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buffyfic-digest        Wednesday, July 29 1998        Volume 02 : Number 281



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (2/?)
       BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (3/?)

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: Wed, 29 Jul 1998 11:37:32 PDT
From: "Cutter Kinseeker" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (2/?)

TITLE: "Xander's Incredible Journey"
AUTHOR: Cutter Kinseeker
E-MAIL: [e-mail]
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the second chapter of my first fanfic. Be gentle!
FEEDBACK: Yes! Yes! Yes! Tell me what you think, but constructive
criticism only please. No "it sucks" type messages.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first.
RATING: Mostly PG-13 for language and adult themes. A couple of parts
will be R.
DESCRIPTION: In the aftermath of "Becoming," Xander sets out after Buffy
and winds up "becoming" in his own right. A council of war is held in
the Sunnydale High library; Xander must face his deepest fears; a
surprise guest makes an appearance.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own jack. Correction--jack's probably the only thing
I do own. The rest belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the Frog
Network.
SPOILERS: Everything up to "Becoming".


S   S
P   P
O   A
I   C
L   E
E
R


Chapter Two
From Humble Beginnings


        Xander's apprehension hung about him as a dark cloud, an almost
physical presence, as he entered the library of Sunnydale High. He
pressed past the swinging doors and tried to make his gait a natural one
as his friends--and Giles--came into view at the large table which
dominated the center of the lower level. Their eyes were upon him as his
mouth curved upward in a smile that didn't touch his eyes.
        "Waiting for me? That's new," he quipped easily enough, being so
used to hiding his feelings that his nervousness just appeared to be his
usual self-consciousness. "So, guys, what's up? Or down, as the case may
be?"
        His dark eyes scanned the table. There, on his left, was Willow,
probably his best friend in the world, her hand tightly gripping that of
her boyfriend, werewolf lead guitarist Oz. On his right, the impeccably
British Rupert Giles, a man whose facial expression and walk made him
seem as though he were continually slightly constipated. The only faces
noticeably absent from the gathering were those of Xander's on-again,
off-again girlfriend Cordelia Chase, and of course Buffy Summers, the
Vampire Slayer.
        Xander's gaze was drawn to Giles as the older man gave a slight
exhalation and rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
        "Xander, as stimulating as your brand of repartee is, I'm afraid
we have more serious things to discuss. I was going to wait until you
and Cordelia arrived before I began so that I wouldn't have to repeat
myself..." He broke off, seeming to notice for the first time that
Xander was alone. "Where is Cordelia, by the way?"
        "Oh, she's got some sort of cheerleading thing going on," Xander
replied. "I'd be there with her--you know, for moral support--" Willow
passed Oz a look that Xander didn't miss but chose not to say anything
about, "--but she gets this whole 'jealous-girlfriend' routine when I
hang around. Either that, or the whole 'embarrassed-girlfriend' routine.
I get them mixed up."
        Giles sighed again. He really didn't need this, not right now,
and Xander's flippancy was just making the situation harder on him.
        "Xander, sit down." The tone of command in Giles' voice brooked
no room for argument, and the look in his eyes silenced the wisecrack in
Xander's throat before it could break free. He placed himself at the
opposite end of the table from Giles and tried to look dejected. Willow
glanced sympathetically at her friend and smiled before she turned to
Giles to ask him the question that had been on her mind for almost
fifteen minutes.
        "Okay, Giles, why are we here?" Now this one Xander couldn't
pass up.
        "Well, Willow," Xander started in, "you see, people have been
asking that question since the beginning of time. Why are we here? What
is our purpose in life? Are there any reasons at all? The simple version
of the answer goes like this: When a boy and a girl like each other a
lot, they want to express that affection..."
        Giles' face was turning a bright and interesting shade of red,
and it looked as though he were about to suffer an attack of something
or other. Willow and Oz were trying to suppress giggles and not doing a
terribly good job at it. Xander's devil-may-care grin grew as he watched
Giles' reaction. Any joke he could use to annoy the G-Man, he knew, was
a truly successful one. His dark mood had started to lift; maybe today
wouldn't be so bad after all.
        Finally, Giles decided that he had had enough. He brought down
his palm on the hardwood table as hard as he could, which was quite hard
considering that he spent most of his time either lifting stacks of
books or sparring with a Slayer. The resultant loud crack made Willow
jump slightly, Oz move instantly to comfort her, and Xander to close his
mouth with an audible click as his teeth met.
        "I have had more than my fill of your foolishness for one day!
Now be quiet and listen! This is serious!" Giles' color had begun to
return to normal but his breathing was harsh and ragged as one who had
been performing a heavy aerobic regimen. Xander was silent now, both
from acute shame and from the knowledge that Giles never lost his cool
like this unless it *was* serious.
        "Sorry, Giles," Xander said, real hurt and surprise in his voice
now. "What's going on?" Xander's face was a mass of contradictions; he
knew precisely what was going on, why they were all here today, but he
kept telling himself that he was being paranoid, kept hoping against
hope that he was wrong.
        Giles cleared his throat and began.
        "Buffy still has not returned to school, nor has she contacted
me--nor, I assume, any of you." He paused to look at the assembled
youths as they gravely shook their heads. "I spoke to Principal Snyder
today, asking when Buffy was expected to return. According to him, she
is not."
        "What?" asked Willow, more than a bit shocked and worried.
        "The principal informed me that he personally expelled Buffy the
night of Angelus's attack. He found her here, in the library, looking
around, called the police, and then simply expelled her." Giles face was
a mask of indifference as he spoke, his crisp British accent striving to
report the facts without emotion and only just succeeding.
        "But that means..." began Willow.
        "That she knew she wouldn't be coming back to school? Yes,
indeed," Giles finished for her. "Why she would keep this vital fact
from us, I don't know, but I have my suspicions. Possibly, she had
already planned leaving Sunnydale after she, um, finished Angelus. More
likely, she did not wish to burden us with her own problems, which I can
suppose were weighing heavily upon her."
        "Wait, wait, wait," interrupted Xander. "Leave Sunnydale? What
are you talking about, G-Man? She's the Slayer, remember? She can't
leave Sunnydale. Can she?"
        "Well, um, the- the force which empowers the Slayers may have
decided that her tenure in Sunnydale was at an end with the
destruction--or reform--of Angelus and permitted her to leave. Or,
possibly, Buffy is no longer the Slayer and she is no longer required to
fight the forces of darkness. There are records of Slayers retiring
after dealing with one last major threat, rather than dying in battle.
With her responsibility over, she could have decided that it was time to
start over someplace else."
        "Aren't we just grasping at straws here?" interrupted Oz's cool,
slow voice. "I mean, how do we even know that she's gone anywhere? She
could still be here in town, recovering from the fight. Isn't that what
you said the other day? That she and Angel are someplace quiet, getting,
uh... reacquainted?"
        Giles nodded. "That was the original theory. Now, however, I
know differently. Since Willow was released from the hospital, I've been
doing some digging, and what I've found does not inspire me to be
hopeful. In addition, my own injuries and general state of confusion
slowed the search and made me leave one important source until last:
Mrs. Summers."
        "Buffy's mom," said Xander by way of stating the obvious. "Cool.
If anyone can clear this up, she can."
        "Actually, no. Mrs. Summers was somewhat less than helpful."
Giles frowned in memory of the confrontation between himself and the
distraught Joyce Summers. "She was, in fact, rather close to hysteria.
Apparently, Buffy revealed her secret identity to her mother, and they
had some sort of argument. The details I managed to glean from her were
sketchy at best, but from what I did get, Joyce... threw Buffy out of
the house."
        "What?" asked Willow and Xander at the same time, startling
Giles out of his "lecture mode." They both began to babble incoherently
at the same time, leaving Oz in confusion and Giles at the focus of the
cacophony. Even through the din, it was obvious that both were
concerned, though Willow's tone was closer to panicky worry and Xander's
was closer to moral outrage.
        The group fell into a shocked silence as the library doors
opened noisily, as though someone who had been listening to them had
decided to make a dramatic entrance.
        "Well, well, well," said the stranger, a small, oily-looking man
dressed all in black as he removed his sunglasses and hat, "the infamous
Slayerettes. So we meet at last. Too bad it's gotta be under these
circumstances. I had hoped to sit down with a cappuccino or a foot-long
and talk to you, but they don't allow them in here." He looked over at
the English librarian and smiled crookedly. "Sorry 'bout the stuff I
snitched from your fridge, Rupe, but a demon's gotta eat."
        At the word "demon" the gathered group reacted. Giles instantly
headed for the weapons case in his office, while both Oz and Xander
moved to place themselves between the man(?) in the rumpled fedora and
their still-injured friend. Xander in particular cut a
less-than-imposing figure with his jittery look and his good arm still
in a cast.
        "Oh, stop it," reprimanded the stranger. "For one, none of you
can do squat against me--I'm kind of immortal--and for another, I'm here
to help you, so just sit down and calm down."
        His words had a reassuring effect on the friends, and Xander and
Oz both visibly lowered their guard, Xander somewhat slower than the
good-natured werewolf. Willow's tremors subsided gradually, and Giles
made his way back to the table, though he kept hold of the bottle of
holy water he had managed to grab.
        "Who the devil are you?" asked Giles cautiously.
        "Nice choice of words, G-Man," interjected Xander nervously.
        The stranger smiled. "That's why I like you, kid, a quip for
every occasion." The man's dark eyes bored into Xander. *He knows*,
Xander thought to himself in a panic, *he knows everything*. If
anything, the stranger's smile became larger, more amused, as though the
world were a joke and he were the only one to understand the punchline.
        "As for who I am... you can call me The Whistler."


END CHAPTER TWO


Cutter Kinseeker
- -Chieftain of the Wolfriders
- -Holder of New Moon, artifact sword
- -Slayer of the dreaded beast Madcoil
- -Keeper of Xander Harris' half-kept promise, "You're gonna die. And I'm
gonna be there."

"AYOOOOOOOOAAAAAAHHH!!!!"
          --Cutter Kinseeker

"From famine to feast and back to famine again."
          --Skywise

Visit the Holt of Cutter Kinseeker
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Chamber/2234/


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

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

Date: Wed, 29 Jul 1998 11:40:12 PDT
From: "Cutter Kinseeker" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (3/?)

TITLE: "Xander's Incredible Journey"
AUTHOR: Cutter Kinseeker
E-MAIL: [e-mail]
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the third chapter of my first fanfic. Please
don't hurt me.
FEEDBACK: Yes! Yes! Yes! Tell me what you think, but constructive
criticism only please. No "it sucks" type messages.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first.
RATING: Mostly PG-13 for language and adult themes. A couple of parts
will be R.
DESCRIPTION: In the aftermath of "Becoming," Xander sets out after Buffy
and winds up "becoming" in his own right. The Whistler tells the gang a
bunch of stuff that may or may not be true; Xander reaches a decision;
Cordelia finally shows up.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own jack. Correction--jack's probably the only thing
I do own. The rest belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the Frog
Network.
SPOILERS: Everything up to "Becoming".


S   S
P   P
O   A
I   C
L   E
E
R


Chapter Three
Whistling at the Darkness


        "All right, I've accepted that you know stuff," Xander said
sourly, "now how 'bout telling us where Buffy is?" The Whistler smiled
that annoying, enigmatic smile again.
        "No can do, kid," he said nicely enough.
        "Why the Hell not?" Xander shouted, finally losing his temper
with this fedora-wearing freak.
        "'Cause..." whispered Whistler, "there's a rule... Look, I know
you mortal types take this kind of thing real serious, but I gotta let
you know that the folks I work for don't. As far as they're concerned,
this world, all of you, you're just pieces on a board."
        "You think this is a game?" questioned Giles in stunned
contempt. The small man/demon shook his head slowly.
        "Not me, Rupe, never me." He sighed heavily. "Believe me, if it
was up to me, I'd give you directions, a map, and cab fare, but it
ain't. I'm a cog, a piece in the game, just like all of you. Maybe a
little higher up on the scale--a bishop instead of a pawn--but just
another piece. I've been playing this damn game for longer than your
species has been alive, and frankly I'm getting a little tired of it.
Unfortunately, my profession isn't one that you can just retire
from--kinda like the mob, only worse."
        "What is this game you keep talking about?" asked Giles,
genuinely interested now in spite of himself, his Watcher instincts
moving him into a phase somewhere between curiosity and interrogation.
        "Why, THE game, of course. Good and evil. Life and death. All of
that and more. The creeps you call demons are the opposition. Vampires
make up most of their forces on this world, but there's some biggy
demons too, like Moloch--you remember him?--and Azazel and, of course,
Acathla."
        "But you're a demon," interjected Willow, "you said so."
        "Technically, I'm a demon. I kinda like the title too--it makes
people a little nervous around you--but right now I'm playing for the
side you'd call good." His brow scrunched in concentration, as though
trying to think of a simple way to express what he was thinking. "Okay,
look at it this way: I'm a free agent in this game. I can play for
either side, depending on which I choose and for how long. Most always,
I pick good, simply 'cause I happen to like humans." A strange look
crossed the Whistler's face for a moment, only to quickly disappear.
        "The problem with good in this game is that it isn't always
good. There's other factors involved that make it a bunch more
complicated that 'good' and 'evil', though that's the easiest way to
think about it. Currently--that means for the last five or ten thousand
years--my bosses have been in an extended holding maneuver against the
opposition, trying to keep them from gaining ground in the multiverse."
        "Huh?" said Xander, erudite as ever.
        "The *multi*verse. All the universes--this one, and all the
parallels, and all the possibilities, and all the
worlds-as-myth--everything. For the last few thousand years, the game
hasn't been moving on its usual grand scale, but on a micro-level,
dealing with a world or two at a time. And in the last three millennia,
the playing field has dwindled to one world: this one.
        "See, real recent like, my bosses and the bosses of the
opposition got together and decided that trashing entire dimensions
wasn't fun anymore. A 'scorched-earth' campaign just wasn't efficient as
it used to be, and they were too evenly matched to really hurt each
other much. So in this big diplomatic conference--a good way to think of
it would be 'the Treaty of Midpoint'--they decided to choose one world
at the heart of the battlefield and duke it out one last time. They sent
in their troops, sealed off the planet from outside interference, and
started planning for the end.
        "Only problem was, evil cheated.
        "They threw in a couple of wild cards--vampires for one--and
just started laughing their asses off at good. After all, it's the
nature of evil to cheat, and good can't or they'd be just as bad, and
the game would fall apart. The referees went back and checked the
treaty, which in and of itself took one Hell of a long time, and found a
loophole that good could use to stem the tide and even things out again.
Most of the evil in the world got dumped down a big hole and locked
in--humans took to calling it Hell. The rest would still have been
enough to win, but good had one more card to play..."
        Xander and Giles could both see where Whistler was headed with
this line of history, and Willow wasn't far behind.
        "Are you telling us," said the Englishman, "that *you* are what
empowers the Slayers?"
        "Not me, Rupe, my bosses. They needed to beat the asses off evil
once and for all, and to do it they built a better human. Strong as the
supernaturals she fought, fast enough to keep up with them, tough enough
not to die from one punch, and resilient enough to accept the hazards of
her life and keep going. Better still, make a bunch of 'em. Sad to say,
evil called in their lawyers and exploited yet another loophole--only
one per generation--and the rest is history." The little man looked
extremely smug about all of this, as though it was by his hand that it
had all happened. Giles sighed; this day just kept getting worse.
        "Assuming we believe any of this," he said, "then I have just
three questions."
        "Fire away, Rupe."
        "First, how do you know all of this?"
        "Like I said, I work for these guys. And while I'm just a
playing piece to them, I'm a fairly well-informed playing piece.
Besides, who do you think figured out the loophole for good?" Disturbed
now, Giles nonetheless went on.
        "You said that the, um, game has moved to just our world. Why?"
        "Weren't you listening? In the way the high-ups measure space
and time, your place was just about at the dead center of the battle.
'Cause that one was so easy, I'll give you a freebie."
        "All right: Why are the Slayers female? From a biological
viewpoint, I should think that a male would be more appropriate for
combat against demons. Simply due to hormones and musculature, male
humans are more suited for physical violence than females."
        "That is so sexist," said a slightly miffed Willow.
        "Yeah," echoed Oz, "I happen to believe that Willow could kick
my ass if she wanted to." He paused for a minute. "That didn't sound
right."
        Whistler merely shook his head in amusement. "Yeah, for hormones
and bad attitudes, men take the cake, but women... I'm immortal, and I
wouldn't want to piss off even a normal one. Women are psychologically
more adaptable, their emotions are stronger, their spirits are harder to
break, and in general they're more interesting than men. Admittedly,
under normal circumstances, women don't fight as much as men, but when
they do, they're more deadly." He looked pointedly at Giles. "One of you
Brits said it better than anyone: 'The female of the species...'" He
shrugged. "You know the rest. Not bad for a freebie question. Last, but
I hope not least?"
        Giles cleared his throat. "You've already said that you can't
tell us where Buffy is. I've gathered from your history lesson that you
can't directly interfere in mortal affairs unless you are ordered to do
so. So... why are you here, now, talking to us?"
        "I wondered when you'd get to that." He lapsed into
uncomfortable silence for a few moments, obviously trying to figure out
how to say what he needed to. Finally, he spoke. "My bosses aren't
all-powerful or all-knowing. They can make mistakes, just like anybody
else, 'cept they don't screw up as often, and when they do, they screw
up big-time. I can make mistakes too. See, most times, I'm on my own,
following a general set of instructions until I get new ones.
        "Not long ago, by your standards, I'd gone recruiting for
someone I could use for the side of good without evil hearing about it.
It had to be someone completely hopeless, with no purpose in living.
Turns out, the guy I got wasn't living at all."
        "Angel," muttered Xander darkly.
        "Yup, Angel. He was a mess when I found him. I cleaned him up,
got him moving, gave him a purpose--Buffy--and I sorta set it up where
he'd fall in love with that purpose."
        Xander's face was stony, his eyes hard, as he listened. He was
shaking slightly in barely-held rage and anyone could see that he was
going to go off any minute.
        "He followed her here, and I kept him supplied with information.
Buffy is probably the best Slayer anyone's ever seen, and she's been
turning the tide for good in a major way. Without Angel, she'd probably
never have gotten as far as she did. Then evil pulled a hand I seriously
hadn't expected: Spike, Drusilla, and Jenny Calendar." He motioned for
Giles to be silent when he saw the other's eyes flare up in anger. "Ease
back, Rupe, she didn't realize. But because of her actions, Angel lost
his soul and went over to the other side. Unfortunately, I was out of
town at the time and didn't get back until Acathla was uncovered.
        "My talent, the one that makes me so coveted by good and evil
alike, is to read the future. Not absolutely predict--the future's
mutable and fluid--but to give probabilities based on incomplete
information that are almost always accurate. I knew that Angel would be
there when Acathla got dug up, but I thought he would be fighting the
demon, not helping free him. I checked my probabilities again, and I
figured that if I didn't move fast, the whole world would go to Hell and
evil would win by default. I did what I thought was best: I pitted Buffy
and Angel against each other, knowing that Buffy would win and Angel
would go to Hell in the world's place. Basically a stop-gap maneuver.
        "But, because I hadn't known about Angel being evil for the last
couple of months, I didn't accurately predict how badly Buffy would take
it, I didn't figure that she'd skip town, and I *really* didn't figure
that my bosses would schedule me in for an evaluation at the next
equinox." Xander's fragile control finally broke with this last
statement.
        "You mean this whole thing's been about you getting in trouble
with your boss?! You don't give one single damn about Buffy, do you?! Or
about this town, or this planet, or anything but your own worthless
hide! Well, get this--fuck you! Huh? Fuck... you! How 'bout that? Go
back to Hell, or wherever you came from, and just leave us alone!" With
some of the poison expelled from his system, Xander clenched his jaw
tight and walked over to the other side of the library. He punched the
wall as hard as he could with his unbroken arm, and immediately pulled
back his hand in pain, sucking away the blood from his torn knuckles.
        Whistler seemed somewhat abashed by this outburst.
        "You're right, kid. I am selfish, and I am a coward, and I am a
lot of other unsavory things too, but I'm also desperate. I can't
interfere directly, so I can't go get Buffy myself. But if she ain't
back in SunnyHell by the end of the summer, my ass is grass. The bosses
happen to like her, and from what I've picked up along the grapevine,
she's real important to the war effort too. If they find out that it's
my fault that she packed up and left--and it isn't really my fault, mind
you, but my bosses ain't real forgiving about this sort of thing--then
free agent or not, immortal or not, I am seriously going to regret the
last century of my life.
        "Which finally brings me to why I'm here. Someone's gotta go get
her, and that's all there is to it."
        "Then tell us where she is..." started Giles.
        "I can't! I would if I could, but I can't! That would be
interference, and that would piss my bosses off too. What I'm doing
right now I can get away with because I haven't technically done
anything to violate the Treaty of Midpoint--I'm pretty damn good at
loopholes--but the second I say anything specific..." His dark eyes
darted around in a manner that would have been funny on anyone else.
"And besides which, I'm not completely sure of where she is myself. Once
she left Sunnydale, my probabilities went right off the charts; she
could be as close as Burbank or as far away as Maine by now. I can point
you the right way, but then I've gotta go; I have stuff to do and things
to take care of before my evaluation committee shows up--picky bastards
that they are. But I need to know right now: will you do it?"
        Willow and Oz were silent, their tightly clutched hands showing
their fear and trepidation. Giles' lips were pursed together so closely
that his mouth appeared only as a bloodless line in a craggy face.
Whistler's eyes were on them intently, almost boring into their skin
with the heat of his anguish. Finally, the silence was broken from a
completely unexpected quarter.
        "I will," said Xander, so quietly that at first the others were
unsure they had heard him at all. "I'll do it. But not for you, and not
for your bosses, and certainly not for your damned game. My reasons are
my own, but I'll go. I'll find Buffy and I'll bring her home."
        Whistler's smile returned slowly, like the sun peeking out from
behind a bank of clouds. His dark eyes cleared and some of the good
humor returned to his face.
        "I thought it would be you, kid. At least, I hoped it would be.
Out of everyone here, you've got the best chance of bringing her back
alive." Xander didn't like the sound of that.
        "So what is my chance?" he asked cautiously.
        "Oh, a little less than fifty-fifty." Seeing the horrified look
on the boy's face, he laughed. "Don't ask me why, I just call 'em." He
paused for a moment as though listening to something far away. "I gotta
go now. Buffy left on a Greyhound bus the night she capped Angel. You
can find out which one without me. I think I'll go out the window. See
ya."
        With that, Whistler walked jauntily to the nearest window, flung
it open, and jumped out, landing easily on the soft earth below. He
dusted himself off and walked away. In the library, they were still
scratching their heads when the double doors swung open to reveal a
miniskirt-clad Cordelia. Everyone turned to look at her with an air of
anti-climax.
        "Did I miss anything?" she asked in her bubbliest voice. When
she was rewarded only with cold stares, her expression soured. "What?"

***

        The being who currently called himself Whistler was experiencing
a characteristic amount of smug self-satisfaction. And why not? Xander
was going to do his dirty work for him. He had managed to enlist the
boy's help without revealing anything important--or anything completely
truthful, for that matter--just by playing on his own existing fears.
Pretty soon the other Slayerettes would be too busy to interfere, the
Hellmouth would make sure of that. Whether or not Buffy was returned,
his bosses would be seriously pleased at his actions. He had managed to
preserve his own fragile moral equilibrium and obey orders at the same
time.
        And, last but not least, he had left before that snobby bitch
Cordelia had shown up.
        All in all, it was a pretty successful day for the
fedora-wearing demon.


END CHAPTER THREE


Cutter Kinseeker
- -Chieftain of the Wolfriders
- -Holder of New Moon, artifact sword
- -Slayer of the dreaded beast Madcoil
- -Keeper of Xander Harris' half-kept promise, "You're gonna die. And I'm
gonna be there."

"AYOOOOOOOOAAAAAAHHH!!!!"
          --Cutter Kinseeker

"From famine to feast and back to famine again."
          --Skywise

Visit the Holt of Cutter Kinseeker
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Chamber/2234/


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

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

End of buffyfic-digest V2 #281
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