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From: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com (buffyfic-digest)
To: buffyfic-digest@lists.xmission.com
Subject: buffyfic-digest V2 #394
Reply-To: $SENDER
Sender: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com
Errors-To: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com
Precedence: bulk
buffyfic-digest Monday, December 14 1998 Volume 02 : Number 394
In this issue:
BUFFYFIC: My Moira (11/?)
BUFFYFIC: A Dream Is A Wish (1/1)
BUFFYFIC: Torn (6/?)
BUFFYFIC: Snowball's Chance (2/?) by Chase DeKota
BUFFYFIC: Dreams and Reality
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: Sat, 12 Dec 1998 20:14:16 -0800
From: taygeta@juno.com (C. Catherine)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: My Moira (11/?)
TITLE: My Moira #11
AUTHOR: Taygeta
E-MAIL: taygeta@juno.com
FEEDBACK: Very muchly wanted (bad or good...whatever the complaint)
DISTRIBUTION: Sure, just tell me first.
RATING: PG
KEYWORDS: Future. Semi-Buffy/Xander fanfic, but more Future Slayer.
DISCLAIMER: The characters portrayed in this fanfic and 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.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
My Moira #11
By: Taygeta
"Moira's destiny?" Buffy questioned immediately, "What are you talking
about Cordelia?"
"I'm talking about the Briar text," she responded, "It is prophesized
that the slayer of 2020, year being its Moira, will face upon the figure
of Angelus and upon facing that figure, the Fates will decide the
victor."
Giles glanced at her with a frown, "Briar text? I've never heard of such
texts."
"They were recently uncovered by a Watcher in Germany who's sent a copy
of the text to me and we've been translating them. Much of the Text
deals with happenings in the 21st century."
"That still doesn't explain why on earth my daughter is facing Angelus.
Why her?"
"The Watcher in Germany, Gottfried Lessing, made a supposition," Cordelia
began slowly and she looked at Buffy cautiously, "Mind that it's just a
supposition, Buffy."
"Just tell me. I can deal."
She took a deep breath, "Since you were the slayer that set Angelus free
and you're no longer the slayer, Moira may have been activated as a
slayer because of that connection."
"What do you mean? Is she suppose to finish what I couldn't?"
"That's what Lessing supposed," she said, "No one can know for sure."
Buffy contemplated for a second and then looked at Cordelia, "What do you
believe?"
"It doesn't matter what I - "
"What do you believe?" the former slayer interrupted.
The Watcher sighed, "I believe that Moira is a part of you and, now, she
is a part who you used to be, but she's not you. She can never be you.
You, two, are connected, but you both have your own fated path, and
that's what I believe. I believe that destiny - although changeable - is
a distinct road for everyoneàespecially slayers."
Giles coughed and broke *another* of many, awkward silences of that day,
"We best get insideàit's getting rather late."
Buffy nodded in silent agreement and she walked into the house followed
by Xander. Cordelia was about to walk in, but she felt a hand touch her
shoulder and turned to look at Giles.
"Cordelia, I've been meaning to ask you, it is very rare that a slayer
should grow up without a watcher at her side, Buffy was one of those few
exceptions. The Watchers, I'm sure, become more strict to handle the
future slayers, so I find it extremely rare, indeed, that Moira has also
become such an exception."
The Watcher looked at the former Watcher and said, "I was wondering when
you'd key in on to that. I couldn't do it, Giles, I couldn't take her
childhood away like that. I couldn't do it to her, and I couldn't do it
to Buffy and Xander. They all deserved some time away from the chaos
before I had bring them back into the world they thought they had left
for good."
Giles thought silently for a moment and then said, "You did the right
thing Cordelia."
She smiled a thanks and they walked into the house, unaware that a pair
of eyes had been watching them from afar.
"So the slayer and her white knight did go by destiny's book and
betrothed, bearing another slayer named Moira," mused Angelus softly to
himself and chuckled slight, "How appropos that name is.
Moiraàfutureàtheirs, hers, mineà"
___________________________________________________________________
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------------------------------
Date: Mon, 14 Dec 1998 12:55:33 EST
From: DaniLynn27@aol.com
Subject: BUFFYFIC: A Dream Is A Wish (1/1)
TITLE: A Dream Is A Wish
AUTHOR: Danielle Loughlin
E-MAIL: DaniLynn27@aol.com
FEEDBACK: Love some!
SUMMARY: An "I'm bored" fic making the Scooby gang somehow remember the events
of "The Wish"
SPOILERS: The Wish
RATING: PG, mild language
DISCLAIMER: Buffy & Co are Joss & Co's. Not mine. Please don't sue. Some
dialogue taken directly from the episode "The Wish". Those lines are Marti
Noxon's, not mine.
A Dream Is A Wish
Xander punched his pillow, poking a dent for his head. He settled down into
the pillow and yanked the covers up and over him, preparing himself for one of
his favorite all-time activities . . sleeping. He was exhausted, having gone
out to help Buffy on patrol last night and only having a couple hours of sleep
as a result. Within minutes he was sound asleep, heading for dreamland.
*****
Xander stood in the shadows of an eerily empty street. Everything around him
was locked up and secured for the night. There wasn't a sound except for
rustling leaves and the wind blowing. The silence was pierced only by the
sound of tapping heels.
Xander looked around, and saw Cordelia hurrying down the street, looking
around her as if she were afraid someone was following her.
"Cordy!" Xander shouted. She made no sign that she'd heard him. "Cordelia!" he
shouted again. Nothing.
A sound behind him distracted him. He gasped in shock at what his eyes saw. A
guy had stepped out of the shadows. But not just any guy. That guy was him!
What the hell?
"Well, what do you know. Cordelia Chase," the other Xander said.
Xander looked over his alter identity. The face was the same. Pale, but the
same. Although what was with the outfit?
"Is this some kind of sick joke? Harmony told me you were dead!" Cordelia said
to the other Xander.
"Now, why would she say something like that? Let's think," the other Xander
replied, an odd expression on his face.
Xander shook his head. Cordelia and the other Xander were still talking. He
heard footsteps. He looked around.
"Bored now," Willow said, emerging from the shadows of an alley.
Oh. My. God. Xander looked at Willow, absolutely shocked. The leather! The
hair! The makeup!
"This is the part that's less fun," she continued. "When there isn't any
screaming." Willow walked up to the other Xander, leaning in close and running
her fingers over his chest.
Good lord, what the hell was going on here?
"Wh-, what's up with you two and the leather?" Cordelia asked.
My thoughts exactly, Xander thought.
"Play now?" Willow asked Xander with a smile.
"It's not that I don't appreciate your appetite, Will," Xander said. "But I
thought we agreed it was my turn."
"No! No way! I wish us into bizarro land and you two are still together?! I
can't win!" Cordelia shouted in outrage.
Bizarro land. They were in some sort of bizarro land because Cordelia . wished
something?
"Probably not," the other Xander said. And then, to Xander's horror, his alter
image's face morphed into that of a vampire. "But I'll give you a head start."
"I love this part," Willow said.
Xander watched in odd fascination as his twin and Willow shared a brief,
passionate kiss.
"You love all the parts," Xander said.
*****
Xander bolted upright in his bed, breathing hard. Only a dream. Only a dream.
He lay back down slowly, the dream still vividly in his mind. But it had felt
so real. He and presumably Willow were vampires? What a strange thing to
dream.
An odd image came into his mind. In his mind's eye, he could see himself
charge at Buffy. She blocked his punch, then sank a stake directly into his
heart. He contorted in pain, then dissolved into dust.
Xander involuntarily shivered.
*****
In five other locations in Sunnydale, Buffy, Willow, Cordelia, Oz, and Giles
sat uneasily in their respective beds. All bothered by a dream they'd all just
had. A dream of a horrible other reality . . where some of them wouldn't live
to see the dawn.
Cordelia haunted by an image of Xander and Willow murdering her.
Oz shaken by the memory of himself shoving Willow into a wooden railing and
watching her crumble to dust before his eyes.
Giles feeling disappointment over the slayer that was to have been his, and
maybe could have changed the world.
Willow confused by images of herself torturing . . a puppy?
And Buffy, almost feeling the bones cracking as the Master snapped her neck.
But it was only a dream . . . right?
End
------------------------------
Date: Mon, 14 Dec 1998 13:30:46 EST
From: DaniLynn27@aol.com
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Torn (6/?)
TITLE: Torn
AUTHOR: Danielle Loughlin
E-MAIL: DaniLynn27@aol.com
FEEDBACK: Why, thank you, I'd love some!
DISTRIBUTION: my site. Anyone else, please ask. I will say yes, I just like to
know where my work is going.
SUMMARY: Willow is forced to choose between Xander and Oz, but neither Oz nor
Xander are willing to let Willow go
SPOILERS: through Lover's Walk
RATING: PG for this part.
DISCLAIMER: Willow, Oz, Xander, and the rest of Buffy & Co. are not mine. They
belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, etc. I'm just
borrowing them to alleviate my boredom and I'll try to return them with as few
dents as possible.
Just a short part here, I'm having a bit of writer's block lately.
Torn - Part Six
Willow looked around her surroundings and sighed. Locked in the factory.
Again. Spike really needed to come up with new hiding places.
Xander sat on the makeshift bed, while Oz sat at the bottom of the steps. Both
were staring off into space. From her vantage point at the table, she could
watch both of them at once.
She watched as Xander flopped down on the bed, nearly hitting his head on the
brass frame. There was still dried blood on the pillows from the last time
they were trapped in here. Oh god. Willow tried to push the image of herself
and Xander kissing on that very bed. She looked at Oz, trying to distract
herself. He was sitting at the base of the steps, almost on the exact spot
where he'd seen her and Xander. She wondered if the guys were thinking the
same thoughts she was.
The door at the top of the stairs flew open with a bang and Spike stomped down
the stairs, carefully avoiding the hole halfway up.
"Why so glum, chums?" Spike said sarcastically. "I, for one, am having a
fantastic day. Back in Sunnyhell, got Dru back, got the slayer's friends
locked up in the basement. Things couldn't be better!"
"What do you want from us this time, Spike?" Xander asked.
"Same thing I always want. The slayer. She's become rather predictable, it's
almost boring. Kidnap her friends, and she comes running after. You'd think
she'd catch on by now."
"Didn't you promise her you'd leave Sunnydale?" Willow asked.
"Well yes, but seeing as I already broke that promise I figured it was non-
binding anymore. Besides, the rest of the world just isn't as much fun. That
slayer, she's a challenge. She makes life interesting," Spike said.
The three captives said nothing.
"Okay, I know what's with you guys," Spike said. "I've been around. I pay
attention. Picked up a few lurking techniques from Angel. Romantic troubles,
huh? Boy, seems like the only thing I do in this town lately is knock people
upside the head with the truth. First Slayer and Angel. Now you guys. I'm
becoming a regular Cupid here."
Willow looked over at him, mildly interested.
"Want my advice, red?" Spike asked. "Forget logic. Screw it, logic is out the
window in matters of love. Personally, I think you can do better than either
of those two sods, but you seem to like them. Same thing I told your Slayer
friend. Love's in the blood. Look there."
Willow stared at the floor, tracing patterns in the layer of dust on the
cement with the toe of her shoe.
"And as for you two lads?" Spike continued. "That's one hell of a girl there.
Redheads. Fiery. I used to like them. Their blood was spicier somehow.
Whichever of you gets her, better take care of her."
With that sentence, Spike climbed the stairs again, locking the door behind
him. Didn't even give a reason for why he'd come down in the first place.
Willow looked up from the floor. Both Xander and Oz were watching her.
"As much as I hate to admit it, Spike's right," Xander said. "I know this is
not the ideal situation here, but Will, you might as well pick one of us right
now. Let one of us go to his grave a happy man."
"I already told you, Xander," Willow said. "I made my choice. I'm sorry you
got hurt. But I had to do what my heart was telling me. And it was telling me
I love Oz."
Willow stole a glance at Oz. Oz was still looking at the ground, but she could
see a half-smile on his face.
"Well, what makes you so sure you love Oz?" Xander said. "Did you just play
eeny meeny miney moe and he came up the winner?"
Willow sighed. She knew Xander didn't handle rejection well. She hadn't wanted
to hurt him.
"Fine, you want to know how I know?" Willow asked.
"Actually, I do," Xander said. "Do explain."
"Remember last year, when I was in the hospital after that bookcase fell on me
and I was in a coma for awhile?" Xander and Oz nodded. "Well, while I was in
the coma, I heard someone say he loved me. And I could feel that he really
meant it. And he needed me. And I had to come back for him, I couldn't leave
him. And I opened my eyes, and Oz was there."
Xander didn't say anything, but a pained look came into his eyes. Oz looked up
from the floor and looked at Xander for a long time, then looked at Willow.
"What?" Willow asked.
*****
Oz looked at Xander. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he wasn't the
one who had said I love you to Willow. Xander had been in the room just as
Willow woke up, and Oz took his place. It must have been Xander who said it.
But was Xander going to tell Willow the truth? Or was he going to hold his
tongue and continue to let Willow believe Oz had said it?
End Part Six
------------------------------
Date: Mon, 14 Dec 1998 20:25:11 EST
From: ChaseDKota@aol.com
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Snowball's Chance (2/?) by Chase DeKota
TITLE: Snowball's Chance
AUTHOR: Chase DeKota
EMAIL: ChaseDKota@aol.com
FEEDBACK: Please.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask. I'll say yes.
RATING: PG-14, for now
SPOILERS and TIMELINE: The story pretty much carries itself. Haven't seen
"Amends" yet, but I'm pretty sure this is just prior. Or maybe just after=
.
Spoilers all the way through "The Wish" just to be safe.
DISCLAIMER: The world of BtVS belongs to 20th Century Fox, with nods to Jo=
ss
Whedon and company; I'm only visiting it. 'Mac' and her magick appears
courtesy of J.J. Benike. Many thanks to my beta readers and those who've
offered feedback so far.
=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D
Snowball's Chance
By: Chase DeKota
Part: 2/?
=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D
In the center of the circle was a simple snowglobe with the 'globe' part
removed, leaving only a plastic cityscape on a plastic base that could be
anywhere. Could be, but wasn't. Across the base was painted 'Sunnydale, =
CA'
in neat letters.
The plastic snowglobe was more than someone's cheap souvenir. It was a pr=
op,
a representation. Using a very powerful spell, the plastic city *became*
Sunnydale and thus acting on the model, one could act on the city. It all
sounded so terribly simple.
As a demonstration, he had sprinkled a pinch of white sand over the model.
His audience gathered at the window and gazed in impressed wonder when the
snow began to fall. It didn't last long, of course, but it had served its
purpose.
When the text that contained such a spell, the Trio of Maccora, was
discovered, Dr. James Adams had been ecstatic. It was one of the most sou=
ght-
after manuscripts of its kind, and just the thing to jump-start his stalle=
d
career. He'd had to beg, borrow, and just short of steal to get the books=
-
two of them - into his possession.
The third book that made the set complete had yet to be found. It had bee=
n
separated from the rest and changed hands without leaving a traceable pape=
r
trail. It was lost to the ages, for the time being. Still, having two-th=
irds
of the Trio was enough to keep him busy for many years.
Right now, Dr. Adams was wishing he'd never set eyes on the Trio of Maccor=
a.
Another man had wanted these books just as badly as he himself had: an
insufferable British fellow who was more of a rival than a colleague. Giv=
en
the chance, Adams would gladly tell that guy he was welcome to them.
Unfortunately, the opportunity for that had long past. He stared down at =
the
plastic mockup, the flickering candles, the symbols painstakingly carved i=
nto
the wooden tabletop and sighed.
Adams knew there was more than meets the eye going on. He demanded answer=
s,
but only got reassurance from the dark-skinned man in the gaudy suit <
Trick=85that was his name, wasn't it? > that he was doing a big favor for =
the
Mayor. In fact, if all this was successful, he might even get an official
funding for his many pet projects at the museum.
But Adams had other, perhaps ethical, worries. Such powerful magick held =
the
potential to be very dangerous. He was beginning to suspect that these
strange people were the proverbial 'wrong hands.' < Brilliant deduction,
Sherlock > With the city linked to the plastic model, they had the capabi=
lity
to burn it, crush it, devastate it. For some reason, Dr. James Adams chos=
e
that moment to decide he wanted no further part in this. What good would
funding do if Sunnydale was wiped out?
"I need to speak with Mr. Trick," he told the two lackeys guarding the do=
or
and they nodded. One of the lackeys slipped out.
Adams waited patiently, smiling congenially. When Trick entered, the doct=
or
looked him straight in the eye and said, "I quit."
=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D
Sunnydale had an atrocious rate of crime and random gang violence. Many
citizens had loved ones who'd become victims in the unsolved murders on th=
e
police blotter. The Mayor understood this; he cared about his constituent=
s.
He wanted to do something for them especially during the holidays, when sa=
id
absences could make the season unbearable.
Thus, the 'First Annual Sunnydale Benefit Concert and Fundraiser' was born=
.
In the true spirit of the season, students from the local high school were
'volunteering' their time at the museum. They helped with programs, clean=
ed
up the theater where the concert was to be held, and hung non-denomination=
al
decorations. Come performance night, they'd serve as ushers and ticket
takers.
"Because if we're here, then we're not battling slimy slug-monsters at the
waterworks and inadvertently shutting off the city's water supply." Willo=
w
Rosenburg explained the reason for their predicament to her friend. "Or a=
t
least, leaving campus during school hours. That's Principal Snyder
'volunteered' us."
"Point is," Xander said, returning to a previous argument. "There's a dar=
ker
force at work here."
Willow paused in mid-fold and arched an eyebrow. "Like what?"
For a moment, the boy thought. "Well, I can't know all the plots of the
right-wing conspiracy. But this is the *museum.* Every time we come here=
,
something bad happens. Back me up on this, will ya, Buff? Buffster? Hey=
,
Buffy!"
It took a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking, to bring the blonde girl b=
ack
to reality. "Huh? Sorry=85I was thinking." She was met with curious sta=
res
from the two. "While I was patrolling in the cemetery last weekend, it
started snowing," she explained.
"Snow? In Sunnydale?" Willow gave a quizzical look to Xander. "I guess
stranger things have happened."
"Did you also hear sleighbells on your rooftop?"
Buffy Summers shot a withering glance to the boy. With a shake of her hea=
d
and a sigh, she returned to folding programs. Maybe the Hellmouth had dec=
ided
to go seasonal. Why not? Everyone else had.
The weather section of the newspaper hadn't cited any abnormal meteorologi=
cal
phenomena and Buffy was ready to dismiss it as a fluke of the locale. But=
,
there was something else about that night: the female stranger - Mac, was=
it?
Buffy had looked away for a second, up at the night sky, and Mac had vanis=
hed.
Now she was back. Leaning against a wall near the auditorium entrance, in
fact, and casually watching the goings-on much like she'd done in the
cemetery. While she appeared to be observing the activity as a whole, par=
t of
her attention was obviously devoted to the Slayer and gang. When Buffy
pointedly glanced in her direction and stood up, Mac quickly ducked out th=
e
door.
"Hmm, maybe today wasn't such a bust after all." Xander and Willow hadn't
seen anyone and were beginning to wonder if job-stress was affecting the
Slayer's mind. Buffy discarded the programs she'd been folding to the sid=
e
and hurried off, absently adding, "Be right back."
=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D
------------------------------
Date: Mon, 14 Dec 1998 21:18:05 -0500
From: uzenet@videotron.ca
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Dreams and Reality
Title: Dreams and Reality
Author: Northlight
email: uzenet@videotron.ca
Spoilers: The Wish
Summary: An event as large as 'the wish' is bound to have
consequences... even when the world goes back to normal.
Disclaimer: Joss owns these characters. I don't. Simple, right?
Author's notes: I think this turned out rather blah-ish (but then, they
always seem that way... If only they'd just turn out _exactly_ like I
think they should!). Maybe I'll get around to re-writing this. Or not.
Her skin was ice cold against his as she tried to push him away. It
chilled him, the utter lack of warmth in her usually warm skin striking
straight at his heart. He shuddered slightly, the involuntary movement
more one of horror than of any chill.
He didn't understand. Why was she so cold to his touch? Why was she
trying so hard to break free of his grasp? He needed to speak to her.
He needed to understand what was motivating her. His lips parted, the
words forming in his mind but refusing to spill out.
His palms rested against the soft leather she wore as he continued to
force her back inch by torturous inch. Willow didn't wear leather, his
mind shouted, begging for things to slow down long enough for it to
process the chaos around him.
He couldn't slow down, his body insisted. This was war. Fight.
Kill. Move on. Don't think... don't look into her eyes. They were
nothing. She was nothing but one of _them_.
Her head was shaking, shoulder length red hair swirling around her
face. He had always thought that it looked like fire, to match the one
that burned bright in her spirit. Now, it looked like a stream of
blood.
He wanted this to stop.
He had to _talk_ to Willow.
He kept on pushing at her, ignoring her swinging hair and batting hands
in his quest to get her... where? His mind came up blank, and his body
kept on herding her backwards.
Her head snapped up, beautiful green eyes darting around. They drank
in the world around them, while his saw only her. When her eyes smashed
into his, Oz's mind nearly went blank with the shock of seeing such rage
and bloodlust in her usually gentle green eyes.
His body barely even noticed that glitch in his mental functions. His
hands stayed on her, and his legs kept on moving, both serving to keep
her moving... always moving and he couldn't think... and all he could do
was watch.
It wasn't _his_ Willow.
He didn't have Willow anymore.
One last step. Her body slammed into the wooden cage his body had been
driving her towards. She stiffened, his hands still resting against the
body of the woman was wasn't and was his Willow. Her eyes went wide,
red lips parting in surprise.
Now she looked at him... and he saw fear... and loss.
And then she was gone. Her body turned to dust beneath his hands while
all he did was watch her leave him. She was gone. _Dead_.
His mind wailed in grief, wanting nothing more than to drop down among
her ashes and beg for another chance to make things right. His body was
no more willing to listen to him than before. Without another glance at
her, he strode back into Hell.
***
Oz woke up with a scream caught in his throat, the dream still pounding
in his head. He wiped at the tears streaking down his cheeks with a
shaking hand, his heart still racing frantically.
'That was certainly intense...' Oz thought, trying to banish the image
of dream-Willow exploding to dust before his eyes. It wouldn't leave
him alone. Her image remained firmly wedged in his memory, as vivid as
if it had been real.
He could have almost sworn that he could feel her dust covering his
hands... Oz shook his head, trying to shake loose the insistent remains
of his dream. Willow was absolutely fine. He hadn't killed her.
He thought of the last time that he had seen her, as he had left her
standing in front of his locker at school. There was such fear in her
eyes... and loss.
Before his eyes, her eyes turned into not-Willow's eyes.
_Was_ that dust on his hands?
Almost without him noticing it, Oz was at his phone, punching in the
familiar numbers.
"Hey, Willow...? It's me..."
~End~
*sigh* It was good before it got put down on computer... I swear!
------------------------------
End of buffyfic-digest V2 #394
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Dalton Spence has also provided an index of the buffyfic archive at:
http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/BUFFYFIC.HTM
For help, contact Jill Kirby (jtkirby@mcs.com) or sah (romana@mindspring.com)