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buffyfic-digest        Wednesday, June 24 1998        Volume 02 : Number 243



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: Diaries (3) - Cordelia
       BUFFYFIC: Repercussions 12/16
       BUFFYFIC: "The Graveyard Shift At 92,4 FM" (1/2)
       BUFFYFIC: "The Graveyard Shift at 94.2 FM" (2/2)

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: Wed, 24 Jun 1998 21:34:34 +0100
From: "Mark Jones" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Diaries (3) - Cordelia

Here's another diary... enjoy.
Nothing has happened, no-one knows about Xander and Cordelia, I guess that's
all you need to know.
Summary:  A quick look in Cordys diary...
Disclaimer:  They aren't mine.
Feedback:  This is VERY important to me, it will help me with the rest of
the series... please?  Send it, good or bad to
[e-mail]

CORDELIA'S  DIARY
*************************

Dear Diary,
ItÆs Cordelia here.
What is going on with Xander, heÆs great and all, but can I really tell
people that IÆm with him, what would that be like, how would I cope?  But I
guess love rules all.  IÆll just see where life takes us, people will have
to understand, or I guess itÆs true that they arenÆt real friends.
The only thing that annoys me about Xand is the way he is so devoted to
Buffy; but then again I guess I can see why, sheÆs great; she slays and all
and isnÆt afraid to go after anything, I mean sheÆs with a vamp and all.
Willow is a bit annoying, but if the truth be known, I wish I could be more
like her, sheÆs so clever and has her head screwed on, she doesnÆt let what
people think stop her from doing anything, like Buffy.
If I could just be more like them, but then I wouldnÆt be Cordelia, IÆd be
one of them.
What am I going to do????  Life would be easier if people didnÆt care so
much about what other people do.
IÆll be fine, IÆll go to school tomorrow and be Cory again, I wonÆt think
about all this stuff.  If the truth be known, I enjoy being popular and
having Xander run around after me, even though that isnÆt at all fair and it
is a bit selfish of me, but thatÆs the me everyone knows, why should I have
to change?
Goodnight,
Cordelia.
***********
Feedback:  [e-mail] - you all have an opinion, so
please do send it!

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

Date: Wed, 24 Jun 1998 16:03:06 PDT
From: "Andrea Newbery" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Repercussions 12/16

Title: Repercussions 12/16
Author: Andrea
E-mail: [e-mail]
disclaimers: These characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant
Enemy, the WB, etc... They are not mine.
feedback: please. Good, bad, whatever
thanks: To Rachel, Christine and Jenn


Sunnydale Graveyard
August 21, 1998
8:00 p.m.


The world spinning, Buffy walked aimlessly, desperately trying to hold
everything together. Wandering around town, the tears falling unnoticed,
mixing with the rain on her face. Since leaving Xander her thoughts were
incoherent, the wound that the confrontation had opened consuming her.
She held Angel's coat tightly around her, the feel of the leather
against her arms the only reality she understood.

Her rage at Xander helped to soothe the pain, the anger and hatred
blocking out the hurt. Pushing her wet hair off of her face she thought
of a thousand ways to hurt Xander, to make him feel the anguish and the
pain that she felt. The feelings were pure, undiluted by the friendship
they had once shared. Xander was a stranger to her, as much as she was a
stranger to herself. 'Betrayer!' ran through her head, an accusation,
pointed at Xander and at herself.

She shivered, feeling a chill in the damp air. Slowing down she took in
her surroundings for the first time in hours and realized she was at the
graveyard.  Squaring her shoulders she let the rage she felt carry her
forward, she could handle the memories buried there. She moved slowly
through the graveyard, the picture in her mind of Cordelia and Xander
with their arms around each other fed her rage, 'what right did he have
to be happy after he sentenced both me and Angel to Hell?' The pain of
the knowledge that Angel would never wrap his arms around her again,
never look at her the way Cordelia looked at Xander, rocketed through
her.

Stifling the sob that tried to escape, she became aware that the sun was
setting and realized the vampires would be out soon. Sitting down beside
a gravestone, she put her head in her lap and waited, thinking now was a
perfect time to begin protecting Sunnydale again.  She wasn't sure how
long she sat before slowly becoming aware that she was no longer alone.
She tensed, feeling someone come up behind her. At the soft growl she
turned quickly, her arms pushing away the vampire who thought he was
getting an easy dinner.  She jumped to her feet, almost giddy to have an
outlet for her rage and pain. She barely gave the vampire time to get
close to her before she was spinning and kicking, her eyes roaming
constantly for something to use as a stake.  She forced him backwards,
knocking him to the ground, then waited for him to get up and run at her
again. She was enjoying using her strength against him and not willing
to end the battle.  She put all her anger at what happened to Angel in
her punches, her anger at Xander into her kicks, releasing it all onto
the vampire. She didn't realize she was crying, didn't realize that
Angel's name was on her lips, she knew nothing but this vampire. Slowly
she realized he wasn't rising to fight her any  more, he just lay on the
ground, unable to move.

She walked over to a tree, pulling a branch free and walked back to the
vampire lying on the ground. She pointed the branch at him, giving him a
chance to get up and fight for his existence. He struggled to his feet
and growled as he threw himself at her. She stepped back, letting him
throw himself onto the branch and disappear into a pile of dust. Looking
down at the fine layer of it that stuck to the wet leather of Angel's
jacket she began to cry. Brushing frantically at the dust, remembering
when he gave it to her, the tears flowing in rivers down her face. She
collapsed onto the ground, kneeling in the mud, the devastation she felt
at losing Angel was all she knew. The memories came in still shots
through her mind, the first time she ever saw him in the graveyard, the
kisses they had shared, the words they had spoken to each other. She
sobbed, clutching Angel's coat, her mind trying to absorb the loss.
Unable to stop the flow of tears she cried until she had no tears left.
Letting her pain at what she had done go and finally mourning her loss.


 Climbing slowly to her feet, she realized the makeshift stake was still
in her hand. Dropping it she stood there, the tears no longer falling.
Straightening her shoulders she began walking, continuing through the
cemetery, feeling her mind clear for the first time since Angel had
left. The still shots of her life continued to flash through her head,
memories of all the other nights spent in the graveyard, memories that
included Xander no matter how hard she tried to block them.  Remembering
him saving her from Angel when she had been so sick, and helping her
patrol after Angel had changed. She couldn't forget everything he had
done for her before. Smiling bitterly she realized she would have to say
something else to Xander eventually, he was not responsible for what
happened to Angel, that was her fault, her responsibility.  She couldn't
picture ever forgiving Xander, trusting him again, but he had been a
good friend to her once, and he never would have betrayed her if she had
done her duty when Angel had first changed. If only she had been able
to, then the demon would be the only one in Hell, not her Angel, not his
soul. She smiled painfully, feeling the familiar guilt settling inside
her, finally getting comfortable with its presence.



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

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

Date: Thu, 25 Jun 1998 01:31:54 EDT
From: <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "The Graveyard Shift At 92,4 FM" (1/2)

Notes: Thanx to my co-author on this one, without whom it woulda been a much
shorter-- and much less awesome-- story. Love ya, Sare! :) This one takes
place a bit after "Becoming II".
Disclaimers: Songs belong to whoever owns them. Same goes for Buffy
characters. Rick would be mine, Trish would be Sarah's.
Feedback: Yea, please! To [e-mail], please. :)
Distribution: Not without my permission, thanks.

~

                "The Graveyard Shift At 92.4 FM"

     "Hello, you've reached 92.4 FM, Sunnydale's only home of fun
tunes in the sun, and you're speaking to Rick the Slickest DJ In
Town, can I help you?"
     The kid on the other end-- because it was always kids who
called during the request hours-- seemed to hesitate a moment. Then
he spoke. "Yeah," he said, his voice shaking a little. "C'you put
out Third Eye Blind's 'Jumper', to Buffy from Xander? And let her
know I never meant to say what I did. And she should come back."
     Rick nodded, already hitting the keys that would bring the
disc up. "Sure thing, pal," he said, but the line was already dead.
He shrugged, setting the disc program to play "Jumper" as the Goo
Goo Dolls' "Iris" finished up. Then he swiveled over to the
microphone as the CD player gave him a short countdown.
     "And that was 'Iris' from the Goo Goos, the amazing song off
the 'City of Angels' soundtrack. Next, we have a song going out
from Xander to Buffy-- Third Eye Blind's 'Jumper'. Buffy, Xander
never meant to say what he said, and he's sorry."
     As the song geared up, Rick flipped off his mike and tapped
his fingers on the table in front of him, wondering what it was
that made people call a call-in show like this when they couldn't
even be sure the person they wanted to get their message would even
hear the song. But hey, he supposed it was any chance for hope,
given some of the messes these kids got themselves into.
     A few hours and several requests later-- the graveyard shift
was always rather slow-- the phone line lit up again, and Rick
sighed, leaning forward and picking up the phone. "Hey there, this
is Rick the Slick for SunTunes 92.4, where you can forget your
troubles and sink into the music, can I help you?"
     "Yeah," a quiet, female voice came. "Do you, um, think you
could, well, play that song, I don't know who did it, but, I think
the title is 'Count on Me'..."
     "By Cece Winan and Whitney Houston?" There was no reply from
the other end, so Rick just nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Who's
that going out to?"
     "Um, a friend of mine. Who's kind of in, well, some trouble.
I think. But she might not be, she might be--"
     "Whoa, hold up there, little lady," Rick said, letting the
hint of a smile creep into his tone. "I just need a name."
     "Buffy. From Willow." And the line went dead.
     Rick raised an eyebrow, his fingers tapping out the codes for
the CD while he searched his mind to place why the name felt so
familiar. Then it snapped into place-- that kid earlier, the one
for Third Eye Blind-- had requested the same one.
     *Weird,* he thought. But as "I Go To Extremes" came to a
close, he let the CD fire up Willow's request. "This next one is
from Willow to Buffy, it's Cece Winan and Whitney Houston singing,
'Count on Me'."
     With a yawn and a glance at the clock-- it was just past two
in the morning-- Rick let himself lean back and relax, listening to
the music.
     It was almost time for him to leave when the next request came
in. Standing from where he'd been lying on the floor while Dave
Matthews' Band played, Rick walked over and picked up the receiver.
"Hey, it's 92.4 FM and you're talking to the Slickest DJ in town,
this is the request show, you got one?"
     The pause that preceded this caller's voice seemed to last a
little longer than most of those that came in, and that immediately
put Rick slightly on edge. "Yeah," came a gruff, male voice.
"I...I've never actually called one of these things before. How's
this work, exactly?"
     Rick grinned a little. Newbies, joy. "You call, you tell me a
song. You tell me who it's going to and who it's from. You tell me
why. I relay that information to the listeners and play the song.
Easy enough?"
     "Seems like," the man on the other end said. "Alright, then.
'You Learn', by that Alanis chick. From Angel to the Slayer." He
paused a moment. "Tell her I'm...okay. I got out. Tell her
everybody gets hurt, and everybody learns from the experience. I
don't blame her for anything that happened because she didn't have
anything to do with it. Fate's a powerful force. She did the best
thing, for everybody. She knows where to find me." He paused a
moment, then spoke again. "Tell her I still love her."
     *_Fucking_ weird...* Rick thought to himself, though he had to
admit that this caller was at least slightly more talkative than
the others he'd had that night. "Gotcha, buddy," he said.
     "Thanks," said the caller named Angel, and just as Rick was
turning to program the next song, the phone lit up again.
     "Hey there, this is 94.2--"
     "It's Buffy."
     Rick swallowed, his eyes widening as he broke off the standard
spiel and nodded. This time, there was no difficulty in remembering
the name from earlier in the evening, and in fact he was already
starting to put together a mental image of what this chick must
look like. "Yeah," he said, his throat dry, "can I help you?"
     "'Torn'," she said, "Natalie Imbruglia's 'Torn'. For everybody
I've hurt. That's all."
     And the line went dead.
     Rick stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before he
made his decision. Time for one more song. Either he played that
Angel guy's song, and those two kids from earlier might not hear
from their friend for a long time-- or he played hers and let Angel
down. It wasn't much of a decision, really.
     "This is the last song of the night, for everybody she's hurt,
from Buffy." He shook his head, sighing slightly. "And this is from
me...Buffy, it can't be as bad as you think."
     With that, he hit the key and let the music play.

           //I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel
       I'm cold and I am chained, lying naked on the floor
           Illusion never changed into something real
        Wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
            You're a little late, I'm already torn.//

                               ~~~
It might have ended there...but it might have ended differently.
                               ~~~

                  ::shimmery "what if" music::

     ..."It's Buffy."
     Rick swallowed, his eyes widening as he broke off the standard
spiel and nodded. This time, there was no difficulty in remembering
the name from earlier in the evening, and in fact he was already
starting to put together a mental image of what this chick must
look like. "Yeah," he said, his throat dry, "can I help you?"
     "'Torn'," she said, "Natalie Imbruglia's 'Torn'. For everybody
I've hurt. That's all."
     And the line went dead.
     *God. What to do.* His first inclination was just to
completely bump that guy Angel's bit altogether. After all, there
was only time for one more song. And Buffy, who ever she was,
certainly deserved it.
     *But that guy, man. He sounded like he went through some kinda
hellish wringer. I think the Slayer, whoever she is, deserves to at
least know the score. Cause, if he could _talk_ to her, he wouldn't
have called me...* And wasn't that the point of being a request-
line DJ? To hook people up, help them communicate?
     "Alright, all you night-owls out there. Our last song of the
night is coming up, but I got a little spiel I gotta spin first.
Angel, buddy, I'm sorry, but your request got bumped. But just
cause it's your first time requesting, I'll give you this much.
Slayer, where ever you are, Angel's back, and he loves you. He
knows it isn't your fault, and he mentioned fate somewhere in his
message to me. There was more, but it was a tad on the lengthy side
and hey, its 4 am, so you know where to find him-- go get your
message."
     He grinned when that was done. Now on to the good stuff. Well,
he reflected, technically it wasn't good, but so far as the idea of
sealing up something that had been going on all night went, this
was a good thing.
     "And now, to our last request of the night, Willow, Xander,
listen up. This one's from Buffy. To all the one's she's hurt. This
is Natalie Imbruglia's Torn. And this is Rick, the slickest DJ in
Sunnydale, signing off."
     With that, he cued up the music and made way for the intern's
two hour stint before the morning show.

               ::shimmery "what if" music fades::

                                  ~~~~
             Or, it might have happened a different way...
                                  ~~~~

Comments to [e-mail], please.

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

Date: Thu, 25 Jun 1998 01:32:05 EDT
From: <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "The Graveyard Shift at 94.2 FM" (2/2)

See part one for disclaimers and notes. Comments to [e-mail],
please.

~

       But, then again, it might have happened like this:
                               ~~~

     ..."It's Buffy."
     Rick swallowed, his eyes widening as he broke off the standard
spiel and nodded. This time, there was no difficulty in remembering
the name from earlier in the evening, and in fact he was already
starting to put together a mental image of what this chick must
look like. "Yeah," he said, his throat dry, "can I help you?"
     "'Torn'," she said, "Natalie Imbruglia's 'Torn'. For everybody
I've hurt. That's all."
     And the line went dead.
     *Ah, what to do, what to do. Well, Angel got his request in
first, and I hate to let down the newbies, but this is the infamous
Buffy here. I mean, she sounds like she's in trouble. Her and her
friends sound like they really need this. And her message. Damn.
Makes it sound like whatever happened was seriously traumatic. And
what kind of a nickname is 'Slayer' anyway?* He shook his head.
"Torn" it was.
     "Alright all you night-owls out there! Yes, that's right, it's
the last song of the night. You made it this far, you deserve it.
This last request is a special one, it goes out to-- well, I'm
guessing it goes out to quite a few people. But Xander and Willow?
You two cats better be paying attention, 'cause this one's from
Buffy. Dedicated to all the people she's hurt, this is Natalie
Imbruglia's Torn. And this is Rick, the slickest DJ in Sunnydale,
signing off and saying be careful out there, cause some people in
this town actually _respond_ to the nickname 'Slayer'."
     He laughed softly at his own little joke as the music began to
play, and picked up his coffee mug with one hand, taking off the
headphones with the other. "Have a ball, Trish."
     The intern, who had taken up her post waiting by the door,
quickly swallowed the mouthful of Jolt and grabbed the phones.
"Will do. You leaving?"
     "Nah. I have a little paperwork, then I'll book."
     "Kay. Later."
     Rick walked out of the studio, and down the hall to the office
he shared with the afternoon guy. He sat down kicking back in his
chair, not fully wanting to start on the small accumulation of
papers just yet.
     He sighed. God, why did he feel this horrible? He looked out
of the office door, to the print on the wall. Slickest DJ In Town,
that was him. He shook his head and spoke to the publicity shot of
himself and the morning crew, then tried to explain it the picture.
"I mean, I do this all the time. You get two calls, you can only
play one song. What the hell is my problem?"
     He shook his head. God. Why the hell did Angel, whoever he
was, have to mention _fate_?!? Hadn't he been damn serious enough?
     "But it's not like this is the end of the world. Or even the
deciding factor in two people's lives. So why do I still feel like
I just played God?"  He sighed heavily once more and drained his
coffee cup. "Time to go bother the intern."  He grabbed a multi-
colored koosh from his desk and walked back into the hall.
     "Good morning, Sunnydale!  This is Trish the-- Aaah!  Sorry
bout that folks. Rick just hit me with a koosh. What do you-- ugh.
Well guys, it seems that six hours just isn't enough for Ricky
here. He's _still_ got somethin' t'say."
     "Well folks," Rick said, speaking directly into the mike,
"here's the thing. There's one last request I just gotta handle.
It's up to Trish whether she actually wants to play the song, but
the dedication is one to hear. And Angel, you owe me one for this."
He took a breath. "Slayer, if you're out there, Angel is back, and
he loves you, and he wants you to know that he's okay, the
situation is okay, and yea, whatever happened happened, but he
knows you did what you had to. And, for the life of me, I don't
remember the rest of the message--"
     "Of course he doesn't."
     "--hey, it's four in the morning, and it was a long message.
Give me a break here. Anyway, Slayer. If you want the rest of the
message, you know where to find him. And trust me kiddo, from the
tone of his voice, he wants you to find him. Well that's all."
     "Yea. Except for the song."
     "The song Angel requested for his Slayer was 'that Alanis
chick's' 'You Learn'. Hit it, Trish."

                              ~~~~~
         The thing is, it happened none of these ways.
             Here's the real way things turned out:
                              ~~~~~

     "Alright, then," said the guy on the line. "'You Learn', by
that Alanis chick. From Angel to the Slayer." He paused a moment.
"Tell her I'm...okay. I got out. Tell her everybody gets hurt, and
everybody learns from the experience. I don't blame her for
anything that happened because she didn't have anything to do with
it. Fate's a powerful force. She did the best thing, for everybody.
She knows where to find me." He paused a moment, then spoke again.
"Tell her I still love her."
     Rick was completely blown away. He thought this Buffy chick
had problems. Wow. But _Angel_ and the _Slayer_?  Come on. He
wondered what their real names were. "Hey, no problem. Just one
thing though. I gotta have your real names. Sorry, it's policy."
     The silence on the other end of the phone was creepy, to say
the least, and made him think that perhaps the caller had hung up
already.
     Then suddenly, a response. "My name _is_ Angel."
     "Uh huh. And I suppose hers is The Slayer?"
     "No," Angel snapped quickly. "Her name is Buffy. Is that good
enough for you? Do you need a zip code?"
     "No," Rick said, suddenly quite subdued. "No, that's just
fine. I'll-- I'll get right on it."
     As he punched the line dead, he marveled at the situation that
this poor girl must be in. He was just about to cue up the next
song when the line lit up again. He answered it automatically,
without really realizing that the request line was over.
     "Hey there," he started, without his characteristic zest,
"this is-- "  But he was interrupted before he could finish.
     "It's Buffy."
     He started at the name, the very one he'd been contemplating.
"Are you okay?"
     "Torn."
     "'Scuse me?"
     "Natalie Imbruglia's 'Torn'. Play it." Her words were clipped,
and her voice harsh, as if she had been crying.
     "Um, who's it for, and what's the message?"  He was afraid to
know.
     "To _everyone_. For all the pain I've caused, and for
everything I did wrong."
     The whine of the dead line sounded in his ears, harshly
drowning out the fifteen second dead air warning.
     *Oh boy.* Now what?  Which request to play... Well, Buffy
seemed to be the woman of the hour, and most requested to boot.
*Okay,* he thought, keying up the song. *'Torn' it is.*
     He waited until Fastball and "The Way" came to a close, using
the time to regain his composure.
     "Okay... Well, you waited for it Sunnydale, and here it is.
This is the final song of the night, requested by, you got it, the
most called after woman in town. This one goes out to _everyone_...
from Buffy. It's for all the pain, and everything done wrong." He
paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. "And...I just gotta
tell you, Buffy, there are a lot of people out there tonight
thinkin' about you." He let enough time pass for the words to sink
in on whoever might be listening, then spoke again. "This is Rick
the Slick, signing off with the lovely Trisha to take over. The
song of the night? Natalie Imbruglia's 'Torn'."
     He picked up his coffee, making way for the intern's two hour
stint before the morning show.
     "Have a good one, Trish."
     "Yea, you too."
     He paused on his way out of the door to listen to the lyrics,
wondering just how well they fit the poor girl's situation.

           //I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel
       I'm cold and I am chained, lying naked on the floor
           Illusion never changed into something real
        Wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
            You're a little late, I'm already torn.//

     As the words began to sink in, Rick felt a chill travel up his
spine. He had heard of those who were really down and out calling
up radio shows and such, then doing something drastic afterwards.
Everyone in this business had a friend who it had happened to. But
no one ever had it actually happen to them. Suicide was the worst
case scenario, but it was also the most notable. And from
everything he'd ever heard of, with some of these people, all they
really needed to hear was that they were loved.
     *Omigod. Angel.*
     He'd completely forgotten. He would have told her when he had
her on the phone, but he'd _completely_ forgotten. That guy, while
he'd been creepy and intense, had said he loved her. And that was
something Buffy needed to know.
     He motioned to Trish from across the room, ignoring the nasty
looks she was shooting his way. He took the headphones up from her,
and cued up a song.
     "Had you all fooled, didn't I?  Well, we do have one last
request. And one really long message. Buffy? You'd better be
listening, girl. 'Cause Angel's back from wherever he was, he loves
you, and he understands that you had to do...whatever it was that
you did. He mentioned fate, though that doesn't make a hell of a
lotta sense on this end.
     "So. Buff. Go find your honey. 'Cause, girl, love is love. Go
out there and grab it with both hands, cause it may be the _only_
happiness you have. Buffy, this one is from Angel."
     He pressed the button and heard the opening strains of Angel's
request flood through the headphones.
     From where she sat, Trisha shot him a dirty look and pulled
off her headphones. "You really leaving this time?"
     "Yea," he said, knowing that like Xander and Willow, whoever
they were, he'd done something to try and help the phenomena known
as Buffy. Even if he never knew how things turned out, he knew he
had done what he could. "I'm gone."
     Now it was up to Angel, Rick thought as he left the room, and
may God's grace go with him on whatever journey he had set out for
himself in getting back to the woman he loved.

THE END

Copyright 1998
Rachel Brody & Sarah Liz Gordy

Comments to [e-mail], please.

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

End of buffyfic-digest V2 #243
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