Effective January 23, 1999, the Xmission Buffy discussion list and the Xmission Buffy fiction list will stop operations.
This was not an easy decision for us to make, but real life is becoming increasingly intrusive. One of us is writing her dissertation, one is rehabbing a house, all of us have jobs and personal lives-- and all of these things get in the way of running the kind of list we want to run. So, reluctantly, we're giving it up.
There are numerous other great Buffy lists out there, as well as a very active newsgroup. We'd encourage people to post about these other lists so that no one becomes "Buffy list deprived" after this list stops functioning. :)
You don't need to do anything if you want to stay onlist until the end-- the list will just go away, and you'll be automatically uns*bbed. Or, as always, you can uns*b any time before the 23rd. Needless to say, we will not be processing any new subscription requests as of this date. In terms of the list rules-- we'll continue to enforce the rules on flaming, spoilers and the four-line quote rule.
ALSO: As of the 23rd, all archives will go away-- and this includes the fiction archives. If there's something you want, get it now.
Thanks to all of you for making this a list that we were proud to run.
Jill & Sharon, listowners
Lisa Rose, assistant listowner
Jill Kirby ~~ jtkirby@mcs.net
www.geocities.com/SoHo/Lofts/4107
"Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the
center. Big, undreamed of things - the people on the edge see them
first. I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over."
"IE took over my entire PC and I had to delete it, while chanting an exorcism
ritual. It's an evil, evil thing and must be stopped." --jtk
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 6 Jan 1999 22:36:50 EST
From: Titanic437@aol.com
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (3b/?)
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 Titanic437@aol.com
*
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 2: Xander, Willow, and Faith get a little . . . well, ok, a BIG blast
from the past. or blasted into the past. Whatever.
8
NOTE: Since I don't want to write "Young Xander" and "Future Xander" over and
over again, and it doesn't look good, all characters from 2013 will have a F-
preceeding their name, like F-Xander, F-Willow, and F-Faith, once they are in
the past. The characters from 1998 will continue to be spelled like they
always are. Or maybe I'll spell Xander with a "Z" just to spite all you ture
watchers of the show (hmm, overused pun unintended).
*
*
*
Can't Hide the Past
Chapter 2
Part B
She was so tired. She'd been on the road for so long, in that truck of hers
(well, the truck driver that she had taken it from didn't deserve it, after
what he'd tried to do to her) which had broken down about a mile from where
Buffy lived. She had walked all the way to the Daly {god it's so hard to
accept that Buffy's married} house in the rain, probably catching a cold, and
to top it all off, had to fight a vampire. And now, when she was in a nice,
comfy room in a nice, comfy setting, the air between Buffy and her was not the
only thing uncomfortable. The damned leather couch was pretty uncomfortable,
too.
Ok, ok, so she'd sleep on anything, but something was really wigging her out
about this place. Not the actual place, just this house. She knew how to sense
mystical forces, and they were very near to here, however dormant. For a
second, she wondered if this Hollywood suburb was on a Hellmouth.
"Wouldn't that be interesting," Faith said wryly, propping her head up on the
arm of the couch and stretching her legs. She wondered if she could watch TV
here, since she was just itching to see the picture on the enormous DigiTel.
The energy she sensed grew louder. The prophecy that her Watcher had warned
her of flicked through her mind. Could it . . . no way. Faith shrugged the
thought away. In the morning, when Buffy came back down to shoo her out of the
way of her husband and daughter, faith would bluntly drop the information on
her, and then leave. She didn't want to stay *here* for too long.
She was just leaning over to reach the remote, precariously balanced on the
sofa's edge, when she felt as though her body had been dipped in ice-cold
water. The shock ran like needles throughout her whole body, gripping her mind
in a state of panic. She screamed-
-and gasped in surprise as water flooding into her mouth and choked on her
closed passage.
Faith's eyes widened, and then sensation turned into an image around her. She
in the water, blue-green water, and the sunlight was playing all over the sand
by her feet. *Sand*. And the water that had gotten to her mouth was salty-sea
water.
Oh god, she was drowning in the sea.
Faith did a scissors kick, reaching up vainly with her arms towards the
sunlight that was visible above. She was never a good swimmer, and she had
always swum in rivers or really, really peaceful lakes. Oceans were big.
Oceans were unpredictable. Oceans were scary.
The fact that she was strong and hadn't had to float all the way down to the
floor had done her good. She had broken the surface in just under a few
minutes, gasping for breath and trying to clear the hair out of her eyes while
keeping afloat. She blinked, trying to get the stinging feeling out of her
eyes. She rubbed them, but it only made it worse.
There. A strip of shore. Beach. Sand. Land. Faith remembered a long time ago,
when she was 13, and the really cute instructor was trying to teach her how to
swim. "I want to swim just like those Olympic people," she had told him, and
he had taught her the move with her hands, the butterfly or chest something-
or-other. She couldn't remember the name, but for the life of her she'd better
remember how to do it.
God she was freezing, and her legs were aching. *Deal* Faith told herself
angrily, and began to swim towards the bit of shore.
Did she mention how the ocean was unpredictable? She didn't feel the large
wave come up behind her, hardly noticed the little ripples that proceeded it.
Then she was up in the air for a brief moment, carried on the lump, and then
she was dashed down into the water like a stone, suddenly losing all sense of
where up or down and left or right were. Her brain, not knowing how to deal
with being cut off from everything, pumped adrenaline into her brain. She
kicked furiously, driven by the frenzy created in her veins, but she couldn't
match the swirling waters of the wave, and she let her body go slack as the
wave tossed her like a rag doll towards the shore . . .
*****
As Faith groggily came back to awareness, the first thing she noticed was
that she was freezing cold, and that while her mouth was not moving, her teeth
were on the verge of chattering frantically. The next thing that she noticed
was the small bit of water that kept soaking her hair, and then disappearing.
Waves. The third thing that she noticed was that she was lying on sand, rocks
jabbing uncomfortably into her spine, bits of beach caked to her bare arms and
legs. The final thing she noticed was the warm, cozy body that was snuggled
next to her.
The hell . . . Faith opened her eyes wide and was greeted by a starry night
sky, gorgeous if she had been star gazing instead of being the victim in a
game of Pickle between waves. She sat up, pain wrenching in her back as she
realized that the rocks were also in her shirt, not just on the sand which she
had been lying on. Then, blinking the sting away from her eyes, she turned
around to her side.
Curled up in a ball was the shivering form of Giles, Buffy's dog. "Gripes,
could this get any weirder?" Faith asked, wondering if she should kick the dog
awake. Instead, she just reached over and nudged his head a little.
Giles' eyes instantly flashed open, and with one look at Faith, bounded up.
Her earlier appearance of being dead had frightened him very much, and now he
was overjoyed that he had a friend in this strange place that he had been
dropped off in. He barked happily, and then placed his front paws on her
stomach, trying to reach up and lick her face, but Faith shoved him away.
"Stupid dog, let me find out what kind of mess we're in here!" she
reprimanded him. She was never fond of animals, except for Xander the beagle.
Eventually, though, she had given Xander the beagle away for adoption, because
beagles weren't the ideal pets for travelling conditions. Maybe she'd get a
husky and name it after Willow or something, considering the dog was female.
She was thinking about that as she surveyed her surroundings. She was on a
little strip of beach, very, very tiny, and surrounded by thick walls of the
kind of grass that grew around the beach. Grumbling, she began to climb the
walls, noticing that Giles was eagerly falling in step.
"When I find out where we are," she told the dog as they climbed, "the second
thing I want to know is how the hell you got here. Then I'll ask about
myself."
In return, Giles sneezed. Had the dog gotten sick? He didn't look wet, but
she didn't look that wet either and she had gotten a good dunk in the sea.
After she found out where they were, they should find shelter and dry
themselves off. Possibly with a towel lying around, one that some beach-going
freak had left behind.
God, why did people go to the beach? The sand always got in everything and
anything, the sun was a killer, and the ocean was always after you. Not even
counting the man-o-wars and jelly fishes and sharks and all those other things
in the deep. Faith had never been scared of anything; she'd always been the
tough girl, never believing in monsters under her bed, never afraid of
confronting the beyond. But the ocean was another thing entirely-her one true
childhood fear that had carried itself onward into her adulthood.
When she got over the ridge, she recognized nothing. This land, these
buildings . . . all foreign to her. She peered closer, using her enhanced
sight, and spotted a couple nuzzling each other on the other strip of beach.
As Giles nudged her in her side, she pushed his head away and climbed out of
the hole, dragging the golden retriever along with her as she made her way
towards the couple.
When she got there, the boy was busy sticking his tongue down the girl's
thorat, and Faith had to clear her throat several times before they noticed
she was there. The girl, who was topless, quickly wrapped a beach towel around
her upper self as the boy jumped up with a flashlight and shined it on Faith's
face.
"Who are you?" he demanded, the fright in his voice not enabling him to sound
in charge of the situation.
"Your conscience," Faith snapped, not the best of moods. She put her hands on
her hips and passed a look between the couple. "How old is that girl, anyway?"
"Fifte-hey, why do you want to know?" he said angrily, cutting himself off
before he revealed that he was with a minor. The flashlight was still in
Faith's eyes, and she shielded her gaze with one hand.
"I told you: I'm your frickin' conscience. And I want to know where the hell
we are. Mind telling me?"
The boy seemed hesitant to answer, but the girl, wanting very much to get rid
of this woman, quickly spoke up. "Sunnydale Public Beach," she said in a small
voice, embarrased at being caught mid make-out session.
Faith's icy glare crumbled into an expression of unbelieving shock. "No way,"
Faith said immediately, shaking her head furiously. "No way is this place
still open to the public. No one's allowed anywhere near Sunnydale, or even
the surrounding towns. Jeez, do you know what risk you guys are taking, being
here on the beach and all that??" Faith was goggle-eyed.
The couple looked at her, and then laughed. "You're crazy," said the guy,
flicking his flashlight off. "We live in Sunnydale, lady. We can definitely be
where we are."
Faith eyes widened even more. The only things that lived in Sunnydale were,
well, *things*. And these people, *people*, were not things. They were very
much human, and very much not afraid, and very much confusing her.
"Ok, what's going on?" Faith said. "Have I, like, been suddenly transported
to another dimension or something? Back in time? What? What year is this?"
They continued looking at her like she was a loony. Maybe she was. "1998,
lady," said the guy, fingering his flashlight again. "And now that you know
that, can you leave?"
1998? Huh? *What* was going on? "Uh," Faith managed, and then composed
herself. Obviously, this had to deal with that prophecy her last Watcher had
vaguely told her about. "Gimme a towel."
"Lady, the one towel we got is on my date over there." The guy jerked the
flashlight over to his date, who was blushing and pulling the towel up higher
to conceal cleavage. "Why the hell are you swimming without a towel? And why
the hell in your clothes?"
"Don't ask questions," Faith growled. "You'll exhaust yourself. Just give me
the towel and ask your kiddy date to cover herself with that t-shirt of hers
that is lying around *somewhere* were you guys tossed is away in the throes of
passion. And if you give me that towel, I won't report you to Sunnydale
Police." Yeah, if they were telling the truth and if there still *was* a
Sunnydale Police Department.
"Here," the girl said quickly before her date could speak for her. She tossed
the towel at Faith and then covered herself with her arms. Faith took the
towel and started to walk away, drying her hair and mumbling thanks to the
strange couple.
"Hey, wait!" called the girl. Faith turned around. "Where's your dog?"
Faith's jaw dropped, and then she looked to her side and around everywhere.
Giles was no where to be seen. "Damn," she cursed, gritting her teeth. Then
she set out at a fast pace towards Sunnydale, and she would hopefully run into
that mutt along the way.
//**\\
He couldn't get that day with Buffy out of his mind.
It was a Christmas miracle, truly. He had planned to kill himself, planned to
totally annihilate his worthless, evil being, but the sun had not risen
because of snow. Snow in Southern California. Obviously, there was some
otherworldly intervention in this.
So, as he did his own nightly rounds around Sunnydale, he thought about how
he had spent that day. It was wonderful; whenever he saw Buffy, it was only
for that short period of time during the night. Now, he had the opportunity to
spend the whole day with her, and they enjoyed it to the fullest. Nothing like
playing in the snow to cheer any suicidal person up.
Now, though, they were staying apart, swearing there would not be another day
like, holding hands and being together and contemplating kisses. No, it was
dangerous to be tempted like that, to dangerous to ever fall in love again. It
was very clear as to what the consequences would be.
Buffy . . . completed him. Made him feel human. Made him feel whole. Every
day of his undead life was plagued by thoughts of her, and he was almost
certain that Buffy was experiencing the same thing. Could they deny their
passion? Could they keep away from each other, even if they knew the
consequences? Could they not . . .
Angel didn't finish that sentence in his mind, though very clear memories of
that night flashed through his mind. It was his most happiest moment-he
shivered with happiness just thinking about it. This was dangerous. This could
no longer continue.
He kept *telling* himself that . . .
Suddenly, his hyper-sensitive, preternatural hearing picked up a soft moaning
sound. Moving like a shadow between the tombstones and the grave plots, angel
quickly hurried to wear the moaning was coming from.
There was a figure, a figure dressed in a long red nightgown, strewn across a
freshly dug plot. For a second he thought she was a vampire, and then Angel
realized that he did not sense her as one of his kind. She was very human, but
with a strange . . . scent, of sorts. At least to him.
Since she was human, she was most likely in trouble. Angel leaned over and
brushed her red hair out of the way, exposing her neck. He was expecting bite
marks, but there was nothing. The neck was clean.
Even stranger. Angel slid his hand under the woman's body, grabbing a firm
hold around the waist. Gently, in case she had any broken bones, he turned her
over. Her long red hair still covered her face. Angel gently brushed it away,
and the female stirred.
Angel would have drawn his breath in sharply, if he had breath. Instead, he
mimicked the motion as he stared at the face. The recognizable face. "Willow?"
The woman stirred once more at the mention of the name. Angel looked on in
amazement as she opened her eyes and looked up dreamily into his face.
"Where am I?" she asked, reaching up to rub her eyes. Then she frowned and
looked up. "You're not Oz . . ." she said quizzically, yet not really grasping
what she was saying. Then she recognized the face that was staring back at
her.
"Oh joy," Willow said, her eyes rolling up in her head once more, and she
went limp in Angel's arms.
////****\\\\ End of Part B ////****\\\\
OK, what's this about the list ending or something? Feedback is wanted, too.
~Shadows~
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 6 Jan 1999 21:42:17 -0600 (CST)
From: Jill Kirby <jtkirby@mcs.net>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Admin: Note on posting stories
We'd asked people to post no more than three story parts per day, so the list didn't get overburdened.
However, with the list ending as of January 23, if you have a story to post-- post away, and just use common sense about the number of posts you send (for example, if it's a 50 part story, please break it up at least a <little> bit!).
Jill
Jill Kirby ~~ jtkirby@mcs.net
www.geocities.com/SoHo/Lofts/4107
"Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the
center. Big, undreamed of things - the people on the edge see them
first. I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over."
