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buffyfic-digest       Tuesday, November 24 1998       Volume 02 : Number 375



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (7a/?)
       BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (7a/?)

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: Tue, 24 Nov 1998 04:41:10 PST
From: "Cutter Kinseeker" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (7a/?)

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 find
themselves at odds in Las Vegas when they run across an old enemy. The
"two mysterious strangers" from Chapter Five(e) are revealed, and they
mess with Xander's mind.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: For those of you who were waiting for the newest
installation of XIJ, I'd like to apologize for taking so long. As you
may notice, this chapter approaches 10,000 words in size! That took a
long time to write, plus the fact that I had writer's block for a couple
of weeks, and the power went down one day and I had to rewrite almost
2000 words of the story. But finally, here it is. Tell me what you
think!
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 Seven
Gambling With Your Life


    As Xander gradually returned to consciousness, he became aware of two
things. First, Cordelia had stopped driving and had apparently pulled
the car off the side of the road in a broad, flat clearing. Second,
though there were no buildings anywhere to be seen, the glow of electric
lights--overhead, in the night sky, and on the dim horizon--was strong,
almost over-bright for the sleep-muddled teenager.
    "Huh?" he started to ask. His half-hearted utterance received no
answer. He opened his eyes further, ignoring the pain that was building
behind his nasal cavity, and cast about the car, visually seeking
evidence of his girlfriend's presence. The car, as far as he could see,
was empty--and there wasn't really that much car to see. He sat up
straighter in the seat as if a little more height could give him a
greater field of vision within the sports car. The pain in his head and
cramped muscles was promptly forgotten, and panic began to sink in to
replace them.
    Xander's breath started to come in shorter bursts, and he forced
himself to calm down and think rationally. He would release his seat
belt, open the door, and get out to look for Cordelia--all very calmly,
of course. Undoubtedly, she had gotten a call from nature--and not on
her cell phone, either--and stopped to answer it. Of course, she would
never wake up Xander to tell him that sort of thing, so she had just
stopped, gone off into the bushes, and-
    Except that was a load of malarkey.
    Even from within the car, with his eyes distorting images like they
were, he could tell that the land for miles around was scrub and stony
flatlands. There wasn't a bush in sight--except for Russian thistle,
tumbleweed to the uninitiated--and even skinny Cordelia couldn't hide
behind one of those. For another thing, Cordelia would sooner burst wide
open from water retention than she would use so much as a mildly dirty
bathroom. More than once on this trip, Xander had been required to drive
miles out of their way in search of an acceptable lavatory. He sincerely
doubted that a girl as picky as Cordelia would ever stoop to hiding
behind bushes off the side of a highway. Finally, ever since this trip
had begun, Xander had noticed Cordy's modesty factor increasing with
every mile they traveled away from Sunnydale; he hadn't given it much
thought, but maybe he should.
    Later. When Cordelia wasn't missing.
    Panic became more difficult to stave off with each passing moment, and
each moment seemed longer than the last. Finally, without knowing quite
how he had done it, Xander stood outside of the car. Not bothering to
close his door, he began to circle the sporty vehicle, looking in every
direction for some trace of Cordelia's passage or presence. She was
nowhere to be seen, not that there was anything much to see in the
middle of this arid wasteland.
    Xander looked over his shoulder, convinced suddenly that there was
motion behind him, that someone--or something--was staring at his back.
There was no one there, but there was something; specifically, a city.
His mouth dropped open and his strained eyes goggled at the immensity of
it. It was the apotheosis of every city he had ever been in, or heard
of, or read about, or seen on television--Paris and Milan and New York
and Toronto and Oz's Emerald City and Atlantis all rolled into one
glittering, glowing mass of steel, glass, and stone. It was both the
most perfect and the most hideous place he had ever seen in his life.
    *This is definitely not Las Vegas*, he thought in a daze. *I don't even
think that this place exists, not in the real world.* He paused--what
was the "real world"? Besides a cheesy, second-rate show on MTV? After
all, he himself regularly fought demons, staked vampires, stalked
cemeteries for the living dead, and shared patrol duties with the
Slayer, the Chosen One of prophecy and legend. What was an impossible
city compared to all of that?
    Pretty darned impressive, regardless of anything else.
    *Well, if that's the only city around, Cordelia has to be there. But
how far is it?* Even as he wondered about the distance, it seemed to
grow less. It wasn't so much that he was getting closer to the city--at
least, he thought that wasn't it--but that the city was getting closer
to him, engulfing him, almost as a human would instinctively swallow a
morsel of food caught on his lip. Xander tried to turn away, to run, but
time seemed to dilate; he knew that he could turn, but that it would
take a lifetime--or several--just to move by even an inch.
    After what could have been a second or an eternity, between one blink
and the next, he was within the city itself. But this city was both the
same and different from the one he had seen in the distance; while many
of the buildings looked the same--or had that same almost-mythic feel to
them--they were ancient and crumbling edifices, rotting and half-fallen.
The light, what there was of it, was subdued and noir-ish, filling every
corner and side-street with shadows which danced upon the walls and
moved--but only when you did not look straight at them. Under scrutiny,
the shadows were still and mocking in their silence; the motion
recommenced whenever Xander glanced away. He found himself darting his
eyes every which way, struggling vainly to stave off paranoia.
    If this was Oz, it was that fabled land after some terrible natural
disaster--and there wasn't a pair of tinted glasses in sight. And if
this was Atlantis, it was an Atlantis that had been sitting at the
bottom of the ocean for untold millennia, only to be cast up dry in the
deserts of Nevada. *Screw Nevada*, thought Xander in a bitter panic, *I
don't even think I'm on Earth anymore!*
    The silence gnawed at his mind and the shadows danced at the edge of
his vision until he felt that he must scream or explode in the silence.
Even as he opened his mouth, a scream did pierce the deafening
silence--but it was not Xander's scream. Xander cocked his head, the
panic rushing out of his body so quickly that he nearly lost his balance
and fell; he listened for the scream to repeat, possibly give him a
bearing on whoever it was, and he was not disappointed. The voice called
out again, and as Xander was about to call back, he realized
something--the voice was calling his name. He listened closely, for this
time, the voice kept repeating its pitiful lament over and over again,
until he finally recognized it. And when he did, he immediately started
running in that direction, not wasting a single breath on a response.
    It was Cordelia, screaming in torment, begging him to save her.
    He ran on for he knew not how long, his breathing growing ever more
ragged and harsh, the sounds of screaming driving him faster and harder
than he had ever pushed himself before. He was almost to his
destination, the screams ringing like an alarm in his ears, when
suddenly they ceased. He looked around, his eyes at last lighting on a
low building that looked vaguely familiar.
    Xander rushed inside and found himself in a large, grotesquely
distorted foyer; the door slammed shut behind him with a bang loud
enough to make him jump a foot in the air. He frowned; this place
continued to feel familiar... Feeling slightly silly as he did so, he
cocked his head to the side so that his ear was almost touching his
shoulder and began opening and closing his eyes one at a time. Finally,
he closed both eyes tightly, straightened up, and opened them so quickly
that he was, in essence, seeing it for the first time.
    And then he knew where he was. He shook his head in denial, his mouth
twisting downward more with each shake; his fists clenched and
unclenched involuntarily and his knees quaked in terror. He was in the
Crawford Street Mansion, the last place he had seen Buffy, the place
where Angelus had kept the demon Acathla before he could perform the
ritual that would send the world to Hell. Somehow, the entire Crawford
Street Mansion had been transported to this alien city, twisted and
pulled like taffy until it was only barely recognizable as its former
self.
    Xander was so stunned when a light came on that he didn't have time to
scream.
    The light was a spotlight, centered on an upper-floor balcony,
specifically on a dark-suited figure standing on that balcony with his
back to Xander. Two more shadowy figures, taller than the central one,
stood on either side; there was something wrong with the way their
silhouettes shifted and squirmed. The dark-suited one turned slowly, but
even before he faced Xander, the teenager knew who his opponent was:
Angel.
    Angel--no, Angelus, he was Angelus now--smiled merrily at Xander, a
smile devoid of warmth or any human emotion, his evil glee written
across his human face. Xander started forward, but Angelus stopped him
with wave of his hand.
    "I give you greetings, White Knight, in the manner of my ancestors," he
began in a stately Irish voice. *When did Angel get an Irish accent?*
Xander wondered crazily. "As a gesture of welcome, I give you a riddle
and a challenge."
    "What?!" Xander demanded, his confusion etched clearly on his features.
"Quit playing games, Angelus! Where's Cordelia?!" Angelus laughed
evilly, breaking the image of the 18th-Century nobleman he had been
pretending to.
    "Okay, Xander, if that's the way you want to play it... I thought I
would be a little polite this time--after all, it's not often I get
guests. Less so, since Buffy killed me."
    "Buffy? Killed?" Xander sputtered uselessly.
    "Not that it matters," he continued unconcernedly. "Demons are eternal;
you might send us away for a while, but you can't ever really kill us.
Hell is a big place, and there's a spot in it for everyone!" He laughed
again, with more mirth in it this time. "Here's a joke for you: A baby
demon asks his father if angels can visit Hell. His father looks at him
and says, 'Son, only angels can go to heaven, but *anyone* can come to
Hell.' Cracks me up every time."
    "You said something about a riddle and a challenge," Xander prodded,
hoping to get some sense out of the twice-dead demon.
    "Oh, yeah." He scratched his head and pointed at Xander. "Riddle me
this, White Knight: What is it that never harms, but kills? That is
hunted by all men, but found by few? That makes the wisest men fools and
the most foolish men wise? That which breaks down all walls and builds
new ones up? Think about it while I give you the challenge." Xander
started to protest, but Angelus' next action shut him up easily.
Snapping his fingers, Angelus turned on another pair of spotlights,
these focused on the figures flanking him.
    On his left was Cordelia; on his right, Buffy. Both hung from the
ceiling by ropes; their mouths were covered with gags, hardly necessary
considering that both were obviously unconscious. They hung not over the
balcony, but over its edges, dangling precariously more than thirty feet
above the hardwood floor. Xander stared at Angelus with barely-checked
fury; if looks could kill, Angelus would have been a cinder at that
moment. As it was, his smile merely expanded, his wicked fangs visible
and glinting under the bright lights as he assumed his game face.
    "And here's the challenge, and herein lies the choice. Which one? In
about ten seconds, I'm gonna cut the ropes and both of these lovely
young women will plummet to their deaths--unless you can catch one
first. Oh, that's right: they'll be falling so fast that you'll only
have time to catch one of them. The other will die a horrible and
ignominious death on the floor below. Not much of a prize for our
runner-up, I admit, but our show has a limited budget.
    "Well, pretty boy?"
    Xander might have said something--a protest, a denial, something--but
in the next instant, Angelus lashed out with his claws, severing both
ropes. Time stopped for Xander, both of them seeming to fall in slow
motion, his arms and legs heavy as lead. Finally, he made his decision,
possibly not even consciously realizing which he was running towards. He
dove forward, catching the limp figure in his arms and using his body to
absorb most of the shock from the blow. From behind him came a sickening
thump and crunch, the sound of a body breaking in a dozen places, each
independently fatal.
    His eyes cloudy with tears, continuing to move only by his indomitable
will, Xander brushed Buffy's hair out of her eyes and looked at her.
Something was wrong. He felt her cheek; it was cold. He touched the side
of her face and her head lolled to the other side like a doll with a
broken neck. As her throat came into view, it was clearly visible that
her carotid artery had been pierced, draining almost every ounce of
blood from her body. Xander shook and began sobbing uncontrollably. They
must have both already been-
    As if reading his mind, Angelus spoke: "Wrong choice, my boy! You
should have thought about it a little more carefully. I mean, come on!
Would I ever let Buffy go alive once I had her in my power? Of course
not! But Cordelia... I have no real interest in her. How you and that
little shrew ever hooked up in the first place, I'll never know; all she
does is whine, whine, whine and scream, scream, scream. It finally got
so bad that I had to knock her out." Xander looked up, the tears making
Angelus almost invisible behind a watery curtain. Answering the question
in those tormented eyes, he replied, "Yep, that's right. Cordy was still
alive. Aw, shucks. But for a consolation prize, we're going to give you
not one, but two--count 'em, two!--corpses of the girls you love most in
the world! And as an added bonus, I'll throw in the third for no extra
charge!"
    A dull, heavy blow landed on the floor behind him, but Xander was
oblivious. His back arched, his sightless eyes stared at the ceiling,
and the only thing that was louder than Angelus' laughter was Xander's
howl of anguish.


Continued in next message...


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, 24 Nov 1998 04:41:02 PST
From: "Cutter Kinseeker" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (7a/?)

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 find
themselves at odds in Las Vegas when they run across an old enemy. The
"two mysterious strangers" from Chapter Five(e) are revealed, and they
mess with Xander's mind.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: For those of you who were waiting for the newest
installation of XIJ, I'd like to apologize for taking so long. As you
may notice, this chapter approaches 10,000 words in size! That took a
long time to write, plus the fact that I had writer's block for a couple
of weeks, and the power went down one day and I had to rewrite almost
2000 words of the story. But finally, here it is. Tell me what you
think!
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 Seven
Gambling With Your Life


    As Xander gradually returned to consciousness, he became aware of two
things. First, Cordelia had stopped driving and had apparently pulled
the car off the side of the road in a broad, flat clearing. Second,
though there were no buildings anywhere to be seen, the glow of electric
lights--overhead, in the night sky, and on the dim horizon--was strong,
almost over-bright for the sleep-muddled teenager.
    "Huh?" he started to ask. His half-hearted utterance received no
answer. He opened his eyes further, ignoring the pain that was building
behind his nasal cavity, and cast about the car, visually seeking
evidence of his girlfriend's presence. The car, as far as he could see,
was empty--and there wasn't really that much car to see. He sat up
straighter in the seat as if a little more height could give him a
greater field of vision within the sports car. The pain in his head and
cramped muscles was promptly forgotten, and panic began to sink in to
replace them.
    Xander's breath started to come in shorter bursts, and he forced
himself to calm down and think rationally. He would release his seat
belt, open the door, and get out to look for Cordelia--all very calmly,
of course. Undoubtedly, she had gotten a call from nature--and not on
her cell phone, either--and stopped to answer it. Of course, she would
never wake up Xander to tell him that sort of thing, so she had just
stopped, gone off into the bushes, and-
    Except that was a load of malarkey.
    Even from within the car, with his eyes distorting images like they
were, he could tell that the land for miles around was scrub and stony
flatlands. There wasn't a bush in sight--except for Russian thistle,
tumbleweed to the uninitiated--and even skinny Cordelia couldn't hide
behind one of those. For another thing, Cordelia would sooner burst wide
open from water retention than she would use so much as a mildly dirty
bathroom. More than once on this trip, Xander had been required to drive
miles out of their way in search of an acceptable lavatory. He sincerely
doubted that a girl as picky as Cordelia would ever stoop to hiding
behind bushes off the side of a highway. Finally, ever since this trip
had begun, Xander had noticed Cordy's modesty factor increasing with
every mile they traveled away from Sunnydale; he hadn't given it much
thought, but maybe he should.
    Later. When Cordelia wasn't missing.
    Panic became more difficult to stave off with each passing moment, and
each moment seemed longer than the last. Finally, without knowing quite
how he had done it, Xander stood outside of the car. Not bothering to
close his door, he began to circle the sporty vehicle, looking in every
direction for some trace of Cordelia's passage or presence. She was
nowhere to be seen, not that there was anything much to see in the
middle of this arid wasteland.
    Xander looked over his shoulder, convinced suddenly that there was
motion behind him, that someone--or something--was staring at his back.
There was no one there, but there was something; specifically, a city.
His mouth dropped open and his strained eyes goggled at the immensity of
it. It was the apotheosis of every city he had ever been in, or heard
of, or read about, or seen on television--Paris and Milan and New York
and Toronto and Oz's Emerald City and Atlantis all rolled into one
glittering, glowing mass of steel, glass, and stone. It was both the
most perfect and the most hideous place he had ever seen in his life.
    *This is definitely not Las Vegas*, he thought in a daze. *I don't even
think that this place exists, not in the real world.* He paused--what
was the "real world"? Besides a cheesy, second-rate show on MTV? After
all, he himself regularly fought demons, staked vampires, stalked
cemeteries for the living dead, and shared patrol duties with the
Slayer, the Chosen One of prophecy and legend. What was an impossible
city compared to all of that?
    Pretty darned impressive, regardless of anything else.
    *Well, if that's the only city around, Cordelia has to be there. But
how far is it?* Even as he wondered about the distance, it seemed to
grow less. It wasn't so much that he was getting closer to the city--at
least, he thought that wasn't it--but that the city was getting closer
to him, engulfing him, almost as a human would instinctively swallow a
morsel of food caught on his lip. Xander tried to turn away, to run, but
time seemed to dilate; he knew that he could turn, but that it would
take a lifetime--or several--just to move by even an inch.
    After what could have been a second or an eternity, between one blink
and the next, he was within the city itself. But this city was both the
same and different from the one he had seen in the distance; while many
of the buildings looked the same--or had that same almost-mythic feel to
them--they were ancient and crumbling edifices, rotting and half-fallen.
The light, what there was of it, was subdued and noir-ish, filling every
corner and side-street with shadows which danced upon the walls and
moved--but only when you did not look straight at them. Under scrutiny,
the shadows were still and mocking in their silence; the motion
recommenced whenever Xander glanced away. He found himself darting his
eyes every which way, struggling vainly to stave off paranoia.
    If this was Oz, it was that fabled land after some terrible natural
disaster--and there wasn't a pair of tinted glasses in sight. And if
this was Atlantis, it was an Atlantis that had been sitting at the
bottom of the ocean for untold millennia, only to be cast up dry in the
deserts of Nevada. *Screw Nevada*, thought Xander in a bitter panic, *I
don't even think I'm on Earth anymore!*
    The silence gnawed at his mind and the shadows danced at the edge of
his vision until he felt that he must scream or explode in the silence.
Even as he opened his mouth, a scream did pierce the deafening
silence--but it was not Xander's scream. Xander cocked his head, the
panic rushing out of his body so quickly that he nearly lost his balance
and fell; he listened for the scream to repeat, possibly give him a
bearing on whoever it was, and he was not disappointed. The voice called
out again, and as Xander was about to call back, he realized
something--the voice was calling his name. He listened closely, for this
time, the voice kept repeating its pitiful lament over and over again,
until he finally recognized it. And when he did, he immediately started
running in that direction, not wasting a single breath on a response.
    It was Cordelia, screaming in torment, begging him to save her.
    He ran on for he knew not how long, his breathing growing ever more
ragged and harsh, the sounds of screaming driving him faster and harder
than he had ever pushed himself before. He was almost to his
destination, the screams ringing like an alarm in his ears, when
suddenly they ceased. He looked around, his eyes at last lighting on a
low building that looked vaguely familiar.
    Xander rushed inside and found himself in a large, grotesquely
distorted foyer; the door slammed shut behind him with a bang loud
enough to make him jump a foot in the air. He frowned; this place
continued to feel familiar... Feeling slightly silly as he did so, he
cocked his head to the side so that his ear was almost touching his
shoulder and began opening and closing his eyes one at a time. Finally,
he closed both eyes tightly, straightened up, and opened them so quickly
that he was, in essence, seeing it for the first time.
    And then he knew where he was. He shook his head in denial, his mouth
twisting downward more with each shake; his fists clenched and
unclenched involuntarily and his knees quaked in terror. He was in the
Crawford Street Mansion, the last place he had seen Buffy, the place
where Angelus had kept the demon Acathla before he could perform the
ritual that would send the world to Hell. Somehow, the entire Crawford
Street Mansion had been transported to this alien city, twisted and
pulled like taffy until it was only barely recognizable as its former
self.
    Xander was so stunned when a light came on that he didn't have time to
scream.
    The light was a spotlight, centered on an upper-floor balcony,
specifically on a dark-suited figure standing on that balcony with his
back to Xander. Two more shadowy figures, taller than the central one,
stood on either side; there was something wrong with the way their
silhouettes shifted and squirmed. The dark-suited one turned slowly, but
even before he faced Xander, the teenager knew who his opponent was:
Angel.
    Angel--no, Angelus, he was Angelus now--smiled merrily at Xander, a
smile devoid of warmth or any human emotion, his evil glee written
across his human face. Xander started forward, but Angelus stopped him
with wave of his hand.
    "I give you greetings, White Knight, in the manner of my ancestors," he
began in a stately Irish voice. *When did Angel get an Irish accent?*
Xander wondered crazily. "As a gesture of welcome, I give you a riddle
and a challenge."
    "What?!" Xander demanded, his confusion etched clearly on his features.
"Quit playing games, Angelus! Where's Cordelia?!" Angelus laughed
evilly, breaking the image of the 18th-Century nobleman he had been
pretending to.
    "Okay, Xander, if that's the way you want to play it... I thought I
would be a little polite this time--after all, it's not often I get
guests. Less so, since Buffy killed me."
    "Buffy? Killed?" Xander sputtered uselessly.
    "Not that it matters," he continued unconcernedly. "Demons are eternal;
you might send us away for a while, but you can't ever really kill us.
Hell is a big place, and there's a spot in it for everyone!" He laughed
again, with more mirth in it this time. "Here's a joke for you: A baby
demon asks his father if angels can visit Hell. His father looks at him
and says, 'Son, only angels can go to heaven, but *anyone* can come to
Hell.' Cracks me up every time."
    "You said something about a riddle and a challenge," Xander prodded,
hoping to get some sense out of the twice-dead demon.
    "Oh, yeah." He scratched his head and pointed at Xander. "Riddle me
this, White Knight: What is it that never harms, but kills? That is
hunted by all men, but found by few? That makes the wisest men fools and
the most foolish men wise? That which breaks down all walls and builds
new ones up? Think about it while I give you the challenge." Xander
started to protest, but Angelus' next action shut him up easily.
Snapping his fingers, Angelus turned on another pair of spotlights,
these focused on the figures flanking him.
    On his left was Cordelia; on his right, Buffy. Both hung from the
ceiling by ropes; their mouths were covered with gags, hardly necessary
considering that both were obviously unconscious. They hung not over the
balcony, but over its edges, dangling precariously more than thirty feet
above the hardwood floor. Xander stared at Angelus with barely-checked
fury; if looks could kill, Angelus would have been a cinder at that
moment. As it was, his smile merely expanded, his wicked fangs visible
and glinting under the bright lights as he assumed his game face.
    "And here's the challenge, and herein lies the choice. Which one? In
about ten seconds, I'm gonna cut the ropes and both of these lovely
young women will plummet to their deaths--unless you can catch one
first. Oh, that's right: they'll be falling so fast that you'll only
have time to catch one of them. The other will die a horrible and
ignominious death on the floor below. Not much of a prize for our
runner-up, I admit, but our show has a limited budget.
    "Well, pretty boy?"
    Xander might have said something--a protest, a denial, something--but
in the next instant, Angelus lashed out with his claws, severing both
ropes. Time stopped for Xander, both of them seeming to fall in slow
motion, his arms and legs heavy as lead. Finally, he made his decision,
possibly not even consciously realizing which he was running towards. He
dove forward, catching the limp figure in his arms and using his body to
absorb most of the shock from the blow. From behind him came a sickening
thump and crunch, the sound of a body breaking in a dozen places, each
independently fatal.
    His eyes cloudy with tears, continuing to move only by his indomitable
will, Xander brushed Buffy's hair out of her eyes and looked at her.
Something was wrong. He felt her cheek; it was cold. He touched the side
of her face and her head lolled to the other side like a doll with a
broken neck. As her throat came into view, it was clearly visible that
her carotid artery had been pierced, draining almost every ounce of
blood from her body. Xander shook and began sobbing uncontrollably. They
must have both already been-
    As if reading his mind, Angelus spoke: "Wrong choice, my boy! You
should have thought about it a little more carefully. I mean, come on!
Would I ever let Buffy go alive once I had her in my power? Of course
not! But Cordelia... I have no real interest in her. How you and that
little shrew ever hooked up in the first place, I'll never know; all she
does is whine, whine, whine and scream, scream, scream. It finally got
so bad that I had to knock her out." Xander looked up, the tears making
Angelus almost invisible behind a watery curtain. Answering the question
in those tormented eyes, he replied, "Yep, that's right. Cordy was still
alive. Aw, shucks. But for a consolation prize, we're going to give you
not one, but two--count 'em, two!--corpses of the girls you love most in
the world! And as an added bonus, I'll throw in the third for no extra
charge!"
    A dull, heavy blow landed on the floor behind him, but Xander was
oblivious. His back arched, his sightless eyes stared at the ceiling,
and the only thing that was louder than Angelus' laughter was Xander's
howl of anguish.


Continued in next message...


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/


______________________________________________________
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