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buffyfic-digest      Tuesday, September 22 1998      Volume 02 : Number 330



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (6c/?)
       BUFFYFIC: ADMIN:  List rules

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: Mon, 21 Sep 1998 20:11:11 PDT
From: "Cutter Kinseeker" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (6c/?)

TITLE: "Xander's Incredible Journey"
AUTHOR: Cutter Kinseeker
E-MAIL: [e-mail]
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. Xander and Cordelia track
Buffy's trail to Bakersfield, where they learn a terrible truth and make
a new friend. (This is the final part of a three-part message.)
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 Six
It's a Long, Hard Road Out of [the] Hell[mouth]

[section three]

***

    Xander burst into the second room, his nerves steeled against whatever
might await him. The sight that greeted his eyes was almost
anticlimactic: a spotless room that looked as though a small fight had
taken place, knocking over a lamp and ruffling some sheets, but doing no
real damage. Xander let out his breath in a sigh of gratitude, and thus
wasn't ready when he was attacked.
    The figure blurred out of the closet, streaking toward Xander with an
inhuman speed and precision. He was so startled that he debated between
screaming and dropping his stake, but finally decided on tripping over
his own heels. It was probably his klutzy fall that saved his life,
however, as the creature--nothing that moved that fast could be human,
surely--lashed out with a wicked-looking blade, cutting the air above
the now-prone Xander's head with an audible "whoosh". As it went
off-balance, Xander had a moment to take a breather and evaluate his
opponent. If the glowing eyes, sharp fangs, and general facial ugliness
were any indication, Xander was again facing a vampire, as he had so
often done in the past.
    Xander lashed out with his heels, striking the vamp in the shins, just
below the kneecaps, and sending him reeling back. Xander vaulted to his
feet, gripping the stake tightly in his clenched fist and launched
himself at the fiend with a roar that was more bluster than bravery. As
he struck downward, the vamp rolled out of the way and performed a
martial arts move so smooth and quick that Xander was again on his
back--without the stake, this time--before he realized it had even
moved. Another swift kick sent the stake flying across the room, but in
the moment that the vamp's attention was diverted, Xander pulled the
flask of holy water out of his cast and twisted the cap.
    It wouldn't budge.
    He tried again, but it was still stuck fast. Xander looked up at the
face of his opponent and saw a grin across the creature's face, a grin
that spelled Xander's doom in inch-high letters. *Great, just great*,
Xander thought to himself. *I survive untold numbers of demons,
possession by a hyena, various bug-based monsters, and dating
Cordelia--and all to get done in by a goth-punk refugee with a bowie
knife!*
    As the vampire prepared for the killing blow, a shrill whistle pierced
the room. The creature looked up, annoyed that its enjoyment of the kill
had been interrupted. Xander used the split-second afforded him to tug
the cap off the bottle, which made a popping noise as it released.
    "Hey, long, tall, and ugly!" he shouted to regain the monster's
attention. "Isn't it me you're after? Well, bring it on!" As the vampire
returned its gaze to the prone teenager, Xander flicked his wrist
upwards, sending a jet of lukewarm water out of the bottle's neck like
champagne under pressure. His aim better than he could have ever hoped
for, the stream took the vampire directly in the eyes. The creature
reeled back in agonizing pain, clutching its eyes and dropping the knife
it had held. "Stake!" Xander yelled, hoping that whoever had distracted
the being would know what he was talking about. A thick wooden dowel,
pointed at one end and blunt at the other, dropped into his hand without
a word from his unseen compatriot.
    Xander regained his feet and charged the blinded undead beast, sending
his shoulder into its unbreathing chest, knocking the creature onto its
back. It offered no resistance, being too busy screeching with its pain
to even notice the change in locale. Once it was down, Xander threw
himself at it bodily, leading his not-inconsiderable weight with a sharp
wooden point. Downward he swept, sending the stake into the monster's
heart hard enough to drive it through the chest and out the back, where
it imbedded in the floor. The vampire had one last moment to utter a
demonic scream, its sightless eyes bugging out of its hideous face,
before it and the stake were reduced to mere ash.
    The teenager stood, brushing dust and ash off of his shirt with his
good hand and trying to shake his cast free of the detritus. *Geez*, he
thought in a sort of sick wonder, *that's the first one I've ever taken
care of without Buffy's help--and I still wouldn't have beaten it if it
weren't for...* Then he stopped. Who was it that had distracted the
vampire at that critical moment? He turned back towards the door,
certain he would see Cordelia standing there, looking smug and
self-righteous as usual. But a part of his was also gripping to the
childish, futile hope that it would be Buffy, passing back through town
on her way home, come to pull his fat out of the fire once again.
    His expression of greeting and thanks dropped from his face like a
stone into a pond when he saw that it was neither of them, leaving him
with that fish-out-of-water look he had demonstrated several times
before. Standing there in the doorway, a combination of fear, loathing,
triumph, and bottomless agony warring for possession of her features,
stood Stacy. Xander's heart went out to her instantly, as well as the
sense of helplessness he had long since become accustomed to as a
Slayerette.
    Bruises, almost black in the harsh motel lights, covered almost every
inch of her visible skin, making her look like some hideous patchwork
doll grown to human size. Small cuts and lacerations dominated her arms,
further adding to the "patchwork" appearance; blood from these cuts
dripped off her fingers, spattering gently into the thick carpet like
some coppery, polluted rain. Much of the blood had dried already,
covering her forearms with a brownish-red crust of scales. Where the
bruises stopped, she was pale beneath her tan, obviously suffering from
heavy blood loss and keeping her feet by willpower alone. She staggered
and swayed as she walked toward Xander, and her eyes--burning with a
dull fury--were the only part of her that seemed to be truly alive.
    "That was a vampire," she said in a voice that seemed to come from a
great distance. Xander decided that whatever this girl had gone through
had earned her the right to the truth, not some half-assed lie to cover
his tracks or convince her that it was an hallucination. Her pain
demanded the truth.
    "Yeah, it was," he said in a voice choked with shared anguish. He had
seen too many people die, watched too many friends and almost-friends
fall to these monsters, not to understand at least some of what she must
be going through. "There's a lot of them in the world, but most of them
gather in a few places. The ones that did this must have been rogues or
something, vampires without a master, just wandering from town to town."
Actually, he thought that they had probably been on their way to
Sunnydale, but that was too complicated to go into right now. At the
moment, the priority was getting an ambulance here; the police would
come too, but they were not only out of their league, they were
completely useless in this sort of situation.
    He walked slowly toward her, reaching out with his good arm. As he
moved, he kept telling her that it would be all right, that everything
would be okay. She might have earned the truth about other things, but
he felt that she had also earned the right to hear a few comforting
lies. He didn't think it would be all right at all, but as she collapsed
into his arms--as much from gratitude as blood loss--he decided that
maybe truth was overrated.

***

    When the police arrived, Xander and Cordelia gave them the Snyder-ized
version of events. That is to say, a total lie that sounded like the
truth. To wit, they had met Stacy and her family earlier that day and
were going to get together with them for dinner; by the time they had
arrived, the "massacre" had already taken place. Xander gave a thorough,
but false, description of a culprit, but added that it might be wrong
for two reasons: first, the guy's face was twisted and distorted,
probably by something like PCP; second, Xander had been so terrified
that he wouldn't make a good witness.
    The "gang" had apparently had several more members to it, as judging by
the theft of the Carlsons' aging Winnebago. Stacy would live, though she
required a number of stitches on her arms and a transfusion of
blood--which was sickly ironic. Stacy could not (or would not) give the
police any information about her attackers; she couldn't remember
anything after the lights went out in her parents' room, so she said.
Stacy's parents were the only two dead--both of them dismembered in a
fashion so gruesome that a rookie cop at the scene passed out--but all
three of her younger siblings were missing.
    The police assumed the worst, and most of them had already given up on
the children. A routine patrol would turn up the Winnebago in a week,
maybe two, and inside it would be the bodies of the other three
Carlsons; they had seen it happen all too often before to have any real
hope for them. Of course, they kept quiet about their assumptions and
their fears around Stacy. They asked her a few questions every now and
again, always with sympathetic smiles on their faces, and generally made
sure she was safe and comfortable in a private room at the Bakersfield
hospital.
    The day after the attack, Xander and Cordelia were still in town; the
police had given them leave to go, but they wanted to make sure that
Stacy would recover. The doctors kept assuring them that she would
survive her wounds--which were comparatively minor--but that wasn't how
they meant it. Late that afternoon, they were permitted to enter the
room and speak with her in private.
    "How much do you really remember?" was the first question Xander asked
after the nurse closed the door. Stacy swiveled her slightly dull eyes
to face Xander; they had apparently given her some kind of pain-killer,
and it was slowing her down.
    "Everything," she replied, choking slightly on that single word, a word
that contained a world of pain and anger. "I remember their faces, and
their teeth, and... and... oh, God..." Her voice trailed off into a
barrage of wracking sobs. Cordelia, demonstrating a nurturing instinct
not even Xander had been sure she possessed, rushed forward and held the
shaking girl. After a few minutes, the weeping subsided and Cordelia
released Stacy. Xander looked on, started to speak, stopped, then turned
away from them and finally managed to choke out what he had been
thinking.
    "I'm so sorry, Stacy. I know how hollow and pathetic and cheap that
sounds, but it's true. I'm sorry for what happened to you, and I'm sorry
I couldn't save them. I- I just..." He hung his head in silence, waiting
for her judgment of him.
    "Xander..." she started, and he was surprised to hear a note of
sympathy in that voice. "You couldn't have done anything. They- My
parents were already dead by the time I got there." The tears began to
flow freely across her face again, but she didn't stop talking because
of them. "If you had come with me when I went, you would have been
killed too. I don't know why they didn't kill me too, but I do know they
were going to...
    "When you ran away, I hated you; I thought that you were afraid, and
you were just leaving me there by myself. But you came back, and that's
all that really matters. You didn't have to, but you came back for me...
you came back, and you fought them, and you killed that bastard that
killed my parents. The only thing I regret," she stated in a steel-hard
voice, "is that he isn't here right now, so you could kill him again.
    "You saved me, saved my life, and for that I guess I have to thank
you... But I just keep thinking, 'I should have died too. It isn't fair
that they died, and I'm still alive.' It just keeps going through my
mind that they should have killed me too, so I wouldn't have to hurt
like this..."
    "Stacy," began Xander cautiously, trying to think of what Giles would
say in this sort of situation, "I can only begin to imagine what you're
going through, but I can tell you this: It's not your fault. If anyone's
to blame, it's the monsters that did this, and if I could, I'd destroy
every last one of them--not just for what they've done to you, but what
they've done all through history, to countless people. And the only one
who could take them on wholsesale is... not around right now.
    "I also know something else. It's not what happens to us that defines
us as people, it's how we deal with what happens to us. And I know I
don't know you very well, but I think you're a strong person. You'll
survive this. You'll recover. You won't ever be the same--I won't lie
and say that you will--but you will come out of this stronger, tougher
than before, and eventually you'll return to your normal life."
    "What doesn't kill us, right?" she spat bitterly. "Right now, all I
feel is pain, and that's all I can imagine ever feeling again. You tell
me I'll recover; what if I don't want to recover? What then? What if I
like my pain? It's all I have--all that's left to me."
    "No," Xander said softly, "it's not. What about what was in those
notebooks? You seemed so protective of them when we first met. Surely
there's something in there that's important to you?"
    "My notes..." she whispered, turning her battered face away from the
Slayerettes. "I'm writing... I *was* writing... a novel... I hadn't
really started on it yet, but it was going to be so good, I know it.
Now..."
    "You're still going to write it," Xander told her firmly. "Take your
pain and put it there, where it can't hurt anybody, least of all you.
Pour out all the hate and fear and pain into that novel, and by the time
you're done, maybe it will be great. And more important, it'll help you.
Besides, don't they say that every really good piece of writing comes
from some real emotion, usually a painful one?"
    "Whoever 'they' are," replied Stacy, not so bitterly this time.
    Xander looked carefully at her, seeing the idea take root in her eyes
and pushing out some of the hate. He didn't know if what he had said to
her was good therapy or not, but he did know that when the pain and hate
threatened to take over, a person had to keep busy or the darkness would
eat them alive. For Stacy, it was writing; for another person it might
be pottery, or gambling, or computer programming. For Xander, it was
this little cross-country jaunt to find Buffy.
    He paused a moment. This trip was about more than just recovering the
Slayer; it was about Xander purging himself, emptying all of those
negative emotions. He had originally thought about it on his own, but it
had taken The Whistler's intervention to get him moving. He scrunched
his brow in concentration: the only other person they knew about who had
dealt personally with Whistler before was Angel, and he had been the
small demon's pawn in some sort of cosmic chess match. For the first
time, Xander began to seriously consider his own role in all of this;
namely, was he being manipulated too? Moved about like a piece on a
board, all for the inscrutable whims of the enigmatic Whistler? And if
he was, why? To what end?
    He tabled the questions for the time being and returned his attention
to Stacy.
    "We'll be leaving tomorrow morning," he told her quietly. "I'm sorry we
can't stay longer, but we've already lost a day and we can't afford to
fall any further behind. Until then, though, is there anything we can
do?"
    "Yeah," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly, "there is, in fact. You
said earlier that there was someone that could fight the monsters that
killed my family, take on any of them and win. Who?"
    "Well," said Xander nervously, "that's kind of a long story, but it's
also the reason we have to leave tomorrow..."
    "Well, tell me."
    "Go on, Xander," interjected Cordelia, who both of them had almost
forgotten, "tell her. I'll drive tomorrow, and you can sleep in the car,
so don't worry about how long it takes. You two can start talking; I'll
go get some drinks and a couple of chairs."
    Xander was so stunned at the idea of Cordelia volunteering to do
anything that he was totally speechless for nearly a minute, before
Stacy coughed into her hand, gently reminding him of what he had to do.
He grinned sheepishly at her and shrugged, then stepped to the edge of
the bed and began to speak.
    "It really all began for us almost two years ago, on a warm day in
March, when a girl named Buffy Summers moved to our town, Sunnydale. I
went head over heels for her right away, literally..."

***

A Californian highway; sometime after dawn:

    "Do you think she'll be all right by herself?" asked Cordelia. Xander
repressed a yawn so he could answer her.
    "Well, the doctors said that they'll release her in about a week if
there aren't any complications. The police won't need her unless they
catch a suspect, which they won't, of course."
    "How terrible for her... I can't even think what it must be like for
her. I don't know what I'd do if my parents died like that..." Cordelia
held back a shudder and went on. "Did she say where she's going after
they let her go? Do you think she'll go home?"
    "She told me that she has an aunt and uncle up in Colorado; she tried
to get hold of them, but the message on their machine said that they're
on vacation until the middle of June. She's gonna grab a bus to Denver
and then take a cab the rest of the way to Boulder; that's where they
live. I don't know how she has the money to do all that, but she refused
to let me give her any of ours."
    "You offered her our money? *My* money?" Cordelia asked in false
indignation. Actually, Stacy refused to take money from Xander because
Cordelia had already given her almost five hundred dollars--as a gift,
not a loan. She was secretly glad that Stacy hadn't said anything to
Xander about her act of kindness; it wouldn't be good for her image if
he found out she had done something nice of her own accord.
    "Sorry to have bothered," he said frostily. "Besides, she seemed to be
okay on her own. Said she still had her purse, and her parents gave her
birthday money to her early this year, so she's not hurting as far as
that goes. She mentioned something about staying at the Y-"
    "Speaking of buses," Cordelia said to steer Xander's mind off its
single track, "you haven't told me which bus we're supposed to be
following yet."
    "Well, from Bakersfield, Buffy went to Los Angeles. I guess she was
going to stay with her dad or something, but when Willow called him, he
said he hadn't seen her. I don't know why she kept moving on, but
whatever the reason, she left LA almost immediately. The Greyhound
people don't have good record-keeping, but one of the people at the
ticket desk said they remembered her. We've also got another beaten
mugger for confirmation."
    "Then where are we headed?" Cordelia asked testily.
    "Las Vegas," Xander muttered. She looked at her boyfriend to make sure
she had heard correctly, but his eyes were closed and his breathing slow
and even. He was asleep. She smiled at his unconscious form, then
returned to the task of navigating across the state and towards Nevada.
Cordelia didn't know how he stayed so calm through everything, but she
was glad that someone did. They had only been out a few days, but this
trip had pulled them closer together than ever before. She almost
dreaded the moment when they found Buffy, because then they would have
to go home and everything would go back to how it used to be: Xander
drooling over Buffy, Buffy pining over her fallen Angel, and Cordelia
stuck in the middle of it all. For a moment, she entertained the idea
that maybe they wouldn't find Buffy at all, but restrained the idea;
finding Buffy was more important than just their stupid love triangle...
or was it a love rectangle?
    Cordelia shook her head and returned to the business of driving.
Someday, Xander would have to make a choice between them, but that day
wasn't today. For that she was thankful, since when it came right down
to it, she already knew which of them his choice would be--and she also
knew that it wouldn't be her.
    Xander slept on, oblivious to his girlfriend's deep thoughts. He slept
most of the day, waking up only when Cordelia stopped to find a place
for the night.


END CHAPTER SIX


Cutter Kinseeker
- -Chieftain of the Wolfriders
- -Holder of New Moon, artifact sword
- -Slayer of the dreaded beast Madcoil
- -Keeper of Xander's firm belief that he could take Angelus with the help
of a bunch of orderlies, cops, doctors, and nurses (KBD)
- -Keeper of Xander's derisive sneer at Angelus (KBD)
- -Keeper of Xander's jaunty stake-whittling tune ("School Hard")
- -Keeper of Willow's longing gaze at Xander while he talks about the
unattainable ("Some Assembly Required")
- -Keeper of Giles' masochistic need to spar with Buffy
- -Keeper of Cordelia's divine request for aspirin ("School Hard")
- -Keeper of Buffy's need for a warning label (KBD)

"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: Tue, 22 Sep 1998 10:26:16 -0400 (EDT)
From: sah <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: ADMIN:  List rules

Welcome!  This list is for fiction related to "Buffy The Vampire
Slayer," both the TV series and the movie.  To ensure that we all get
to enjoy as much fiction as possible, please adhere to the following
guidelines, and please save them for future reference.

1. Fiction should have Buffy characters in it and clearly be related
to Buffy.  Crossovers are great, and expected, but general
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2. Discussion of posted fiction is permitted onlist.  Please put
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Discussion that is not related directly to the fiction should go over
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No attached files of <any> kind-- if your mailer makes your fiction
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This ensures that anyone who doesn't like knowing about an episode
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Spoiler warnings are not necessary after the start of the episode's
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5.  This list is absolutely NOT for erotic fiction.  <Nothing> stronger
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If you have a question about something's suitability for posting, feel
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Again, welcome!  If  you have any questions about these rules, please
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 &
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Listowners, Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fiction List
[e-mail]

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

End of buffyfic-digest V2 #330
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