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buffyfic-digest        Wednesday, July 1 1998        Volume 02 : Number 254



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: Reflactions 6/7
       BUFFYFIC: (2/?) In Opacitatem Habitant Modo
       BUFFYFIC: "Fallen From Grace" (9/11)
       BUFFYFIC: Existence, (1/1)

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, 30 Jun 1998 21:45:19 EDT
From: <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Reflactions 6/7

Title~ Reflections 6/7
Author~Shani
Timeline~ letÆs say between Go Fish and Becoming I & II--Becomings will not
happen here
Summary~ Angelus becomes Angel, but has some thinking to do before going to
Buffy...if he decides to go to Buffy at all.
Disclaimer~ The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whendon,
Mutant Enemy Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Productions, and 20th
Century Fox.  No infringement intended.  Story for entertainment purposes
only.
Feedback~ YES, YES, YES, YES!!  Please send all comments to [e-mail]
Authors Notes--PLEASE read~ In this piece of the story I have used the
mourners Kaddish.  It is a prayer said for the dead by their loved ones.  The
transliteration (pronunciation) is the exact of the accual hebrew.  The
translation is out of a jewish prayer book called a sidur.


    Xander hated Angel from the beginning.  When Angelus took over and went on a
killing spree, Xander hated him even more.  Now that Angel was back, a human
and with Buffy, Xander Harris hated Angel more than he ever had before.

    Cordelia watched Xander.  Every time he looked at Angel he scowled.  What
Cordy couldnÆt figure out is why.  Did Xander hate Angel because Angel loves
Buffy and Buffy loves him back?  If he hadnÆt hated him before he ôturnedö
then she could understand, but this was stupid.  She was being stupid.  Her
boyfriend was jealous of his best friend and her boyfriend.  What did that say
about her relashionship with Xander?  Cordy put those thoughts aside.  For
now, she had to do her part to prepare.  She wanted to do her part to prepare.

    Buffy was tired, she hadnÆt slept very well last night.  She wondered briefly
about what would happen if her mother found out that she was the slayer.
ôSorry mom, canÆt talk now, IÆve gotta go hunt vampires.ö  Right.  It would be
so much easier if her mother knew.  Maybe after all this golam stuff was over
sheÆd talk to Giles about it.  She went back to the book.  , nt  *ThatÆs* what
is written on the hand?  æK, so t is what needs to be erased...Æ

    Angel watched Buffy.  She had stopped reading for a minute and was staring at
the wall.  He wondered what she was thinking.  What went on in a seventeen
year old slayers mind?  That was a question he would never be able to answer.
He wasnÆt quite sure that he wanted to be able to answer that.

    Willow could not believe that they were going to go through with this.  If it
would save Buffy then it was worth it.  The question was, would it save Buffy?
Willow had almost lost Buffy too many times, she wouldnÆt let this be the last
time they worked on stopping evil together.  Angel wouldnÆt let Buffy die.
Xander wouldnÆt let Buffy die.  Giles wouldnÆt let Buffy die.  And she
wouldnÆt let Buffy die either.  Now that she had worked up some confidence,
she continued her part of the plan.

    Oz was proud of Willow.  She was very brave.  From his observations, none of
the people in the room would handle BuffyÆs death very well.  Hopefully, he
wouldnÆt find out how everyone got along without Buffy for a long, long time.

    ôItÆs time, Buffy.ö  Giles said slowly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Buffy ran alone along the streets of Sunnydale towards the warehouse.  She
hoped that she wasnÆt too late.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    ôAre you ready?ö  Dru asked, getting excited.
    ôSoon.ö  Spike said, an evil grin spread across his face.  ôSoon.ö
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Spike and Dru were not yet ready to bring the golam to life.  It stood
ungaurded as Buffy slipped into the main room of the warehouse.  She snuck up
to the golam and wrote the hebrew letters on itÆs left hand.
    t aleph
]    n  mem
    ,  tuff
    The stone man began to shake, but before it could cause harm, Buffy erased
the letter Aleph.  The golam crumbled to dust.  Buffy was startled by this
response, in result she fell on the pile of dust that was once a golam.  She
hit her head slightly and was getting a headache but she would have to
continue anyway.  Behind her, she heard the sounds of fighting.  The others
would cover her while she performed the prayer for the dead, well, she hoped
they could cover her.
    She looked at the book in front of her for a moment.  At the top of the page
was the hebrew.  In the middle of the page was the transliteration.  At the
bottom of the page was the translation of the hebrew text into english.
     ôYis-ga-dal vÆyis-ka-dash shÆmay ra-ba.  BÆol-ma dee-vÆra hir u-say, vÆyam-
leeh mal-hu-say.  BÆha-yay-hon uv-yo-may-hon, uv-ha-yay dÆhol bays yis-ro-ayl.
Ba-a-go-la u-vizÆman ko-reev, vÆim-ru a-mayn.
    YÆhay shÆmay ra-ba mÆvo-rah, lÆo-lam ul-ol-may al-ma-ya.
    Yis-ba-rah vÆyish-ta-bah, vÆyis-po-ar vÆyis-ro-mam.  VÆyis-na-say vÆyis-ha-
dar, vÆyis-a-leh, vÆyis-ha-lal shÆmay dÆkud-sha bÆrih hu;
    LÆay-lo min kol bir-ho-so vÆshee-ro-so.  Tush-bÆho-sa vÆne-heh-mo-sa, da-a-
mee-ron bÆol-mo.  VÆim-ru o-mayn.
    YÆhay shÆlo-mo ra-ba min shÆma-ya.  VÆha-yeem a-lay-nu vÆal kol yis-ra-ayl
vÆim-ru a-mayn.
    O-se sha-lom bim-ro-mov hu ya-a-se sha-lom o-lay-nu vÆal kol yis-ra-ayl vÆim-
ru o-mayn.ö  Buffy said, completing the hebrew part.  She continued.
    ôMagnified and sanctified be the name of God throughout the world which He
hath created according to His will.  May He establish His kingdom during the
days of your life and during the life of all the house of Israel, speedily,
yea, soon; and say ye, Amen.
    May His great name be blessed for ever and ever.
    Exalted and honored be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, whose glory
transcends, yea, is beyond all praises, hymns and blessings that man can
render unto Him; and say ye, Amen.
    May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life for us and for all Israel;
and say ye, Amen.
    May He who establisheth peace in the heavens, grant peace unto us and unto
all Israel; and say ye, Amen.ö  Buffy finished.
    The pile of dust the had been the golam began to glow.  The glowing light
spread and soon surrounded everything in the room.

    Buffy awoke, finding herself in the warehouse.  She wondered how much time
had gone by.  The light was gone and so was everyone that had been in the
room.  All that remained was a small white flower, lying in the spot that once
belonged to the golam.  She picked up the flower and stood.  Feeling light
headed she slowly made her way out of the warehouse and into the light of the
morning sun.

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

Date: Tue, 30 Jun 1998 20:06:55 -0700
From: [e-mail] (Charity C. T.)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: (2/?) In Opacitatem Habitant Modo

TITLE: In Opacitatem Habitant Modo #2 Giles
AUTHOR: Taygeta
E-MAIL: [e-mail]
FEEDBACK:  Please with a cherry on top!
DISTRIBUTION: Sure, just tell me first.
RATING: PG-13
DESCRIPTION: Buffy is blind, various POVs
DISCLAIMER:  The characters any such reference to Buffy the Vampire
Slayer television series belong to their creator, Joss Whedon, and their
owners, Mutant Enemy productions, Kuzui Productions, Sanddollar
Productions, and 20th Century Fox. In other words, they do not belong to
me.  Copyright infringement not intended.

*****************************

*****************
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

- - Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night

*****************

In Opacitatem Habitant Modo
#2 Giles
By: Taygeta

    She's my responsibility.  She's the slayer, and I, as her
Watcher, am suppose to protect her.  I failed.  I couldn't stop them from
taking her eyes, those vile creatures had locked me away from
everythingàlocked me in a tiny room, dark and dank, with a putrid odor of
blood and rotting flesh that clung to the stale air.

    There were no windows, and the door that trapped me into the
repulsive abode leaked only a tiny stream of light at its base.  That
light was enough to keep my thoughts alignedàto keep my mind intact.
That light alone distinguished the division between the sanctity of the
sane and that of the hell of the mad.

    It is recalling my time spent thereàhours that seemed like days
and weeks on endàdo I question her strengthàdo I wonder if the
determination she displays goes beyond that a slayer gains when they are
chosen.  These questions have always lingered in my mind, but now, more
than ever as I watch her train despite her handicaps.

    How can faith and strength be found when one is locked in a dark
worldàwithout a light to guide them?  I was only in that confounded room
for a few hours with the hope and the knowledge that I would be rescued,
but there is no rescue for her and her eyes.  Yet, she continues to fight
the battle between good and evil, now, with more aggression and will than
did she ever express before.

    The word, revenge, has come to mind a few times.  I know the
feeling of wantàthe desire to overtake that which hurt meàall this I
experienced when I lost Jennyàall this I experienced, again, when I
thought I was going to lose Buffy.  But if this were the case, I fear
more for her than I ever did before.  Revenge is one of the fiercest
forms of animosity, and that ferociousness flickered in eyes as animated,
as they were blind.

    "BuffyàI do believe that's quite enough for today," I interjected
as I noticed that she had been training for the past hour.

    She turned from the punching bag to face the direction of my
voice, "Gilesàthis is not enoughàI'm not ready for anything.  If they
were to attack, I don't even think I'll be able to react."

    Sighing, I approached her, "I know you want to fight themàto end
all of thisàand I do believe that much of that anger is from what they
did to you and what you want to do to them.  Revengeàthat's what you
want, isn't it Buffy?  To fight those bloody demons that did this to
youàto your lifeàto your sight?"

    She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as she was heavily
perspiring, it was difficult to tell whether any tears were left in her
obsolete eyes, but they were there.  Her eyes opened to reveal watered
lashes and her continuous blinking was evident of her efforts to harness
such expressions of grief.  "Giles, as far as I know, I'm never going to
get betteràmy eyes, what *she* did to themàthey're never going to work
ever again.  I can feel themàthey're thereà  I wake up in the morning, to
the darkness I saw at night, and no matter how many days and weeks it has
been since they almost won, I still ask myself, 'Why won't they work?
Why can't I see?'" and as her voice cracked as her restrain gave way and
thus tears spilt on her young, flushed cheeks as she looked up at meàas
if she saw me, "Gilesàw-w-why me?"

    I took the crying childàchildànot slayerànot responsible young
girlàbut a child who had too much on her shoulders that knew too much of
the unknown realmàinto my arms.  No matter the strength she held in her
handsàno matter the power that had been bestowed upon heràshe was truly a
fragile little girl scared with the knowledge of the dark world.  Her
tiny form shook with tears that she had not dare to shed in my presence
until now, and hearing her sobs and seeing only the tiniest fraction of
unbelievable pain, the vows of rancor I had made previously seemed to
falter somehow.  No amount of malevolence on my part would assist Buffy
in her future battle; she did not need me to add to that.  She needed me
to be, Giles, her Watcher, of whom sheà*they*àmade me learn to be.

    They are, indeed, my family, and I'll be damned if I was going to
let anyone mess with my family.


_____________________________________________________________________
You don't need to buy Internet access to use free Internet e-mail.
Get completely free e-mail from Juno at http://www.juno.com
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------------------------------

Date: Wed, 1 Jul 1998 00:18:28 EDT
From: <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Fallen From Grace" (9/11)

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!

~

                              Nine

     "It's been four hours," Pike said, moving toward the library
door. "I'm going to get her."
     From where he was sitting, hunched over his books, Giles shook
his head. "I don't believe that would be in anyone's best
interests," he said stiffly. His initial anger at Pike's insults
had melted away a few hours ago, and now all that was left was a
desire to make the young fool realize just what it was he was
dealing with here. He was suffering from something that seemed to
affect anyone who became involved in affairs such as these-- Giles
himself had been susceptible to it at first. The problem was, of
course, the idea that just because one was fighting for what was
good and just and right, one would necessarily survive every
encounter with evil. It was something that both Willow and Xander
had been quick to overcome, and Buffy had accepted it long before
she had arrived in Sunnydale. Giles had, of course, assumed that
Pike would not think himself the invincible sidekick. It seemed he
had assumed wrong.
     "Yeah, well," Pike snapped, rounding back toward him, "in your
opinion, all that'd be in her best interests would be for us to
stay here and you to read those books and me to slowly lose my
mind!"
     Slowly, ever so slowly, Giles let his eyes drift off the
portion of the Codex he had been looking through for the past few
hours, and fixed a cold glare on the interloper. "And in yours," he
shot back, "the best course of action would be to rush into
Angelus' haven, stakes drawn, ready for some sort of massive heroic
action that would stand a better chance of getting everyone
involved killed than it would of offering any sort of actual
_assistance_!" It wasn't until he finished that Giles realizes how
loud his voice was, and how well it would carry in the school. Even
though it was after hours, that didn't mean the building would be
empty.
     Pike looked at him for a few long seconds, motionless, before
flipping him off and stalking out of the library, leaving the doors
swinging behind him.
     Surprised by the reaction, Giles sat motionless for a few
seconds before realizing it would probably be best for him to
follow the young man and make sure he stayed out of the way during
the fight, if there was a fight, which there would almost
definitely be at some point or another before the night came to a
close.
                                *
     Funny, Buffy let herself think, how far she had come since the
early days of her Slaying career. When Pike had first known her,
she had been scared to death of everything around her. She'd
assumed, in almost every situation, that somebody else would come
and bail her out. Her parents, her friends, her Watcher--
     There was a bitter thought, if ever there were such a thing.
She had assumed Merrick was there to bail her out, always, and when
things had turned out to move in quite another direction, she had
been unprepared. And so he had died.
     She shoved that thought away as she stepped over the threshold
of the mansion Angelus' directions had guided her to. Angelus, she
thought with a mental curse, and his damned games. She had arrived
at his apartment, and on the door she had found the first of a
series of notes-- he was in the mood for a game, the letters said,
and she was the one who was going to play them with him. Clues were
scattered about, and when she got to the end of the line, she would
find a prize.
     It was four in the morning. If this wasn't the end of the
line, Buffy had a good mind to forgo clever chit-chat when she saw
the bastard, and simply rip his wise-ass head off.
     She walked forward into the garden room, the place feeling
eerily inhabited so late at night. She shivered, once, wondering
what would happen if it turned out that Angelus was here, or if the
same were true of Drusilla. Spike, she wasn't worried about. He was
still confined to that wheelchair. She hid a small grin at that
thought, raising a small penlight and moving it around the room,
looking for whatever the next clue-- or whatever unpleasant prize
Angelus might have cooked up.
     When she saw it, she nearly dropped the light. Fighting the
urge to throw up whatever was left of the cafeteria lunch she'd had
earlier in the day, Buffy moved a little closer-- close enough to
make out the tweed suit this...person...had been wearing, and close
enough to get a good, long look at just what it was that one could
find in a human skull if one bashed it in far enough.
     "Sick, ain't it?" came a voice from behind her.
     Turning her back on the corpse, Buffy whirled to see Spike,
watching her. Sitting in his wheelchair, hands on the wheels,
smirking at her. "Disgusting," she snapped. "Where's Angel."
     Spike made a half-snorting sound. "You honestly think I'd just
up an'--" he gave a half-laugh, looking genuinely amused, "--an'
bloomin' _tell_ you?"
     Buffy felt her brow furrow, realizing he had a point. "Well,
I guess that would be asking a lot--"
     "Not really," he said with a shrug, the humor abruptly fading
from his expression. "Th'bloody sonuvabitch went to that club've
yours."
     Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Ex-- excuse me?" she asked. Had
Spike just..._told_ her? Freely?
     The vampire master shrugged. "Kick the bastard's bloody ass,
more's the power to you," he muttered, his arms making a few quick
movements to turn the direction of the chair.
     Buffy stared.
     Oblivious to her, Spike turned his wheelchair and rolled off
down the hallway.
     A few seconds later, deciding it was better to take the help
fate dropped into her lap when she could than to sit there and
wonder what the hell had just happened, Buffy left the body in the
garden and took off in the direction of the Bronze.
                                *
     He fell out of nowhere, knocking Buffy to the pavement and
sending her stake and flashlight skittering across the sidewalk and
into the side of the closest building. Swearing at herself for
being so careless, Buffy immediately started struggling, doing her
best to get out of Angelus' grip.
     He laughed, getting off her and letting her go with a backward
shove, then glowering at her. "You're losing your edge," he said
with a grin. "S'that why they're trying to get rid of you?"
     Buffy's eyes narrowed even as she searched her peripheral
vision for her flashlight and stake. The light had been out, a
decision that had seemed wise at the time she'd made it and was
seeming less so with each passing second.
     Shaking his head, Angel laughed slightly. "Did you like the
present I left for you?"
     The body, she realized, suppressing an inward shudder of
disgust at the state it had been in. "Yeah," she said. "You really
know how to give a girl a warm fuzzy, you know that?"
     He shrugged. "I try," he said with a devious grin, taking a
few more steps away and stopping to pick something up from the
shadows. "What's this..." He straightened, and Buffy felt her heart
sink. "You drop this?" Angelus asked, his voice full of feigned
innocence as he held the stake up. He shook his head. "Not
something you should be playing with, around me. It's just, well,
that kind of thing doesn't give _me_ a 'warm fuzzy', as you put
it." With a sudden flick of the wrist, Angel threw the stake over
his shoulder, back further into the shadows, where it was
completely out of reach.
     She gave him a sardonic look, shaking her head. "If you think
making _you_ feel good appears anywhere on the list of things I
wanna do this week, you're crazy," she snapped.
     With a frown, the vampire took a few steps back toward her.
"Well," he shrugged, "you're doing it anyway." He gave her a
sidelong smile. "Had a great time messing around with that new
friend of yours."
     Suddenly remembering the specific reason she had come out
looking for Angel tonight, Buffy's expression hardened. "Stay the
hell away from Pike," she snapped. "You wanna duke it out with me,
then go through _me_-- the torment-by-proxy thing is getting
seriously stale."
     "I'm wounded," Angel said with mock melodrama, putting his
hand over the place his heart supposedly rested. If, Buffy
reflected, it hadn't been sucked out with everything else human
about him when he had-- when he'd changed. "And here I thought me
and your new boy-toy could shoot the breeze for a while without you
going all possessive-psycho-bitch on me." He grinned. "Maybe I just
wanted to make sure he was good enough for you, lover, you think of
that?"
     With a snort, Buffy caught sight of a pile of crates across
the alley. "You're full of shit," she snapped, glaring at him.
     Angel shrugged. "Eh, it was worth a try." Then he shook his
head. "But you wanna be nasty, we can be nasty." He took a few
steps toward her, and Buffy braced herself for an attack, shifting
her weight so she would be all the more ready to launch herself at
him when he came at her.
     The attack never happened. She wasn't sure of what was going
on, but one second Angel appeared set to attack, and the next he
was doubled over and gasping in pain. Buffy's eyes shifted view to
the person standing behind him, and she felt terror and relief
springing into the equation of her emotions when she saw who was
standing there.
     Holding the flashlight Giles kept in his office, the long-
handled steel job that Xander had often joked would be of more use
as a blunt object with which to fend off football jocks than a
lantern to guide Buffy's way through darkness, was Pike. Staring
down at Angel, glaring, poised to strike again.
     But as she glanced at the vampire, Buffy realized there simply
wasn't time to take Angelus down, not with Pike right here. "Let's
go," she said, crossing to him and grabbing his arm, then moving to
jerk him away.
     "Hold on a sec," Pike said, his tone almost one of confusion.
Then he offered her a slight grin, nodding toward Angelus. "Aren't
we gonna stake this motherfuckin' bastard?"
     Buffy shook her head. "No time. Come on."
     Angel's groans were slowly becoming softer.
     Pike looked at her, then back to the vampire. "One more hit,
then," he said, a few seconds before he turned and smashed the
heavy flashlight down on the small of Angel's back again. Buffy was
surprised at the wince that took her over at the sound of the
impact, when Angel moaned sharply. But some small part of her took
a certain amount of satisfaction at seeing Pike cream the son of a
bitch. Finished with his beating, Pike grinned and turned to her
"Nobody tries to _eat_ me and gets away with it," he quipped, then
he nodded. "Let's beat it, then."
     She nodded, grabbing his arm as they both took off, and hardly
noticed when Pike let the flashlight drop so they could run even
faster.

~

Comments to [e-mail], please!

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

Date: Wed, 01 Jul 1998 07:27:06 PDT
From: "Andrea Newbery" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Existence, (1/1)

Title: Existence
Author: Andrea
e-mail: [e-mail]
disclaimers: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant
Enemy and the WB. The song æFallen from GraceÆ is the property of Blue
Rodeo.
Summary: Angel realizes what he has become after being cursed by the
gypsies.  This is basically an escape from the last chapter of
Repercussions, which is coming very slowly. :)
Feedback: Please...good, bad, whatever.
Thanks: Jenn and Rachel



//The sun won't ever shine
Not like it used to do
And there will be moonlight in the sky
Won't mean a thing to you
Friends and relations say you've changed
They say it's written in your face
Better get used to living like this
Now that you've fallen from grace//

'Please make this a dream.' The words rippled through the pain in
Angel's mind. These memories running through his head couldn't be his,
couldn't be real. He stifled a sob, visions of ugly deaths, deaths he
had caused playing in his mind. He paced around in the darkness of the
cellar the gypsies had locked him in. His hands held his head as he
remembered the words they said to him, the hatred and revulsion in their
eyes. He gripped his head tighter as the memory of a young gypsy girl
dying in his arms rolled through his mind. Gagging at the images he
collapsed on the floor, unable to believe the monster he had become. He
remembered the last day he had seen the sun, the angry words he had
flung at his parents before heading off to the pub. His head swam, so
many deaths, so many deaths he had caused. A sob escaped him as he saw
his mother's face, felt his teeth at her neck. He could feel the blood
coursing down his throat as his mother's life faded, her eyes
disbelieving. He shuddered, remembering the screams of his sisters as
they found his mother's body and the joy with which he killed them.
Rocking back and forth he tried to block the images, tried to convince
himself they weren't real, but he could see his father's eyes to
clearly, the horror and the fear that he looked at his son with. Sobbing
he curled into the dirt, praying for oblivion.

//And you will walk across the floor
As the night becomes day
There will be trouble coming round
Sent down to test your faith
And when the friends you used to wait for
Stop coming round to your place
You better get strong somehow
Now that you've fallen from grace//

He lay silent for hours, the tears stopped by the horror. It was too
much, he couldn't absorb all the terror and destruction he had caused.
He struggled to his feet, a strange sensation beginning in his middle,
wrapping his arms tightly around himself he moved around the room. The
feeling grew stronger, more familiar until he began to moan, realizing
the demon still existed in him, still hungered in him. Pacing
frantically around the room he tried to ignore the feeling, wanting
desperately to subdue the memories of feeding, of the joy he had felt in
the killings. Swallowing the disgust that rose in his throat he
concentrated on overpowering the craving, afraid that if he saw a human
he would be unable to stop himself. He stopped, his mind spinning
wildly at his thoughts, only then realizing that he wasn't human any
more, that he hadn't been human for a very long time.

He stopped his pacing, smelling something outside that tore at his
self-control. He could hear the gypsies talking softly, the thought
flashing through his head for a moment that they may kill him as soon as
he tried to leave. The craving increased, taking away his ability to
think, he heard the growl low in his throat, felt the changes in his
teeth. Reaching up he felt his face, felt the ridges and running his
hand inside his mouth he felt the sharpness there. He fought against the
almost overpowering urge to break through the door, to run out into the
night and kill. He ran his hands over his face again, trying to join his
memories with the feel of his face. He coughed, choking on the memories,
taking deep breaths to calm himself, realizing as he did that he hadn't
been breathing. Memories of his first nights as a vampire overcame him,
memories of Darla as sheÆd taught him the pleasures of killing. He shook
his head, unwilling to remember the joy he had felt while killing,
unable to believe that he had loved it.

 Moving slowly towards the door, the craving leading him, he pulled it
open, surprised at his strength. He walked up the stairs, expecting the
gypsies to attack him any moment, praying that they would. He moved
carefully out into the open air, fearful of what would happen next. He
saw the gypsies hiding in the shadows but he kept moving forward,
terrified he would lose control. He felt the demon raging inside him,
ordering him to feed, to kill, but he ignored it, moving slowly towards
the place he used to call home. Dru, the memory of what he had done to
her tormenting him, he felt the need to rescue her, he couldn't just
abandon her to Spike. Walking hesitatingly down the stairs into their
hideout,  standing in the middle of the room, looking at Spike and Dru
sprawled out on the floor, sated from blood. His stomach turning he
watched them, sickened to think he had once been happy to be with them,
to kill with them. Spinning around silently he left without saying a
word, realizing he would find no comfort in Dru's arms, no pleasure in
Spike's company.


//Better get used to the sorrow
Better get used to the pain
Don't even worry about tomorrow
You know it's only today all over again//

He wandered aimlessly throughout Europe for years. Feeding only on rats
and dead animals, only ever enough to keep himself alive. He wanted to
die, found himself praying endlessly for some release from the guilt at
what he had done. He hadn't seen Spike of Dru since the night he had
been given back his soul. He winced at the thought of the torture he put
Drucilla through, of how he had stolen her sanity.  Walking slowly down
a dark alley, he wondered again why he didn't end it, why he didn't lay
down until the sun came up and ended this torture. Was he afraid of
Hell? He laughed bitterly at the thought, knowing that there was no way
Hell could be any worse than the existence he lived now.

Other vampires avoided him, the legends of the horror he had committed
following him. He was glad they feared him, glad that they left the
towns he was in, left the people in relative safety. He spent his nights
thinking of his crimes, picking out one death to mourn, one life to cry
for. It was the only way he could handle it, the guilt was too strong.
He would kneel in the dirt, head low and let the memories of one death
pour through him while he cried.  He would let the guilt for the death
absorb him until the first signs of the approaching dawn. Then he would
find a place to hide, hopeful every time that he wouldn't make it that
the sun would rise too fast and take him with it. And every morning as
he once again hid he realized why he continued, why he would always
continue. He would suffer for the pain he had caused, the gypsies had a
right to their vengeance and he would not take it from them. He would
give them the satisfaction of seeing him suffer for all eternity.

//Never mind the paper and the pen
They can't help you anymore
Forget about the music
That used to lift up your soul
And when the lover that you lean on
Turns round and shows you a stranger's face
Better get used to living like this
Now that you've fallen from grace
Better get used to living like this
Now that you've fallen from grace//


Running became his life, running from memories, from town after town
that he had left his mark in. So many people dead, so many lives ruined.
The monstrosity that he was astounded him, every new death he remembered
shocked him as much as the memory of the first one had. He searched all
of Europe for a moment of forgetfulness, one second when the horror of
what he was released its grasp on him. He tried everything, the music he
used to lose himself in for hours as a human. The drawing's that used to
consume him, everything he drew now was full of death. He looked around
his room, at the pictures of crimes he committed spread all over the
floor. Laying on the floor among his pictures, feeling unbearable guilt
for these people who didn't even have names in his mind, just memories
of whether or not they fought him.  Feeling the tears of remorse welling
in his eyes again he struggled to his feet, running once more.

He wandered down a deserted street, barely noticing a couple embracing
in the shadows until the way the woman moved prodded at his memory. He
remembered a beautiful blonde haired woman that he had loved and killed
with. He walked closer, feeling a pit of dread forming in his stomach.
The woman was dressed in a kimono, her blond hair pinned up from her
neck. He stared horrified as memories of nights spent taking blood from
that neck coursed through him. She turned slowly, sensing his presence,
her face contorted in the demon's shape. The tears coursing down his
face he stumbled backwards, running from the street, ignoring her voice
calling after him. 'Darla' her name running through his head, he could
remember loving her so clearly, but she was a monster like him, he
couldn't be near her.

He found himself hanging around the waterfront two weeks later while
searching for one of the rats that were so plentiful around the water.
Watching the passengers laughing as they boarded the boat. He stared
wistfully at them from the shadows, his hunger temporarily subdued. He
watched them board with so many hopes for what the journey could bring
them. Glancing back at the land that he had killed so many on he moved
quickly through the shadows, finding an empty cargo box and slipping
into it. Maybe he would be discovered at sea, maybe the sunlight would
find him and kill him, but maybe he would find some peace, some way to
make amends in the New World. Closing his eyes he offered up one more
prayer for the souls of those he had killed as the boat pulled away.
*********



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