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buffyfic-digest         Monday, June 29 1998         Volume 02 : Number 252



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: Repercussions, (13/16)
       BUFFYFIC: "Fallen From Grace" (8/11)

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.

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Date: Mon, 29 Jun 1998 10:40:12 PDT
From: "Andrea Newbery" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Repercussions, (13/16)

Title: Repercussions part 13
Author: Andrea
e-mail: [e-mail]
disclaimer: All charecters used here are the property of Joss Whedon,
Mutant Enemy, the WB, etc. They are not mine.
feedback: Please. Good, bad, whatever.
Thanks: Christine, Rachel and Jenn.


Hell


Xander put one foot in front of the other, slowly moving further into
the darkness.  He stopped suddenly, fear overcoming him. He spun around
hoping to see the room he had just been in waiting behind him, but there
was nothing except blackness. Staring into the darkness, his heart
pounding he reached out, needing to feel it, to know if it was solid.
His hand touched it tentatively, feeling the slimy texture, then harder,
realizing it was solid. Pulling his hand back as if he had touched hot
coals he stood there. He knew he needed to turn, to walk further into
the blackness, but was unable to move, afraid his legs would collapse if
he tried to turn. Breathing deeply he tried to calm his pounding heart.
Slowly turning his body he stared into the darkness. Taking one
tentative step after another he began walking forward again, staring
straight ahead, hoping he didn't see anything.

He stretched his hands out, feeling for walls and was shocked when he
touched the slimy walls almost immediately.  Panicked by the narrowness
of the passage he reached up to see if he had any space above him and
felt the roof only inches above his head. He could hear his breath,
ragged in his ears. The smallness of the passage was choking him, the
sweat running from his forehead. He tried to think only of his goal, all
thoughts of the warnings Whistler had given him disappearing from his
mind. He banged into the wall and realized the path was curving. Holding
his hand out, running it along the wall, using it to guide him through
the turn. The passageway became somewhat lighter, still dark and closed,
but he could make out the walls in the blackness, could see the
dirt-like floors. Realizing his hand was still leaning on the damp
walls, he pulled it away, wiping it on his pants. Walking faster now,
the ability to see the path giving him confidence. Turning another
corner he saw a figure walking toward him. He stopped, looking
frantically around for somewhere to hide, not wanting to face any
demons. He closed his eyes fighting down his panic and opened them to
stare into familiar eyes. He gasped, stepped backwards away from the
figure, his eyes filled with disbelief. The familiar figure smiled
malevolently at him and opening its mouth began to speak, "What, no
happy greeting for your old friend Jesse?"

Xander choked back a small scream, staring at his old friend in horror.
Unable to speak or move he just waited. Jesse looked at him, an evil
glint in his eyes, "Well, I'm happy to see you, my betrayer. I see you
kept it up. Once a betrayer, always a betrayer."

Xander continued staring in horror, not understanding his words.  His
mind filled with pain at the thought that his old friend now resided in
Hell.  Jesse moved in closer, his body towering over Xander. Panicking,
Xander moved backwards, backing into the wall. He stood there trapped as
Jesse began to speak again, "You sent me here, You!"

"No!" The word rushed through Xander's fear, "You fell into a stake. I
didn't do it."

"Before." Jesse spoke softly, his voice chilling, "Before I died. Before
I was turned into a demon. You weren't quick enough. You failed me. You
sentenced me to this."

Xander's mind spun with guilt, he had failed his friend, had held the
stake that ended his existence. He stared at him, the guilt at his
failure evident on his face. He spoke passionately, trying to convince
Jesse of his sincerity; "I tried." His voice was breaking, the guilt
crushing him, "I didn't want you to die. I wanted to save you. I did.
Jesse..."

"Really?" Jesse spoke casually now, "Then why aren't you here to save
me? Why didn't you try to curse me?"

Xander swallowed, his pulse racing, his thoughts incoherent, "I didn't
know the curse. I would have done it to you. I swear I would have." He
was crying now, his words choked out between gasps.

"But you're here to save Angel. You think he deserves to live more than
I do?  I was your best friend. I had just become a demon. I barely even
had a chance to kill." Jesse spit the words at him, the hatred hitting
Xander in the face. "Angel's killed your friends. Tormented you, but
it's him you're taking out of here. While I rot here forever."

"I...I wanted Angel dead." His voice sounded weak to him even, "I...I
don't think he deserves to..."

Interrupting him Jesse continued, "But you're here to save him." Tilting
his head Jesse considered Xander, "Aren't you?"

Xander sputtered, shocked at his words, "I...I...Jesse." His voice
pleading with Jesse to understand. Feeling the walls around him closing
in more tightly, unable to catch his breath he collapsed to the ground.
Laying there, waiting for Jesse's next onslaught to rip through him.
But, nothing. Jesse didn't speak and when he finally looked up he was
alone in the darkness again. Sitting up he pulled his knees to his
chest, sobbing for his friend. His tears finally slowed, his purpose
coming back to him. Jesse was gone, he couldn't save him. Standing
slowly he began to walk further into Hell.

Rounding another bend he began hearing a familiar laughter. He continued
walking, towards the laughter, his panic rising, sweat dripping down his
back. He could see four figures walking towards him, their faces twisted
with laughter, sounding like a pack of wild animals bearing down on him.
They came into view, his four fellow hyenas. Xander's mind was spinning,
they weren't dead. He knew they weren't dead. They weren't really here,
maybe Jesse hadn't been either. They came up to him, surrounded him,
sniffing the air around him, growling as they smelled his fear. Kyle
spoke first, "It's about time you got here." The others nodded and
growled, coming in closer to him. Lance curled his nose, "You shouldn't
have gotten away with what you did. We all paid and you didn't"

"I paid." He wanted to get away from them but was afraid to make any
sudden moves, "You guys are alive. You can't be here."

"No?" They spoke in unison, the word ending in a growl. Kyle licked his
lips, "We all killed a man, you abandoned us. You were too busy trying
to rape your friend to be with us. Now we suffer for that. And you go
on. Betrayer!"

"I was possessed. We all were possessed. It wasn't your fault, what you
did." He spoke quickly, his voice shaky.  His head trying to come to
terms with their words.

"Is that what you tell yourself? So you can look your friends in the
eye?  You tried to destroy Willow with your words, tried to rape Buffy.
You did it, your hands, your words, your desire." Kyle sneered the words
out, his eyes gleaming.

"No. I didn't. I wouldn't." He choked the words out, the memory of his
actions flooding his mind.

"Then why did you try to rape only Buffy? Why not Willow too? If it was
possession, and you had nothing to do with it? Didn't you want Buffy?
Haven't you always wanted Buffy?"

Xander stared at them, his face pleading with them to stop. He couldn't
take this, it was all wrong. It hadn't been that way. He had no control,
he wasn't just acting out his darkest fantasies. He couldn't have been.
The pack slid in even closer to him, growling low in their throats. He
closed his eyes, expecting to feel their teeth tearing at him any
moment. Instead he felt them move away, the growling getting fainter. He
opened his eyes to find himself alone again. He stood still, waiting for
his shaking too calm enough so that he could move. The words Whistler
had spoken finally coming back to him. All his regrets, anything he
feels bad about, twisted and returned to haunt him. Smiling shakily he
spoke the words out loud, "It's not real. It's just Hell twisting
things. It's not real."

He continued walking wishing that it didn't feel so real, that the words
spoken to him weren't still reverberating in his head. He stumbled as he
walked, hitting the wall. He straightened himself, reminded once again
of the narrowness of the passage. He breathed shallowly, trying not to
think of anything at all. He just had to get Angel. Just get him and get
out. He had to do this, for Buffy. Feeling the weight of his mission
again he moved quickly forward, looking only at the floor, not wanting
to meet anymore familiar faces.

 He turned a corner, hearing a low murmur of voices in the distance. He
kept repeating Whistler's words in his head, it's not real, it's
twisted, until he came face to face with a mob of girls, a sea of angry
faces. He almost smiled, what trip to Hell would be complete without
remembering his dabble in the black arts. The mob moved closer, pushing
him backwards and then off his feet. He lay there wondering if you could
be crushed to death by a vision. One girl moved to the front of the mob,
hovering over him she spoke, "Free will is a foreign concept to you,
isn't it Xander?"

Another girl spoke before he could think of anything to say, "Xander
thinks that whatever he wants he should have, and he wanted Cordelia
back. Even if he had to trick her to get her." The mob laughed at that,
a mean laugh. He saw Amy seconds before she spoke, "He blackmailed me
into casting it. I had no choice." The girls were all nodding, one
saying, "Xander doesn't give anyone choices. Look what he did to his
best friends."

 He stared at them, the voices echoing in his head, they were right, he
had taken away their free will, he had taken away Buffy's. He sunk into
himself, guilt for his actions overcoming his knowledge that everything
said was taken and twisted from his own thoughts.  The girls disappeared
slowly, their voices echoing through the narrow passage. He lay there,
unable to get up, to face anymore of his actions. A familiar voice spoke
to him then, "Give me your hand." Opening his eyes, he looked into
Giles' face. Taking the offered hand he let Giles pull him up, unable to
remain quiet in his excitement, "Boy, am I glad to see you. It's rough
in here. How did you figure out what I was doing?" He stopped to catch
his breath, waiting for Giles to answer him.

He could see Giles considering him slowly, his face twisting.  He
watched him, wondering why he didn't speak. Giles leaned in so close to
Xander that he could feel his breath on his face.  Speaking deliberately
Giles whispered, " Don't you ever learn?" Xander felt his jaw drop. What
was this?  He searched Giles eyes, only realizing now how angry they
were. Giles grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him, started
to shout, spittle flying from his mouth, "Magic again? You almost killed
Buffy the last time you used the black arts! Are you stupid? Can you not
learn?"

Xander tried to pull away, but Giles' hands held him tight.  Confused by
the magnitude of Giles' anger he tried to explain himself, "But...I'm
here to help Buffy. I'm going to save Angel." Looking hopefully at
Giles. Sure that he would understand why he was doing this. But watching
Giles' face he realized that wasn't going to happen.

Giles' released him, and Xander stepped away from him, his hands rubbing
were Giles had held him. Giles spoke softly again, "Help Buffy? Now you
want to help Buffy? Now? Why now? Cause you've realized there are
consequences for you? It was fine by you when only Buffy and Angel had
to pay. Exactly how selfish are you?" Giles' face was distorted, the man
who had dealt with Ethan returned. Xander shuddered, trying to figure
out how to explain it to him, how to make him understand, "Giles. Angel
killed people. He killed Jenny."

"You imbecile. Angel didn't kill Jenny, the demon did." Giles was
smiling a similar smile to the one Jesse had worn. Xander shut his eyes,
trying to block Giles' voice. He stood quietly, hoping Giles would
disappear like all the others had.

Holding his hands to his face he waited for the next installment of
Giles anger, instead a hand touched his shoulder. He uncovered his eyes,
saw Willow standing in front of him. Immediately he covered his eyes
again, rocking back and forth saying, "It's not real, not real. Willow
is not here." Hearing her voice answer him back, "But I am." His brain
was muddled, the guilt he felt bearing down on him. Taking a deep breath
he opened his eyes, looked into Willows face, jumped when he noticed
Giles standing behind her. He tried to recall Whistler's words, to
remember that this wasn't real, but to have both of them looking at him
with hatred was almost unbearable.

Willow ran her hand over his face, wiping his tears away, her own eyes
glittering, "Why are you crying Xander. Everything has turned out like
you wanted it. Angel is gone, why not leave him gone?  You betrayed us
to get what you wanted. Just like you did when you started with
Cordelia, you betrayed our friendship for her and then, like now, you
were too much of a coward to tell anyone. Pretty impressive. Then when
Cordelia dumped you, you made it even worse.  I almost killed you. I
would have had to live with that, because you were upset about Cordelia.
What if I had lost Oz because of that? And you never apologized, never
tried to make it up. Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?"

Giles was nodding, agreeing with everything she said.  Xander tried to
speak, tried to tell himself it was all in his head, but everything was
true, he couldn't defend himself against this.  Giles stepped closer to
him again, speaking slowly, "She's right you know. You are a coward. And
you're dangerous to everyone around you, Buffy more than most.  What if
we couldn't change her back? What if the world lost a slayer because you
were dumped? She was turned into a rat because of you! And that wasn't
enough for you, no, you had to trick her into sending the man she loved
to Hell. "

"I thought it was best. Giles, you know how hard it was for Buffy to get
the strength to kill him, hope would only have made it harder.  I was
trying to help." Xander talked only to Giles, afraid to even look at
Willow.

"Help?" His body froze hearing Buffy's voice behind him, he waited,
shoulders tense, unable to turn around until she spoke again.  "Help me?
That's the lie you're spewing now? You wanted to help me. Cause having
Angel back wouldn't help me? Come on Xander, tell the truth for once."
Buffy's face was derisive, as she came to stand in front of him, beside
Giles and Willow. They stood in front of him, their disappointment and
disgust apparent with every breath. They were not speaking just staring
at him as he felt himself collapsing under the force of their stare. He
struggled to think of something to say to them, to fix things between
them.

"Well?" Buffy's voice was hard. He stared at her for a long minute then
turned to Willow and Giles, remembering all the things they had gone
through together, all the monsters they had defeated, unable to believe
that it was all over. He didn't even try to check the tears that ran
down his cheeks, as they stared at him with hate in their eyes.
Crumbling slowly, he leaned against a wall, feeling the slime soak
through his shirt. He could feel himself folding, knowing he could never
convince them that he was sorry, but then he heard Whistler's voice in
his head, felt his mind clear. Straightening he looked at Giles,
thinking he should understand if anyone did, Giles had made horrible
mistakes in his youth, mistakes that had cost lives. And Buffy, Buffy
had let her emotions rule her all the time, and she hated him because he
had done the exact same thing. Willow, he looked at her, unable to think
of a single reason why she shouldn't hate him. He had let her down most
of all, let their friendship down.  Speaking only to Willow, his eyes
begging forgiveness, "I'm so sorry, Willow, I shouldn't have hidden
things from you."

"Sorry?" Buffy's voice echoed through Hell.

Giles snickered, "Sorry?"

Willow looked at him, her face changed by the hatred, "Sorry?" Her voice
rose high, "You're sorry? So what. What do you want from it? What good
does it do?"

Xander stared at her, at all of them, his guilt being overtaken by
anger, he had done some things right. Turning to Buffy he spoke, "You'd
be dead if it weren't for me! Remember that?" Turning towards Giles he
spat out, "And you! You'd still be tied up at the mansion!" Speaking
loudly now, he turned to Willow, "And who figured out how to stop the
Judge?" He spoke loudly now, to no one in particular, "I've done things.
Good things. And I'm sorry for the thing I did wrong, but that doesn't
erase everything else. It doesn't erase the friendship we had. I'm
making it up. I'm getting Angel back."

He stopped, breathing heavily, Whistler's words running through his
mind. Turning to the visions of Buffy, Giles and Willow he spoke one
last time, "I made a mistake. I'm fixing it. I am not a horrible
person." They flew at him as he spoke, calling him every vile name he
had ever heard, and many he hadn't. Silently repeating Whistlers words
he stood there, holding his ground. They stopped, realizing he wasn't
reacting, glaring at him they slowly disappeared. He only let himself
relax then, finally believing that they hadn't been real. Running his
hands over his face, trying to erase the memory of the words he had
heard he stumbled off, heading deeper into Hell.

Rounding a corner he heard a low keening. Putting his hands over his
ears he cautiously moved closer to the sound. Seeing a figure in the
distance, kneeling in the dirt, his head in his hands. The sound coming
from him was full of such pain Xander could barely stand to walk closer
to him. But he did, recognizing the shoulders, the hair. Walking slowly
up to him, praying that it was Buffy's Angel, knowing it had to be,
Angelus would never feel this pain.  Stopping by his shoulder he spoke
softly, "Angel?"
*******



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

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

Date: Mon, 29 Jun 1998 17:19:58 EDT
From: <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Fallen From Grace" (8/11)

Notes: Takes place the January or so of Angel's change. E-mail me for missing
pieces. :)
Disclaimers: Blake and the Coordinator, etc, are mine. The rest would appear
to belong to High God Joss.
Distribution: Not without my permission, please.
Feedback: YES! To [e-mail], please, whether it be good or bad or
something in-between.

And now, on to the show!

~
                              Eight

     It was too damn quiet. Just like in those old movies he liked
to watch, Pike thought, where everything went silent about ten
seconds before the monsters jumped through the windows, smashed
everything up, and sent everybody but the hero screaming and
running for the hills.
     Difference being that he had been waiting here in this god-
awful silence for a lot longer than ten seconds, the hero was a
chick, and she was off on some sort of freaky weird-ass thing
beating up the jerk who'd tried to take him out earlier.
     That, and in those movies they didn't usually have an aging
British guy who puttered around libraries during the day and slayed
vampires at night. No, the stock-nerd did perfectly fine for B
movies, and they were usually reasonably young, and when they came
through at the end there was usually a nerd-chick standing around
to start hanging on them, so that both the hero guy and the nerd
guy had somebody they could go home and screw around with.
     Pike sighed. He watched way too many bad movies, he thought,
and he looked up at where Giles was still looking over some funky
big book. He glanced down at his watch. Buffy had been gone for
hours now. It was way long past sunset. She'd ducked out in the
middle of the day, for crying out loud; didn't she have classes? Or
cheerleading, or something, or whatever it was she did when she
wasn't Slaying these days?
     Then again, maybe she knew where that Angel bastard went
during the daytime, and maybe that meant she was gonna be in a
great big fat pile of shit when she wound up getting in a fight
with him, and maybe it'd be for the best if Pike ditched Sir Giles
the Stuffy and went off and tried to pull off a rescue.
     Or maybe, he thought next, he should try some anti-delusion
medication before his head got so big it exploded. Buffy was the
Slayer, not some skinny little hack who didn't know what she was up
against. At least, that was mostly what he was hoping, 'cause if
she wasn't then he was in some seriously deep shit himself. And
he'd hate to think about what might happen if either he or her
Watcher had underestimated her fighting abilities.
     He sighed. Ugh, this was seriously sucking. Glancing up across
the room, he said the first words either he or Stuffy had said in
over an hour. "Can we go after her yet?"
     Stuffy looked up, then glanced at the clock on the wall and
shook his head, taking off his glasses for a moment and using a
tissue to clean them. "I, I think it would be-- be prudent to wait
a bit longer."
     Pike snorted. Prudent. Trust some stuffy British Watcher Guy
to come up with something like _prudent_ when the life of the most
amazing girl in the world might be in jeopardy, and he could go in
and they could have that whole mutual-saving-of-asses thing going
again, which would lead to what had come after the mutual-saving-
of-asses last time, and which would mean he could just have a
really _nice_ trip to Phoenix instead of one that sucked horse
shit.
     *Whoa, Pikey boy, slow the hell _down_, wouldja?* He scolded
himself inwardly, giving no outward sign of the ideas that had
begun running through his head about the same time that he'd had
the thoughts about asses and Buffy within the same sentence.
Distractions, big no-no, especially at a time like this.
     He pushed away from where he'd been leaning against the wall,
moving to start pacing, 'cause sometimes pacing calmed him down
when he was in a severe state of whatever the opposite of calm was,
but he only made it about halfway across the room when Stuffy
looked up again and spoke.
     "If I might ask," Giles asked, and Pike could see whether he
gave permission or not, the question would see the light of day, so
he kept his mouth shut. "Which of Merrick's books did you read?"
     Alright, Pike thought, that was an easy enough question to
answer. "All of 'em," he said with a nonchalant shrug, taking more
than just an iota of satisfaction from the way Stuffy's expression
shifted. *Ah-hah,* he thought, so that explained that one, 'cause
it was obvious that Buffy's opinion of him was shared by this guy,
which wasn't altogether a good thing because he hated when he
started thinking about himself the way he knew Buffy did, but hey,
he was cool and he could deal. Just because she was gonna go all
snotty on him didn't mean he had to worry about it at all, and he
wasn't going to.
     "I...see."
     "What, you're surprised?"
     "Actually," the Watcher admitted, "Yes, I am."
     Pike felt the "defensive" mechanism in his mind fire, and gave
Stuffy a glare. "Yeah, well," he said, "I dunno where you and Buffy
get off being so stuck up about the whole thing. That stuff's not
that hard to understand."
     "It's not that," Giles said, his voice staying quiet.
     "It's not?" Pike frowned. If that wasn't it, then what was?
     "Books of that nature are...rarely left where it might be
possible for someone not in the organization to find them," Giles
replied.
     "Yeah, I know," Pike said. "I read them, remember?"
     The librarian-slash-Watcher shrugged, standing, leaving his
own book behind on the table as he walked across the room to meet
Pike on the open floor. "I was merely, merely suggesting," he said,
stammering in that nervous way he had that had been grating on
Pike's nerves the entire evening, "that you may want to consider
the possibility that you may be fated to, to become, eventually, a
Watcher."
     Pike felt the chuckle, laced with bitterness and a pinch of
anger, bubble up inside him a moment before it burst out and he
laughed in the Watcher's face. "Yeah," he said, when he managed to
get himself scaled back down to just a grin that said "what_ever_"
in the most Valley of ways. Hey, he might not have grown up as one
of them, but he could put on the affectations as well as any other
Gen-Xer. "Right. Me, one of you stuffy jerks who run around
convinced you're gonna save the world by ruining the lives of
teenage girls, one at a time."
     "Excuse me?"
     Pike looked at the Watcher for a moment before it hit him--
he'd actually spoken his personal feelings about what he knew of
the Watcher Network and its mission, aloud, to one of the Watchers
themselves. Not even just _a_ Watcher, no, he'd gone and said it to
_the_ Watcher, the Slayer's Watcher, the one who was supposedly one
of the most important and powerful Watchers in the organization.
     Fuck, he decided, not like it mattered. And so long as he'd
stuck his foot in his mouth once, why not go for swallowing the
entire leg?
     "Wouldn't want any part of it," he told Giles, not bothering
to try to keep the tone of distaste out of his voice. "I mean, you
guys-- look what your side is doing to Buffy. Trying to kill her."
He shook his head. "Thanks, I'll do without."
     The Watcher looked at him for a moment before clearing his
throat and speaking again. "Some of the, the best Watchers in
history have been-- they were what you'd term rogues, I suppose, in
that they, they felt it was unnecessary to follow procedure, to
play by the rules of the Network, so to speak--"
     "Like Merrick," Pike broke in. "He was good. Stretching the
rules. He didn't give a shit about them, he just wanted to see
stuff get done." He shook his head. "Man, you know, he knew his
shit so well he hadn't even taken half of his stuff outta boxes
when I found it." He looked at Giles, and let a faint glimmer of
disapproval into his expression. "Better to know your stuff like
that, inside and out, and not have to be constantly reading, 'cause
you never know when you might need to know something and have no
way to get to your books. You know what I mean?"
     The silence hung heavy in the air for a few seconds after Pike
finished, and he took that as a good sign, 'cause it meant Stuffy
was too thrown off to return the remarks immediately.
     The Watcher looked at him for a moment before clearing his
throat uncomfortably-- Pike took a certain amount of pride in the
fact that he'd been able to discomfit one of these guys-- and
managing a slight, polite smile. "You must care deeply for your
duty to her, then, if you feel so, ah, so strongly."
     Pike raised an eyebrow. "'Scuse me?" he asked, then shook his
head. "Nah, this isn't duty. It's friendship." His eyes narrowed
slightly. "You know, that thing you feel toward people you care
about, who care about you, where you'd do stuff for other people
because you want to know they'll be safe and you don't like the
idea of living your life like a selfish bastard who doesn't care
about it when the girl he's supposed to be watching gets herself
killed." Once again, he realized a second too late, he was probably
overstepping some serious boundaries here. Not like he cared, he
just thought it was kind of a shame that they had to be there when
they were so _easy_ to break.
     The Watcher didn't look too upset, though. No, Pike thought,
a moment before the older man spoke...the way he was looking at
Pike was quite a bit more like a self-satisfied expression. Inner
frown, Pike told himself, a few seconds before Stuffy spoke.
     "Odd," the Watcher said, "to hear that coming from one who has
already taken such an...active role...in fulfilling his own
destiny."
     Pike raised an eyebrow. "'Scuse me?" he asked.
     The Watcher shook his head, returning his attention to his
books. "No, nothing you would be interested in," he said, in the
same tone Pike had heard used on street drug deals, when the dealer
had something he knew the addict wanted, but the addict had just
royally pissed him off.
     Pike sighed. In this case, and any that included Buffy, he was
so far past "addict" that the term itself was a complete and utter
joke. "Look," he said, letting himself walk, slowly, across the
room to where Giles had returned to his big, important, musty
books. "I didn't mean anything by it."
     "No, no, quite alright," the Watcher said, his eyes not
leaving the page.
     Pike glanced downward, but it took only a few seconds for him
to realize that the letters on the page weren't the roman alphabet.
"Come on," he said, in that nagging tone of voice his friends--
when he had them-- told him was the most god-awful way in the world
to talk. "What're you saying about destiny?"
     "Only," the Watcher said in a carefully measured tone, "that
one such as yourself should realize that sometimes, others have no
more choice in their fates than you yourself do."
     Pike frowned and pointed at the book. "Yeah, so what's that
thing got to say about me?"
     "Why would you assume it had anything to do with you at all?"
Giles asked in that stuffy, annoyed tone of voice.
     Pike shrugged. "'Cuz you opened it up and started looking at
it as soon as you told me it was fine. So what's it say about me?"
     The Watcher looked at him for a few long moments, then shook
his head. "I don't know that it would be wise to tell you, at this
point," he said.
     Pike scowled. He knew condescension when he saw it, and this
was definitely it. "No," he said. "I can take it."
     Stuffy shrugged, and glanced down at the stylized writing. "It
says here, if, if I'm interpreting things correctly..." He glanced
up, his expression almost a chilling one. "...'Orphaned and
transplanted, one from her past will come forth and put himself in
her service, a willing slavery forced by circumstance and denial.'"
He glanced at Pike. "And so, it would seem you were...fulfilling
your duty, according to prophesy."
     Pike's eyes narrowed, and he glared at the Watcher. "Aw, fuck
off," he snapped.
     The Watcher gave him a slight, satisfied smile, then turned
back to the books.
     Pike sighed inwardly, angrily. Great. So the jerk dropped a
bombshell like that, not that Pike believed it or anything, and now
they went back to being all quiet and silent again? Wonderful, like
he wasn't already going out of his mind with boredom. Now he could
start worrying about Buffy again, yeah, that would work real well,
lovely. Fun, fun, fun. That, and he got to wonder if he was some
kind of drone to fate's whim. He shot a glare at Giles. Jerk.
     Disgusted, Pike let out a small snort. "Hey," he said across
the room, "can we go yet?"
     The Watcher replied without looking up from his book. "No,"
was his reply.
     Pike sighed, returning his gaze to the floor, forcing his
thoughts away from the stupid book and its stupid prophecy, and
instead to the blonde Slayer who he _wasn't_ out there helping to
defeat the forces of darkness.

~

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