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buffyfic-digest        Friday, January 1 1999        Volume 02 : Number 402



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (1b/?)
       BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (1c/?)

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: Fri, 1 Jan 1999 13:00:44 EST
From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (1b/?)

TITLE: Can't Hide the Past
*
AUTHOR: Shadows
*
DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on your
own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at [e-mail]
*
DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last episode
that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then my
mind will have it's own play.

 Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang
finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to all
of them.

 Chapter 1: Basically getting aqquainted to where the characters are now,
really. And each of them is mysteriously attacked by something they had
thought they had all left behind in the past.
*
DISCLAIMER: Ok, I have some major stuff to say that is not mine and what *is*
mine.

 Buffy Summers: Not mine. "Belongs to Joss Whedon, the WB, and ya know the
rest. i really hate repitition. It dulls the keys on the keyboard."
 Jonah Daly: Mine. Buffy's husband. I kinda took the name off of Carson Daly
from MTV because I was totally lacking in creative inspiration there, for a
moment. Um, Jonah is bascially like the MTV dude. I'm gonna make him out to be
like that.
 Elisabeth Sarah "Es" Summers-Daly: I own her. She's Buffy & Jonah's kid.

 Faith Moss: I don't own Faith. "" I made up the last name because so far, she
is lacking in one.

 Xander Harris: I don't own him. ""
 Cordelia Chase: I don't own her. ""
 Jonathan Peters: I own him. Buffy's
 Nicholas Peters: I own him. The child of Jonathan and Cordelia.
 Julia "Julie" and Joshua "Josh" Harris: I own them. They are the product of
Xander and his marriage to his first wife, Emily Longston. Her disclaimer'll
come later when I use her.
 Andrea "Annie" Harris: I own her. The child of Xander and Cordelia.

 Willow Rosenberg: I don't own her. "" I've also based her completely on
Alanis Morissette, because whenever I think of who I want Willow to be like
when she grows up, BOOM, I get the picture of Alanis Morissette. So be it.
 Jeremy "Oz" Osbourne: I don't own him. "" I made up the first name 'cause I
doubt his parents were cool enough to actually name his "Oz", unless they were
one of 'em hippy people or something when they had him. Then he probably
would've been name something like Clover or another hippy name. ::insert
shudder here::
 Adriana "Echo" Ruben-Brown: I own her. She's Willow's friend from college,
and they are both members of a coven that they helped start. She is also the
wife of:
 Devon Brown: I don't own him. "" He was an original mmeber of "Dingoes Ate My
Baby." I made up his last name because I figure that he needs one. He is
married to Echo, and is part of the band:
 "Hellmouth": I own the name. Oh, c'mon, what would be a cooler and more
likely name for Oz's band, after "Dingoes Ate My Baby" got tired? My friend
liked the name, anyway. All of their songs are someone elses, and likewise,
their disclaimer'll follow.

 Green Leaf Cafe: I hope I own it. It's a little cafe in Greenwich where Buffy
once worked a while back, before she was "discovered" by her husband.
 Jack Hansen: I own him. Xander's co-worker down where he works.
 The song that Willow is singing is the first part of Alanis Morissette's "All
I Really Want." I'm not a songwriter, folks. Forgive me for lack of
originality.
 White Rose Coven: I own it. Oh, I hope I'm making the name up. If their is an
actual coven out there by that name, I did not use that name purposely. Sorry.
 MoonRaven: I own her. I took he name from the lady witch who runs "A
Mystickal Grove", a popular Wiccan site on the Internet.
*
AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is something vaguely sexual here, so I give this chapter
a PG-13. OK? Nothing graphic at all. Just . . . hinting, I suppose.
*
*
*
Can't Hide the Past
Chapter 1
Part B (Cause stupid AOL won't let me past the whole darn thing in one e-
mail!!!)



    This time they were being very careful, very safe. The door was closed.

    Last time, which had definitely been only a short while ago, Julie and Josh
had walked in on them. Definitely not mature for their age of five, the twins
had set upon telling the entire tale in vivid detail to the dinner guests
later that night, much to their parents disgust and complete horror. After a
long talk on the birds and the bees, Julie and Josh had agreed to keep quiet
about the incident, although they had both agreed that this little thing was a
wonderful blackmail. Yet, the opportunity to use it had not yet arisen. They
would be quiet . . . they would wait.

    Meanwhile, their parents were being a little more cautious as to their
surroundings when they "did it." Since the bedroom was always a major factor,
with the bed being there and everything, and the walls were thick, there
remained the fact that for the rest of the times that they had sex, the
freakin' door would be closed.

    Of course, it did not matter how thick the walls were and if the door was
closed and whether they were ten feet for ten million miles away from the
twins' bedroom. Nothing in the known universe could muffle Cordelia's screams
of ecstasy.

    She, of course, was done with the screaming part now. They were nearing the
end part, and Cordelia was quite comfortable with being silent and letting her
husband do his thing under the covers.

    "Hmm, yes, that's the right spot," she murmured contently as her talented
spouse touched her in just the right place. A sob of enjoyment was caught in
her throat as she kept herself in check. "Oh . . . yeah."

    She was just sneaking under the covers to pleasure her husband a bit when the
phone on the nightstand let out it's annoying, piercing ring. Rolling her
eyes, Cordelia climbed out of her "position" and reached for the phone.

    "Hello, you've reached the Harris residence," Cordelia said cordially into
the phone, realizing how much she sounded like a secretary. "This is Cordelia.
May I please ask the name of whoever is suicidal enough to be calling me at-"
she reached out one long, bare arm to turn the digital clock to face her-"six
o'clock in the freakin' morning?" She ended the sentence in a honeyed tone,
trying to sound as sardonically polite as she could be.

    "Um, hello Cordelia," said a pleasant male voice, sounding as tired as
Cordelia sounded pissed. "This is Jack. Can I please speak to Xander, if he's
there?"

    "Oh, he's here alright," Cordelia said icily into the phone. Next to her,
Xander popped his head out of the covers, his hair mussed and his face
flushed. "Unfortunately, Roger, he's busy right now." Xander tapped her on the
shoulder, and she turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. He made a big "no"
sign and then held out his hand for the phone.

    "Never mind, here he is," Cordelia grumbled into the phone, begrudgingly
handing the phone over to her husband. "Obviously, you've got your priorities
crossed," she mumbled crossly, ducking under the covers. Xander just sighed
and turned his attention to the phone.

    "So Jack, what about that ca-" Xander stopped mid-word, sucking his breath in
sharply. He closed his eyes, his lips curving upwards into a smile, which
quickly grew to a frown. He cupped on large hand over the receiver, and then
whispered harshly, "Cordelia, not *now*!"

    All he got in response was a muffled giggled, and more of what she had begun
to do. "Roger, ah . . . I'm gonna have to call you back," he managed to get
out, and then slammed the phone back into his handle. "Are you trying to
embarrass me in front of my co-worker?" Xander said teasingly, sliding back
under the covers to that he could further enjoy this special attention.

     Mid attention-giving, there was a sudden crash from outside. Two tousled
heads popped out, both very upset and one slightly paranoid.

    "I think that came from the shed," Cordelia said in a tiny voice, looking
around the bedroom. Her eyes landed on the door, then they flicked to Xander,
and then back to the door. "Ahem," she said, clearing her throat loudly.

    Xander groaned, and then sat up. "Where are my boxers?" he said, looking
frantically around for his under-shorts. Spotting them a good toss away from
the bed, he climbed out of bed naked, only then realizing how damn cold it was
in the small bedroom. "I wish you didn't have such a good arm," he chuckled,
remembering just how far she had tossed in his clothes 30 or so minutes ago.

    "Oh, you *like* my good arm," Cordelia said teasingly, sitting up in bed
also. She wrapped the covers around her upper and lower body, even though she
was very comfortable displaying her body in front of Xander. "You so know you
do."

    "Of course I do," Xander said, pulling up his boxers. He picked up his
undershirt from the back on the desk chair and pulled his on over his head.
With a smile, he reached behind the computer monitor that rested on his desk
and took a long while in pulling out a black, lacey bra. "Is this yours, Mrs.
Harris?" he asked, dangling it in the air and wiggling his eyebrows at his
wife.

    Cordelia laughed, a lilting sound that sounded like music to Xander's ears.
The words {I can't believe she's my wife} flashed through his mind a million
times, even though she had been his wife for a good four years now. Every time
he looked at her body, every time that she spoke aloud, and every time that he
looked into her eyes, those exact words ran through his mind. He just couldn't
believe his amazing luck. {You're blessed, Harris} he told himself, believing
every word he thought.

    "Yes, it's mine," she said sultrily, letting her eyelids half-close over her
eyes as she continued staring steadily at him. When she did that it always
turned him on, and they both knew it. "But you can keep it for a souvenir, if
you like."

    "Hmm, I'd like that a lot," Xander said, and he stuffed the bra into the back
pocket of his boxers, making sure that a bit peeked through. "Now, while I be
the man and check on whatever raccoon happened to take shelter in our shed,
don't go anywhere, ok? I learned something new that I'd like to show you." His
voice clearly hinted at something.

    "Yeah, and I'd be even more interested in who you learned it from!" Cordelia
called after her husband as he closed the bedroom door behind him. She could
hear his laughter, the soft laughter that always sent shivers up her spine.
{You don't deserve him at all} Cordelia thought to herself, laying back down
in the bed and patting her pillow. {Or, you do deserve him, and you've finally
got him}. That thought made her grin.

    Only four years ago she was in the hospital, deep in a coma she had been
brought into from the severe beating her first husband, Jonathan Peters, had
given her earlier that evening. She could still remember his angry voice, the
sound of his baseball bat crunching her bones, and their child, Nicholas, who
was only three or four years old at the time, screaming for Daddy not to hurt
Mommy-yes, she still remembered that horrible night. And then, the next day,
she was lying in a hospital bed, totally unconscious.

    She had lied there for two straight weeks, completely alone and unable to
tell her story-she wouldn't, anyway, because she was the classic beaten wife
case, totally unable to admit that anything was wrong with her marriage.
Jonathan was off doing computer programming in Asia and totally refused to
come back to L.A., which was becoming mighty suspicious for the social service
workers that hung out on the fourth floor. Poor Nicholas, who they might have
extracted information from, was completely in shock. He refused to speak, and
he didn't regain his speech until an entire year later. Even now he was still
a shy and quiet boy, with a dark and brooding expression, and brown eyes that
were much too old for a seven-year-old.

    When she finally came out of the coma, two weeks after she was admitted to
the hospital, she had extreme amnesia, only able to remember two words:
"Alexander Harris." These two words brought such mixed feelings, such as
anger, hate, betrayal, but strongest of all, an intense feeling of love, of
actually feeling that he completed her. Not a face, not a recollection as to
where these feelings came from were available to Cordelia.

    Then a lucky break came. The nurse who take care of her, a kind women
somewhere in her late forties, named Celeste, recognized the name. It seems
that a man by the same name had checked in to the hospital, asking for a nurse
to take care of his twin newborns while he spent his time here in L.A.
Celeste's friend, Maggie, had been chosen for the job, and she could get this
Alexander Harris to show up. If he recognized her, they could continue getting
her memory back, because although there were picture and evidence of her
present, any and all before her marriage to Jonathan was a complete blank to
her and everyone else.

    The next day, Alexander Harris showed up. Cordelia still remembered the first
time she saw him, standing in the doorway, such a sad, depressed face on.
Then, when he saw her: bandages, crutches by her bed side, bruised all over
the place, his face had dropped into one of complete shock and sympathy. He
had sat by her hospital bed, demanding to know who had done this to her so
that he could give whoever it was a damn good thrashing. Cordelia didn't
answer him, but instead wondered why this man, this strange man with the
gorgeous face, great build, and light British accent felt the need to protect
her so.

    Least to say, the following week was a week of immense learning, and Cordelia
gained her memory quite quickly, though it was mostly from actually banging
her head on the side of her hospital bed than the fine-toothed experiments
most of the doctors and Xander had made her through.

    The first thing she did was freak out because the things that Xander had been
telling her about her past was indeed true. The second thing she did was
report the still-away-on-business Jonathan to the authorities and demand a
divorce and also a restraining order. The third thing she did was ask Xander
if he would consider a relationship, taking in consideration what had only
recently happened in England. Xander had agreed nonetheless, and in less than
six months or so they wed, and nine months later their daughter, *their*
daughter Annie was born. They were a family, now and forever.

    And, as Cordelia waited for Xander to return, she thought he was a mighty
fine act in bed, too.

***

    The air was chilly, mainly because it was December and it was Virginia, and
Xander knew that he just asking for a cold, going outdoors in his kind of
clothing. But all he had to do was take a quick look in the shed, run the
stupid raccoon out, and then go back up to the bedroom again. Simple, really,
and if he did it fast enough, he wouldn't have to down a bottle of Triaminic
afterwards. Honestly, Cordelia had the strangest way of avoiding colds. But at
least the Triaminic tasted rather well, for medicine.

    The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and Xander was overtaken by the
sudden fear that he would have to go to work soon. Then he calmed down,
reminding himself that it was Saturday and they were letting him take the
weekend off. Thank God, too. Xander planned on taking the kids camping, even
Cordelia and Annie, though they would have to deal with taking care of a
three-year-old. Luckily, Annie was turning out to be much of a tomboy, like
Julie had turned out to be. There would be no misgivings while Xander,
Nicholas, Josh, and Julie went out trekking in the woods, although Cordelia
would most likely stay inside the tent, mothering Annie to death. She meant
well, anyway . . .

    Xander reached out to pull the shed doors open, and he grunted in surprise
when they didn't open. He put his feet in the ground and then pulled hard on
the doors, and still they did not swing open. Dammit, he was a big man, and he
tons of muscles from working out, and he was very, very strong. So why weren't
the doors opening? They opened fine yesterday; they couldn't possibly rust
shut overnight.

    For a second, Xander wondered if something other than raccoons were his shed,
but he was no longer someone who was content to just wonder. He went to the
back of the shed where a few shovels were lying around, and praying Cordelia
didn't come out screaming "Xander! What are you doing to the shed?!", he went
back to the front and began to pound on the front doors.

    When he heard the satisfying *clang* of the lock being broken inside, he
shoved the doors open, and the rosy pink light of the sunrise flooded the
shed. Something moved along a pile of some unnamable metal parts, and Xander
was quick enough to see that it was indeed a raccoon. "Oh, get the hell out of
here," Xander grumbled, throwing the shovel at the metal parts, careful not to
hit the animal. He did succeed in scaring it, though, and the mammal quickly
scampered past Xander, running out of the shed like it was crazed. The strange
behavior puzzled Xander; that and the fact that something seemed so *wrong*.
It was just in the air.

    Cautiously, Xander entered the shed, walking all the way to the back, where
the sunrise's light did not shine. He looked around, but he saw nothing.
Suddenly, something skittered up the back wall, and Xander stepped back and
looked up high, sighing when he realized it was just a lizard.

    "See, nothing," he told himself, crossing his arms over his chest. "Some
imagination."

    He was totally caught off guard when something did indeed grab him from
behind and pulled him up against the wall. Startled, Xander gathered himself
as his attacker grabbed a good hold of his neck. Squirming out of his
attacker's strong grip, he fell to the floor and quickly rolled under some old
mats. Whoever jumped on top of the map, but Xander rolled back out just in
time. He got to his feet while the attacker was still rolling around, still
tangled up. Xander laughed and grabbed the person by the back, intent on
punching the lights out of this asshole.

    How surprised-how very surprised-was he when he looked into the horrible,
misshapen face of his attacker. A forehead creased together in a ridge down
the center, horrible yellow eyes as though it had hepatitis, and a mouth full
of big, sharp, teeth, and a pair of long, elongated . . . fangs.

    "Oh *shit*." Xander said aloud, and the vampire, seeing that Xander was
momentarily stunned, took the chance to try punching him out. He knocked
Xander to the floor again, and then proceeded to get on top of him, heading
right for his neck, growling with intense hunger.

    Xander, realizing just what the heck was gonna happen here, grabbed the
vampire by the neck and threw him off. All those years of physical therapy and
self defense weren't for nothing . . . Xander flipped over unto his back and
quickly glanced around the shed, and finding what he wanted, grabbed it off a
shelf. The vampire, with his back to him, tried turning around to capture his
intended victim, but Xander was armed with the handle of a broken hammer. In a
rage, Xander shoved it right through the vampire's heart, staring in disbelief
as it disappeared into dust. Then he let the handle clatter to the floor.

    "Oh *shit*," he repeated, walking backwards out of the shed. He closed the
door quickly behind him, and then lay against the doors for support. A
vampire, in the daylight, in *his* shed, intent on making him his breakfast-or
dinner. Why, after 15 years of being left alone, did they choose to bother him
now . . .

    Well, if they were in his shed they were probably damn well everywhere.
Xander looked around him in a controlled panic, and then ran towards the
house, not caring what the neighbors or the children thought. "Cordelia!" he
yelled loudly as soon as he entered the house and the front door banged behind
him. "Get down here quick! We need to talk!"



//*\\ End of Part B //*\\
Feedback is so requested. Tell me whatcha like, tell me whatcha hate.
~Shadows~

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

Date: Fri, 1 Jan 1999 16:56:30 EST
From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (1c/?)

TITLE: Can't Hide the Past
*
AUTHOR: Shadows
*
DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on your
own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at [e-mail]
*
DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last episode
that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then my
mind will have it's own play.

 Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang
finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to all
of them.

 Chapter 1: Basically getting aqquainted to where the characters are now,
really. And each of them is mysteriously attacked by something they had
thought they had all left behind in the past.
*
DISCLAIMER: Ok, I have some major stuff to say that is not mine and what *is*
mine.

 Buffy Summers: Not mine. "Belongs to Joss Whedon, the WB, and ya know the
rest. i really hate repitition. It dulls the keys on the keyboard."
 Jonah Daly: Mine. Buffy's husband. I kinda took the name off of Carson Daly
from MTV because I was totally lacking in creative inspiration there, for a
moment. Um, Jonah is bascially like the MTV dude. I'm gonna make him out to be
like that.
 Elisabeth Sarah "Es" Summers-Daly: I own her. She's Buffy & Jonah's kid.

 Faith Moss: I don't own Faith. "" I made up the last name because so far, she
is lacking in one.

 Xander Harris: I don't own him. ""
 Cordelia Chase: I don't own her. ""
 Jonathan Peters: I own him. Buffy's
 Nicholas Peters: I own him. The child of Jonathan and Cordelia.
 Julia "Julie" and Joshua "Josh" Harris: I own them. They are the product of
Xander and his marriage to his first wife, Emily Longston. Her disclaimer'll
come later when I use her.
 Andrea "Annie" Harris: I own her. The child of Xander and Cordelia.

 Willow Rosenberg: I don't own her. "" I've also based her completely on
Alanis Morissette, because whenever I think of who I want Willow to be like
when she grows up, BOOM, I get the picture of Alanis Morissette. So be it.
 Jeremy "Oz" Osbourne: I don't own him. "" I made up the first name 'cause I
doubt his parents were cool enough to actually name his "Oz", unless they were
one of 'em hippy people or something when they had him. Then he probably
would've been name something like Clover or another hippy name. ::insert
shudder here::
 Adriana "Echo" Ruben-Brown: I own her. She's Willow's friend from college,
and they are both members of a coven that they helped start. She is also the
wife of:
 Devon Brown: I don't own him. "" He was an original mmeber of "Dingoes Ate My
Baby." I made up his last name because I figure that he needs one. He is
married to Echo, and is part of the band:
 "Hellmouth": I own the name. Oh, c'mon, what would be a cooler and more
likely name for Oz's band, after "Dingoes Ate My Baby" got tired? My friend
liked the name, anyway. All of their songs are someone elses, and likewise,
their disclaimer'll follow.

 Green Leaf Cafe: I hope I own it. It's a little cafe in Greenwich where Buffy
once worked a while back, before she was "discovered" by her husband.
 Jack Hansen: I own him. Xander's co-worker down where he works.
 The song that Willow is singing is the first part of Alanis Morissette's "All
I Really Want." I'm not a songwriter, folks. Forgive me for lack of
originality.
 White Rose Coven: I own it. Oh, I hope I'm making the name up. If their is an
actual coven out there by that name, I did not use that name purposely. Sorry.
 MoonRaven: I own her. I took he name from the lady witch who runs "A
Mystickal Grove", a popular Wiccan site on the Internet.
*
AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is something vaguely sexual here, so I give this chapter
a PG-13. OK? Nothing graphic at all. Just . . . hinting, I suppose.
*
*
*
Can't Hide the Past
Chapter 1
Part C (Cause stupid AOL won't let me past the whole darn thing in one e-
mail!!!)



    "Ok, now listen to this, alright? Here goes . . ."

    Willow Osbourne sat up on one of the couch cushions that had been thrown on
the hardwood floor for comfort. Her legs were cross-legged like Buddha, her
hair, which reached down to her ankles when she stood up, was sprawled all
over the floor, and in her beautiful manicured hands was a small cup of herbal
tea.

    She wore a pair of loose-fitting, ragged old Levi's that once were her
husbands, back when they fit him. He had grown quite a bit since he had bought
these pants, so now they were Willow's. Her top was a loose-fitting, copper,
velvety thing with a dangerously low neckline. A beautiful choker with a
silver half-moon hanging from a ribbon beautifully accented her pale, elegant
neck. Her hair, thick and dangerously wavy and colored "Terra Cotta Shocked",
hung over in her eyes and she bent forwards, scribbling furiously in a
notebook.

    She rocked back and forth to an imaginary rhythm, never taking her eyes of
the paper and writing with more and more ferocity as she neared the bottom of
the page. Then, with a little exclamation of triumph, she dotted her last
period and then jumped up, the couch cushion swaying dangerously. "Done! I
think I got it!" she exclaimed excitedly, shaking with joy. Then she cleared
her throat and opened her mouth, and out came these words:

    "Do I stress you out?
     My sweater is on backwards and inside out,
     And you say how appropriate.
     I don't want to dissect everything today,
     I don't mean to pick you apart you see,
     But I can't help it.
     There I go jumping before the gunshot has gone off.
     Slap me with a splintered ruler,
     And it would knock me to the floor if I wasn't there already
     If only I could hunt the hunter!"

    Then, done singing her little diddy, she sat back down on the cushion,
crossed her legs, and waited for the response.

    Before her sat her husband, a fellow coven member, and an ex-boyfriend. Also
known as Jeremy "Oz" Osbourne, Adriana "Echo" Ruben-Brown, and Devon Brown.
Also, to most of America, they were known as the extremely popular and
successful alternative music band, "Hellmouth."

    "I thought that was really good. I like the lyrics, but the music could be
worked on," Oz offered after a long pause for careful consideration. He was
wearing an old checkered jacket over one of his many bowling shirts, this one
a cheerful light blue that said "New York City" in script above the left
pocket. He wore a pair of brand new khaki's that Willow had gotten him for his
birthday. His hair was its regular brown this month, but if Willow was going
to the supermarket like she said she was, it wouldn't stay this shade for
long.

"Where's the rest of the song?" Echo asked abruptly. She wore a tight black
shirt that had a gorgeous silk-screened rose on the front, and on the back the
words "White Rose Coven" were scripted, along with the name "Echo." As for the
lower part of her, she had on a skirt with a dangerous slit down the side,
which had been caused when Echo had caught it on the side of the door and
ripped it. Her shaggy black hair framed her pale china face and her delicate
feature, and ended somewhere below her shoulder blades.

Everyone gave her an exasperated look. "What, I want to know!" When nobody
else said anything and just glared at her, she scowled a little and shrunk
back into her seat on the couch. "Oh, what do you expect," she grumbled, "I'm
just the drummer."

    Next to her, her husband Devon shifted in his seat and shifted the position
of his arm, which rested on Echo's shoulders. He was wearing an old, faded t-
shirt that had a picture of a skater dude, and baggy blue jeans. His brown
hair was in a style reminiscent of Ben Affleck when he was young. "I really,
really liked the lyrics, and I have a suggestion for the music . . . more of
an uppity thing, instead of so mellow."

    "Ok," Willow said cheerfully, wanting as much feedback as she could get. She
was absolutely dying to get a new record out, especially after the success of
their first two albums, and as the songwriter of the group, she had to make
some big contributions. Like writing the songs themselves.

    "I also have the chorus part down already, but I don't like how it goes right
after this certain paragraph. But I'm thinking, if I think of another
paragraph, then maybe it'll fit . . ."

    The whole band dove right into the song, adding their own lyrics although it
was Willow's job, adding percussion although that was Echo's job, and the boys
remained pretty true to them making the decisions about the guitar. Echo,
though, was all for the electronica part of the song. She loved working with
the keyboard, and making all sorts of weird music and noises to use in the
song.

    The whole team was really involved in the process when there was the sound of
glass breaking from outside. They all lifted their heads up, Oz and Willow
exchanging looked. Oz's ears twitched back, extremely unnatural for a human,
and then concentrated as though he was listening to something far away. Echo
and Devon turned to watch him carefully: he was the best bodyguard, what with
the ability to tune into his wolf senses whenever he liked.

    "There's someone outside and . . ." Oz shivered, and that fact was clearly
visible to the other members of the band. "I actually think it's . . .
something."

    "Oh darn, I'll get the supplies," Echo groaned, getting up off her arse and
walking over to the little kitchen they had going in this apartment. She
reached up for the top cabinet and opened it, starting to pull out all the
ancient Christian relics. "Really, Willow, I remember you scaring MoonRaven so
bad when she opened this cabinet," Echo chuckled, remembering a certain
episode when their coven leader had come to visit the apartment. "I can just
see the expression on her face. 'I thought you were *Jewish* and Wiccan,
child! Not three whole religions! How do you split your time so?* Hmm. Quite
memorable."

    "Yeah, well, I'm not surprised if she buys the whole 'it's to ward off
vampires' thing," Devon said wryly to Willow. "She took it pretty well when
you broke the news about you and Oz being werewolves and all."

    "Well, she did tell me she was a witch," Willow said, shrugging. "I say fair
and fair."

    Oz was slowly walking towards to the door, his ears still contorted forwards.
Any person that was not used to seeing them like that would definitely be sick
to their stomach. "Gimme a stake," he murmured, finally arriving at the door.

    "Here." Echo closed the cabinet and tossed out some wooden stakes, teeny
nail-polish bottles of holy water, and crosses to the three other people in
the apartment. Then Willow, Devon, and Echo came up behind Oz, armed and
ready.

    Ever since Oz and Willow had left Sunnydale behind, the vampires and other
supernatural forces (not counting Willow's interest in the Craft) had never
bothered them. When they had moved down here to Old World Mexico, however,
evil still pretty much had somewhat of a reign over here, stepped in ancient
traditions. After telling Echo and Devon (heck, they had taken tons of the
truth in, already) the four had gone out, bought the supplies, and generally
knew what to do. It also helped that Oz was able to tap into his werewolf
aspect at any time, Willow and Echo were trained in all aspects of being
Wiccan, and Devon having a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. They were pretty much
prepared for anything.

    "It's by the fountain," Echo noted, sensing the empty pocket in the energy
that flowed all around the small apartment complex in Southern Mexico. Willow
nodded in affirmation, feeling the emptiness also. No doubt that Oz sensed it,
for dogs and cats had always been able to spot the paranormal. Once, Willow
and Echo had to perform an exorcism of the house because Oz was being driven
nuts by a ghost living in one of the pasts apartments they had rented.

    "I'll take your word it," Devon said as he looked out the window, pushing the
vertical blinds out of the way so that he could see somewhat clearly. "I
really can't tell anything in this dark. It looks like no one is there."

    "Well, no one isn't there," Echo said, matching Devon's earlier tone of
wryness. "Some*thing* is there."

    "Give you that," Devon admitted, shrugging.

    Oz opened the door and the four of them stepped out, Oz immediately changing
his eyes into the werewolf form so that he could see better in the dark. "It's
there alright," he admitted, feeling his hair standing up straight on end.
"Who wants to get it?"

    Willow was about to open her mind to call her dibs on slaying the intruding
vamp when a shadow dropped from atop the porch roof and landed straight on Oz,
knocking him over the banister and sending him flying three stories down to
the fountain, where the other vampire waited.

    "OZ!" Willow shrieked, turning to the wrought-iron stairs and quickly running
down the winding steps, tightening her hold on her stake and ignoring the pain
as her feet pounded against the metal. In a few seconds she had made it to the
first floor, and she quickly hurried across the square to the fountain, barely
registering the fact that Echo and Devon were right at her heels.

    Oz was not stupid-no human being could survive behind thrown three stories
down into the unforgiving earth. But his werewolf form could at least recover
quickly, and the only misgiving that he had was that he had really messed up
his shirt. He quickly morphed in mid-air, silently thanking Willow's friend
SilverDragon, who had so meticulously shown him how to change from werewolf to
human in just an instant. It had felt rather . . . good, to know that there
were others like him, others who also had to live like he and Willow did.

    Anyway, back to the point. The vampire was extremely surprised that when they
reached the ground, he held in his clutches not a somewhat scrawny human, but
a big, strong, and angry lycanthrope. The vampire released his grip and tried
to jump off the werewolf, but Oz wasn't about to let this guy go. As the
vampire crawled away, Oz jumped on his back and slashed it open with his paw,
causing the vampire to let out a cry in agony.

    In the building across the square, a light flicked on. A woman came to the
window and tossed it open, noticing the commotion outside. Sigh, another
vampire. Since this part of Mexico was still very rural, they were very much
into the old beliefs, and this woman, like most of the others around these
parts, knew of the existence of ancient evils. This woman was not scared. All
she did was take the cross that was hanging over her bed and place it on the
window, and then picked up the phone to call her aunt that lived across the
street, in the apartment above the one where the werewolves/witches lived.
Then she went back to sleep, not afraid at all, knowing that whatever vampire
stupid enough to attack anyone in these parts would soon be annihilated by the
nice people who had moved in a few months ago.

    Devon and Echo, what with their experiences in Chinese/Japanese fighting, set
to beating the pulp out of the vampire by the fountain, not staking it until
it cried for mercy. Willow just sat by the edge of the fountain, waiting for
Oz to do his stuff.

    Now that the vampire was in some pain and not up to his full strength, Oz
changed back into something resembling more human. He rolled away from the
vampire, and then grabbed him by the shoulders. The vampire growled with
ferocity, and then kicked Oz hard in the shin. Oz winced, but he just lifted
the vampire off from the floor and flung over to where Willow was. Willow
smiled and pushed the vampire face-first into the water, instantly setting off
smoke. The vampire squealed and screamed as she plunged him fully into the
deep, watching him writhe and cry out with pain. Not for nothing had she and
Echo blessed all the water in this fountain.

    Oz came up behind her, gathering the bits of clothing that still hung off of
him around the places that needed most to be covered. Echo and Devon, done
torturing their vampire, gathered around Willow. None of them made any move as
to pull the vampire out of the blazing water, Willow and Oz stared with grim
satisfaction as the vampire screamed for a mercy, and Willow felt extreme
pleasure at seeing such an evil being suffering so. It deserved it.

    "Ok, we can kill it now," she announced, crossing her arms over her chest.
She was content enough already.

     Oz made no move whatsoever, because his human self was still healing. Devon,
stronger than Willow or Echo, reached out and pulled the vampire, who's skin
had turn black and smelled faintly like a building did after it had been
incinerated by a house fire. He easily shoved a stake right into the heart,
and then he was left clutching at dust and air.

    They were silent for a moment, collecting their thoughts. Then Echo shifted
the weight on her feet. She was tired.

    "G'night," she told the rest of the group, heading back towards the stairs.
"We can work on the song tomorrow. Ok?"

    The rest of the group shrugged.



//*\\ End of Part C and Chapter 1 //*\\
Feedback is so way wanted and needed and loved with tenderness and care. Both
Pos and Neg.
~Shadows~

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

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