on his face as he said the
words.
     "Fine," she said, "try it and we'll see."
     He shook his head with a slight sigh. "Nah. It'll be much more
fun the way I've got things planned." Slipping the figure back into
his pocket, he slid his free hand down her throat, pushing her head
to one side.
     To her horror, Buffy found she was powerless. Try as she
might, there was nothing she could do nothing to break free, and
with every passing second she was wishing more and more that she
had told Xander and Giles what she had been planning-- even if
having backup would have meant they would both be in danger, even
if they would have tried to stop her.
     There was a sharp laugh as Angelus saw comprehension dawning
in her expression. Then he bent down and fixed his fangs to her
throat. The moment his fangs penetrated her flesh, Buffy realized
she was in trouble, and in it deep.
     "No," she whispered, as she began to feel lightheaded, and it
was only then that Angelus pulled away from her, blood trickling
from the corner of his lips.
     He smiled down on her, stroking her hair with one hand. "See,
Buffy?" he asked. "We can be together now, you know."
     "In your dreams," she tried to hiss, but the words came out in
more of a whisper than in angry defiance. She could barely make her
eyes focus on him.
     "Every night," he chuckled. Then he let her hands go
completely and, still sitting on her, pulled a knife from his
jacket, making a swipe across his wrist. "Time for Buffy to have a
little snack," he said.
     Buffy tried to twist away, but it was all she could do to get
one hand free and cast it so that it gripped the back of the
headstone a few feet away, behind which her stakes lay.
     She swallowed hard as Angel reached down toward her, and shut
her mouth tight. The vampire was too busy pinning her nose closed
with the hand that was holding the knife to realize she had pulled
one of the stakes out.
     Had Buffy not been ready to faint from lack of both blood and
oxygen, she probably wouldn't have done what she did. But she was,
and she couldn't think clearly enough to stop herself. She was
already having a hard time staying focused enough to keep from
drawing a breath-- which would have meant drinking the blood
Angelus was offering her, and certain damnation.
     If Angelus hadn't been so intent on turning her into a
vampire, he would have seen the stake earlier.
     As it was, neither realized what the Slayer was doing until
the stake connected with Angelus' chest, driving through once-- and
missing his heart. Buffy jerked it back out as she heard Angelus
howl in pain. She felt something cold and sharp slice through her
throat, then drive itself into her belly, and the last thing she
felt before the darkness took her was the stake finding its target
and then falling onto her gut as the pressure there suddenly
lightened and disappeared.
     The only one who saw everything, and watched it all in horror,
was the man who stepped out from the bushes a few seconds after
Angelus had turned to dust.

~

Please send all comments to [e-mail].

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

Date: Tue, 12 May 1998 22:14:27 EDT
From: KylenRevik <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Long Day" (2/2)

See part one for disclaimers and notes. Comments to [e-mail].
Spoilers for "The Becoming" part One.

~

                        //Reach, she said
                    for no one else but you.
                    But I'm here all the time
                     And I won't go away.//

     "...'nuff...dy."
     As Xander turned to leave Willow's room, he thought he heard
Oz murmur something behind him. He turned. "What?" he asked.
     "Nothing," Oz said, but by the tone in his voice, Xander had
the feeling that wasn't what he'd said. Something in the other
boy's voice...
     "No, really," Xander said, his brow furrowing. "What."
     Oz swallowed, turning back to face him. "Didn't say anything,"
he began, then before Xander could call him on the bullshit, he
continued. "Except that you've done enough to her already."
     Xander looked at him blankly. "Excuse me," he said, "but I was
only asking 'cause I care about--"
     "Yeah, whatever," Oz broke in, cutting him off. The chill in
the were-teen's voice was unmistakable, and Xander had to fight
from taking a step backward.
     He stared for a moment at Oz's back, wondering what he was
supposed to say now. What he was supposed to do. He did care about
Willow. A lot. Yeah, he'd ripped her and Buffy out yesterday for
being as stupid as they'd been behaving, for wanting to try and be
all sweet and fix what had already broken instead of just child-
proofing the entire world, but he'd thought Willow had realized
that wasn't personal. It was...well, it was work. Of sorts.
Business. His professional opinion.
     From the way Oz was treating him now, though, Xander had the
feeling that wasn't how it had wound up going over. "Fine," he said
quietly. "Just, when she comes to, tell her I love her, okay?"
     The senior seemed to tense at the words, and Xander could see
his jaw clench, in profile. There was no answer.
     "Like a sister, man," he snapped, not knowing if he was more
disgusted with himself or with Oz for the unconscious assumption
that seemed to be figuring in here. "Like a sister," he repeated as
he turned to stalk away. Cordelia was down in his room asleep, he
would go sit with her till she woke up, maybe by then Buffy would
have woken up and things could be alright again.
     Maybe he'd wake up from this crazy two-year nightmare and
discover he was still a sophomore and everything was still horribly
simple. That the town he loved wasn't on a hellmouth and that
everything else hadn't suddenly gone unmistakably _wigged out_.
     "You know," he heard a voice from behind him call, "if you
loved her, you'd think a little more about how you hurt her. 'Cause
you hurt her a lot."
     Xander turned to respond to that, but the door to Willow's
room slammed shut and he heard the lock turn.
     He stared at it for a moment, unsure of what to do or say, how
he was supposed to react to something like that. _Damn_ it, Oz
couldn't just leave things, could he. Had to tack that extra jab
on. Had to try and hurt him even more. He shook his head slowly.
Damn it, damn it all. Damn it all past anything that'd ever been
damned before.
     "Xander?" came a call from down the corridor.
     He looked up to see Mrs. Rosenburg down the hall, wearing
jeans and a t-shirt, and looking worried beyond belief. "Yeah," he
said with a weak smile. "She's down there." He waved in the
direction of Willow's room.
     Mrs. Rosenburg nodded, pausing for a moment to give him a
quick hug. "Thanks, honey," she said. Then she sighed. "I tried
your parents, but nobody picked up--"
     "It's okay," Xander said, interrupting. "I'm home alone for
the week."
     Briefly, it looked as though Mrs. Rosenburg might say
something to that, but then she caught herself and turned to go
visit her daughter. Xander turned away so he wouldn't have to see
Oz letting her into the room. The threshold he had the feeling he
wouldn't be allowed to cross.
     "Xander?" A new voice.
     He looked back toward the direction of his own room, and saw
Cordelia leaning into the hallway. Her hair slightly mussed, but
she was still beautiful, and he sighed just looking at her. Then he
took a quick breath. "Yeah, over here, Cordie," he said with a weak
smile.
     She turned her head to look in his direction, and a smile
broke over her features. "Hey!" she said, and left the doorway to
his room to walk briskly toward him. "Where'd you go?"
     He shrugged. "Walk." He wasn't about to tell her he'd been to
see Willow and gotten kicked out.
     "Oh," she said, and it was obvious that she could sense that
something was wrong. He supposed it was probably obvious. After a
moment, she smiled slightly. "You know," she said, "you were really
a hero in there." She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "You
saved my life."
     He kissed her back, but only for a moment before he gently.
pushed her away. His eyes drifted downward to end upon the floor.
     "Xand?" she asked, brushing her fingertips through his hair.
"You okay?"
     "Yeah," he lied. "Just...I don't feel like much of a hero."
     She looked at him for a long few moments, and somewhere in her
eyes he found the realization that explained why she'd come
searching for him, why she seemed so edgy. The fear that none of
them had wanted to mention.
     And he realized, also, that tonight...
     None of them would feel like heros, tonight.
                                *
                     //It's been a long day
                             Always
                       Ain't that right.//

     "Buffy?"
     Buffy turned, swallowed, looked at the darkened shadow
standing in the doorway. Her breath quickened before the silhouette
registered. "Cordie."
     "Xander's asleep."
     "Oh."
     The other girl walked into the room, looked around. Didn't
make any sort of move toward the light switch. Thank God. If He
existed. Which Buffy found herself doubting more and more, these
days.
     "Willow?"
     "I checked. Oz is still with her." Buffy shook her head. She'd
been right when she'd told Xander, Oz was loyal. He hadn't left
Willow's bed the entire day. She sighed, her eyes drifting to the
floor. "Xander?"
     "Asleep. Okay. I think." Cordelia shook her head. "As okay as
any of us is going to be."
     There was a long moment of silence.
     "Giles."
     "They still haven't found him."
     "Oh."
     Cordelia swallowed, and Buffy heard every sound. "God," she
whispered. "I'm such an idiot."
     Cordelia looked at her. "Why?" she asked.
     "Because. I let him lure me in. I should have seen it. Should
have felt it. Should have known--"
     "You did the best you could," she heard Cordelia whisper.
     "It wasn't good enough."
     Cordelia shrugged. "Better than we could have done."
     "Not my best."
     "Still," Cordelia whispered, and Buffy had the sudden feeling
that it wasn't respect for the situation that had Cordelia's
behavior so muted, but rather that her voice was betraying the fact
that she was close to tears.
     She sat, silent. Because she didn't know what to say. Or how
to express the emotions in her gut. How badly she'd failed, this
time. It had been bad, before. It had been horrible. She'd gotten
people killed. Hurt. She'd turned the one she loved over to the
Darkness, for God's sake. But never this. Even when he had
systematically targeted her, trying to take everything she cared
about away from her, Angelus had never managed to do this.
     But all it had taken was the possibility that he might kill
more people if he didn't see her. Egotism, pure and simple. She was
the Slayer, and that had cost her the possibility of victory,
tonight. And not the empty victory that even now was on the
horizon, but a real victory. Where the winners felt as though
they'd won something, not just lost the least.
     Egotism. She was the Slayer. That didn't mean they would
rather take her out than destroy the world. Didn't mean she
couldn't have stayed in the library to protect them, and told
herself that even if a few had died tonight, Angel would have been
brought back and incapable of hurting anymore. At the very least.
And if she had, she would have been able to stop them.
     "Hey," she whispered, "you know, you were right."
     Cordelia was silent a moment. Surprised, probably. "I was?"
she finally said softly.
     "I should have stayed," Buffy whispered, as much to herself as
to the other girl. "Could have helped you. We could have saved
him."
     For a long time, Cordelia was silent. Then Buffy felt the air
next to her move, ever so slightly. Noiselessly. As Cordelia moved
beside her, and put her arm around the Slayer's shoulder while the
tears began to flow.

END

Copyright 1998
Rachel Brody

*Lyrics by Matchbox 20, used without permission.

~

Comments to [e-mail], please.

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

Date: Tue, 12 May 1998 22:14:02 EDT
From: KylenRevik <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Long Day" (1/2)

Spoilers: "The Becoming", Part One. This is my way of putting things in their
places so I can sleep tonight.
Disclaimers: What's mine is mine, what's their's is their's.
Distribution: Not without my express permission, please.
Comments/feedback: YES PLEASE.

~

                           "Long Day"

                         //Hey, it's me,
                  I can't get myself to go away
             Oh God, I shouldn't feel this way...//

     *It's not about you, Buffy.*
     Not about her. Never about her. Then why couldn't he _stop_
thinking about her, what was wrong with him that every thought he
had possessed him in ways he'd never been possessed by thoughts
before?
     *It was never about you.*
     Never her. Never.
     He kicked a gravestone, watching with a tinge of satisfaction
as it toppled into the grass. Fuckin' idiot humans. Fuckin' bitch.
Arrogant, past arrogant even. God, what was with her, thinking she
had any right to--
     *Except it's not about her, damnit. Get that fuckin' straight,
loser.*
     He spit at the ground in disgust, wondering how it was the air
itself could carry her scent. Bitch. He'd go home to Dru now. Find
out how things at the library went. Losers. Idiots. Arrogant little
_bitch_, thinking she could mean enough to him so he'd forsake his
plans for his Armageddon, his precious end-of-the-world, his
everything. For what, for her? From some pathetic sniveling Slayer
he wanted to kill so badly it was hurting inside? He wanted it
empty inside, and instead there was this aching, burning desire to
feel her blood on his hands, to feel her flesh ripping beneath his
jaws, to see and feel her breaking with every ounce of himself.
     The library. He grinned to himself, spitting again to see if
the air passing over his taste buds had stopped reeking of her, her
sweat, her hair, her perfume. It was making him fucking _sick_.
Little bitch was gonna find quite a sight, if Dru had done her job.
He wondered how many dead there would be. He wondered, how could
she have been that _arrogant_, that stupid, he had known she was an
airhead but this was just idiotic. Or maybe she thought the other
Slayer's presence had meant something, maybe she thought having
backup made her invincible.
     But then again, he knew what they didn't. This Kendra, she was
far weaker than Buffy, and she was all method. Because, he told
himself, that's what had been catching him with Buffy, time after
time-- how the little bitch didn't do anything the way she was
supposed to. How she never spoke or thought the way she was
supposed to speak or think.
     He let his gaze take in the graveyard with another grin, and
another dry hack, but then he didn't care whether or not he could
taste her, whether or not he could still feel the brushburn or two
she'd given him pulsing.
     A growl began to build in his throat as the corners of his
lips curled upward into a smile. He let it rumble, feeling it fight
its way up from the darkness inside him, through his throat,
finally letting loose with a roar that threatened to split his very
vocal cords. His eardrums nearly burst from the strain and volume,
the air beating against them in close and tight pulses.
     He let the roar die on its own, without forcing, without
easing. Without making himself feel anything. Operating purely on
instinct. And when it, like everything else around him in the still
of the graveyard, had died, he smiled.
     "You're gonna pay, Slayer," he said, his voice a low rumble
over the roughened sensations that were traveling down his throat.
"I'm gonna cut you to fucking pieces."
     Inside him, something small and nearly silent began to weep
anew.
                                *
              //Reach down your hand in your pocket
                And pull out some hope for me.//

     "Will," Oz murmured quietly, holding her hand in his own and
squeezing it gently. His voice was breaking, almost, in his throat.
He was going to cry here if he wasn't careful, and he didn't know
if that was a good thing or a bad one. He'd never cried for
somebody else before. Sure, there had been skinned knees and stuff,
but he wasn't the crying kind. Most of the time he kind of wandered
around in a daze, not knowing what to do.
     He sighed. "Jeez, Will." Shook his head once. Swallowed. Felt
himself slowly moving into that dazed plane, where he wouldn't feel
anything and it wouldn't hurt anymore. Maybe he could numb himself
out, some. He knew Devon did that, and the other guys, sometimes.
Sometimes. He didn't want to numb this out, though. Not what he was
feeling for her, for his Willow.
     He blinked back a tear, moving to let his other hand enfold
the hand that was already holding her. "Shoulda told me," he said
quietly. "I mean, you know, not that..." He sighed, trailing off.
Not that what? He wouldn't have been able to do anything, he
supposed. He wished he would have.
     "Hey," came a voice from behind him.
     Oz turned, surprised to see that Cordelia wasn't hanging on
Xander's arm. Or anywhere else around. "Hey, man," he replied,
taking in the cast that had been wrapped around Xander's broken
arm. Compound fracture, the nurse had said. Earlier, when Cordelia
had actually thought that maybe Willow's boyfriend might want to
know what had happened to her.
     "So," Xander said, his voice quiet, "anything change?"
     Oz shook his head. "No," he said. His eyes strayed back down
to Willow, as he remembered the phone conversation they'd had the
day before. *"I don't know what I'm supposed to think. Xander's
been my best friend for, for forever, and now he-- well, he just
went _off_ at Buffy and me, and, and Angel isn't, it isn't his
fault..."* Then she'd dissolved into tears. And Oz had sat there,
soothing her over the line, not knowing how much he was helping and
how much had hurt even more. Because he didn't know her well
enough, yet, to know how to help when other people betrayed her.
     "Oh," Xander replied. The dark-haired teen took a breath, then
half-smiled. "You know," he said, "if you want to go get some
coffee or something, I could, you know, sit here with her..."
     Oz shook his head. "Nah," he said quietly. "I'll stay."
     "You sure?"
     "Yeah."

~

More to come. Comments to [e-mail], please.

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

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