ftp.xmission.com/2014.06.ftp.xmission.com.tar/ftp.xmission.com/pub/lists/buffyfic/archive/v03.n019

Internet Message Format | 1999-01-14 | 29KB

From: [e-mail] (buffyfic-digest)
To: [e-mail]
Subject: buffyfic-digest V3 #19
Reply-To: $SENDER
Sender: [e-mail]
Errors-To: [e-mail]
Precedence: bulk


buffyfic-digest       Thursday, January 14 1999       Volume 03 : Number 019



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (4b/?)
       BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (4a/?)

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: Fri, 15 Jan 1999 01:14:44 EST
From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (4b/?)

Title: Can't Hide the Past
Author: Shadows
E-mail: [e-mail]
Feedback: Please?
Rating: PG-13 to R
Disclaimer: Characters seen on the Idiot Box belong to Joss Whedon & the WB
Distribution: Just ask for permission
Summary: 15 years after my own season 3 finale, the characters of BtVS find
themselves thrown back together under unusual circumstances.
Note: The last episode that I have seen is "Amends". I will follow the show
from up to there, and then it's my playground.

*****

    "Okay . . . what exactly is going on here?"

    This was definitely not his balcony, not his house, and not even *Mexico*.
Or, maybe, it was. Just an underground part.

    This place was dark and gray and full of dust. As Oz ran his long, thin
fingers across the wall, the plaster crumbled at the touch of his fingertips.
The whole place was rotting away, and a distinct smell was in the air . . .
matchsticks? Yes, but faintly. Old, used matchsticks, and the fire that
resulted from it.

    But this was not the only familiar smell. Oz, using his werewolf sense of
smell, could detect the residual emotions left in this place, just like Willow
could use her empathy to know who was the last owner of whatever she held in
her hand. He could smell, in this small hole that he was, he could smell fear,
panic, a tang of death, betrayal, and remorse. Pretty powerful smell for such
a small place, and such a strong imprint.

    Then Oz smelled something else. "Willow?" he whispered aloud, noticing her
scent on the dead air. There was no answer, for the scent was stale. Stale and
old, and strange, yet familiar. Something was up.

    Up . . . Oz walked over to where he saw a hole in the ceiling, and looked up.
Through the jagged opening he could see another ceiling, not too far away, and
the faint outline of stairs. He was under the stairs. Plaster cracked under
his feet as he stood on tiptoe and tried to peer over the hole, in case there
was something there to surprise him that had the ability to trick him. But
there was no one there that he could see. He would have to take a risk.

    He was just about to spring up there when he heard a shriek from behind, and
he jumped right out of the hole without even thinking. He caught his left foot
on a sharp edge of the hole, and he fell flat on his face. Getting up on his
elbows, he dragged himself up to his knees and crawled as close as he could to
the hole.

    He looked down, and as soon as he saw who had shrieked, dropped back into the
hole.

*****

    She was just going to tell Xander about a doodling Annie had done the other
day (she had drawn a wonderful picture of the whole family that was so
lovingly detailed for a three-year-old) when she felt his hand grow icy. Now,
it was cold outside, with it having snowed only a morning ago, but one of
things that she loved about Xander was that he was always warm, no matter what
temperature. She had turned from looking at the stores on the other side of
the road to tell Xander to put on his gloves when she noticed that he had
disappeared, and that she was lying down on the ground with a tremendous
headache.

    Cordelia blinked and stretched her face, trying to lift her head off of the
floor. Her hair had come undone from its high, fancy bun, and the shoulder-
length chocolate-colored strands stuck to her scalp in sweat. She reached a
hand up to the back of her head to see if there was blood, if she had hit
anything.

    When she felt no dampness, she lay her head back down and turned to the
right. She found herself staring at her rusty reflection.

    "Wha . . ." Cordelia started, propping herself up on her elbows quickly. The
blood rushed to her head, either of the sudden change in position or because
of the sudden fright that overtook her. As she stared at the pole in front of
her, the pole that still had dried blood in all the right places, she
shrieked.

*****

    "Cordelia, it's me, Oz!" he called as he slid down underneath the stairs.
Cordelia was sobbing now, and as soon as Oz came near her she attached herself
firmly to his body. "Oh God," she mumbled, burying her head in his shoulder.
Oz, glad that she didn't question what he was doing here or where here was,
wrapped his arms around her and hummed soothingly, something he did when
Willow got like this.

    "It's ok, it's ok . . ." he sang softly. He wondered about Willow, but right
now he had to worry about Cordelia. "What made you scream?"

    Cordelia pulled back from him and looked at him. Her body language and
expression read "stunned." "That," she said, turning around and pointed with
one shaking finger towards the pole in the center of the room. "That pole. I
was . . . impaled on that pole. I . . ." She didn't finish her sentence, just
stared at the pole in silence.

    Oz looked at it. He couldn't smell the blood, and that worried him. Maybe it
was all the dust in the room. But then a bigger worry hit him.

    "We're in the factory," he said, surprised the words were even leaving his
mouth. He thought it wouldn't work, considering the total chaos his mind was
currently undergoing.

    "The factory?" Cordelia asked, her voice thick because her tongue only moved
slightly. "But how the . . . I mean, is it . . . what's going on, Oz?" she
asked. "What am I *doing* here." She turned towards him, her eyes dancing in
fright. "What are *you* doing here? How, why did we get here?"

    "I don't know," Oz answered truthfully, "but I think that if we go up
*there*," he pointed to the hole's opening, "then we might find out."

    "But the factory is in Sunnydale," Cordelia said, her voice a soft panic.
"And you know how Sunnydale is. Five seconds outside and we're the victims of
a vampire suckfest. Uh-huh." She shook her head fiercely, and the strands of
her hair flew free from her scalp. "I'd rather stay here."

    "Would you like me to go up there or do you want me to stay up here?" Oz
asked, walking over to Cordelia and putting an arm on her shoulder. Cordelia
raised her hand to meet his, and they smiled at each other. Oz was so sweet
and considerate, and she was happy that he and Willow had gotten back together
and everything. Back together even after that pushing-everybody-away thing she
went through after Sunnydale had gone down in ashes.

    "I don't know," Cordelia said, tightening her hold on his hand. "But you're
the one with the super-hyped senses. You tell me, wolf-guy."


*****


    Oz was in the front seat, hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel, which
had become slipping from his sweat. Next to him, in the other front seat,
Willow said with her hands in her lap and staring at the window. Each of them
were to uncomfortable to look at each other, much less sneak some looks in
their general direction. The fact that Oz was called the Factory the place he
most hated weighed incredible guilt on Willow's part and unpleasant memories
on Oz's part. And he thought he had gotten over the whole jealous-of-Xander
thing, and then Willow had to turn around and go do *that* with Xander. Oz
sighed outloud.

    "Are we there yet?" F-Xander called from the back, where he was scrunched up
against a stack of old records, covered in black cloth and some stale Dorito
chips Oz had eaten back there and forgotten to clean up. Next to him sat his
younger self, who kept staring at his older self. F-Xander tried to ignore
him.

    "Almost," Oz answered in an odd voice. Willow shifted in her seat and stared
out the window a little bit harder.

    "You sound like an impatient little kid," F-Willow told him, her voice clear
in Oz's ear because she was propped up against his seat. Next to her sat
Buffy, who had come along in case any vampire activity showed up. "Are you
*that* anxious to get there?"

    "No," F-Xander said with all seriousness. "You know what happened there."

    Willow frowned. "Hmm," she grumbled, musing over something.

    There was a pause, and then F-Xander turned towards Xander. "So what's up?"
he asked, not wanting to make F-Willow feel too uncomfortable.

    Xander looked back at him, his gaze not wavering. "You mean you don't know?"
he asked, his voice a bit icy.

    F-Xander shrugged. "I suppose I do," he said, then look at F-Willow. "Guess I
forgot."

    F-Willow leaned towards her younger self and stage-whispered, "He's
forgetting things because he's getting old." Then she giggled and wiggled her
eyebrows at F-Xander.

    "I am not old!" F-Xander said indignantly. He looked around, and as he
knocked his shoulder on the stack of old records, the few Doritos fell in his
lap. He picked one up and threw it at F-Willow. "Am not."

    "Are too!" F-Willow shot back, and then bent over to pick up the chip, which
had landed at her feet. She gathered it with her fingers and then threw it at
F-Xander, hitting his stomach. "You are *so* old. You can't even hit me!"

    She was answered by a Dorito right between the eyes. "Am not."

    "Are too!" Dorito to the chest.

    "Not!" Dorito to the chest, sliding into the bodice of her nightgown.
Laughter. "I do have good aim, don't I?"

    At that comment, F-Willow extended her leg and kicked F-Xander's foot "Say
that in front of Oz, and he'll beat you up," she warned playfully, settling
back into her seat. F-Xander put on an expression of mock horror.

    {I'd better} Oz thought angrily, and then realized that they were in front of
the Factory. His foot slammed down on the brake pedal, and all of the van's
occupants lurched forward.

    "What was that?" Buffy demanded angrily. Something that once was a hat had
slid off F-Xander's stack and landed on her head. She peeled it off and put it
on the floor next to her. Oz didn't turn around, just turned the key and off
went the engine. He climbed out of the car, muttering "Sorry" loud enough for
them to hear.

    "That was wrong," F-Xander said as everyone else stayed in the van. "That
*felt* wrong." F-Willow threw another Dorito at him, giggled that he had
better shape up, and then crawled across the van to open the doors.

    As the van door opened and everyone tumbled out, Oz went around back for a
moment to collect himself. Sure, he felt emotions, just like any other human
being did. But he was *not* good at showing them, or more close to the target,
he was afraid of showing them. Like that little scene just now in the van,
when he had slammed down on the brakes in anger. What if someone had gotten
hurt? What if *Willow* had gotten hurt?

    {I wish Xander would get hurt. I wish I could hurt him as bad as he hurt me.
I hope he never sees Cordelia again, because he deserves to be without her. He
deserves to be alone. Now that would hurt him.}

    "Oz?" He turned around to see Willow right next to him. Her voice was
quavering. "can we talk?"

    "Uh, is there time?" Oz asked. On the other side of the van, someone was
slamming the doors shut again.

    "Short talk," Willow assured him. Then she averted her eyes, settling on the
ground. "So this is the spot you most hate?" she asked softly, half-knowing
the answer Oz would give her.

    "Well, we'd, uh, have to go inside and see." Oz could see that the answer
didn't cut it for her. "Look, Willow, I'm not hating you. I mean, I could
never hate you. 'Cause your . . . well, your Willow, and I love you.

    "But, I do hate Xander, and I hate what you did. That hurt me a *lot*. I
mean, I've liked girls before, but I've never *loved* a girl, and I *know*
that's what you I feel for you. Love, is what I feel for you." She was looking
into his eyes again, and now Oz had to push his away. "And I thought you loved
me back, but I'm thinking . . . that while you were cheating with Xander, and
I told you I loved you, and you said it back to me . . . I'm wondering if you
meant it. 'Cause for all I know, you were telling the same thing to Xander.
And the way you two were on that bed." He drew in a sharp breath. "You guys
must've said that to each other already."

    When he looked back, Willow's eyes were brimming with tears. "I do love you,
Oz," she said quietly, "and I keep kicking myself over the head for doing what
I did with Xander. And I can't believe I had the *nerve* to stand like that
and tell you I love you while I was . . . cheating on you. But I know why I
did that." She waited until Oz lifted his head up to continue. "I did that
because I love you, with all my heart and soul and . . . you know, that other
stuff that people say when they're in love. And I thought I had that with
Xander-for such a long time-until you came and showed me what love was really
all about." She gave a little smile. "And you hear what I said. It seems that
we kind of worked things out."

    Oz didn't smile just yet, but he relaxed. "Yeah, I guess so." Then he let out
that sharp breath he had taken. "You know what, Willow? I love you."

    Willow beamed. "I love you too, Oz." And she meant it with all her heart and
soul and . . . that other stuff.

    Now he smiled.

    "Hey, lovebirds?" They turned around to see Buffy standing there. "Um, Xander
and Willow-I guess-are waiting out there for you guys to wrap it up." Her
mouth made one straight line, a sign that meant she was in a hurry. She knew
that once they got Oz, they would have to look for Cordelia next. And then,
last but not least . . . herself.

    Creepy.

    "O-ok," Willow said, nodding her head. "We're there." Oz reached out for her
hand, and she took it. Together they followed Buffy out into the open.

    F-Xander and F-Willow were engrossed in an argument: F-Xander was holding
tightly onto her arm and Willow was struggling to get out of his tight grip.
"Let me *go*, Xander!" she was telling him. "Somebody's got to go in there."

    "Not you. Don't you remember the last time somebody was in there? That person
got impaled."

    "Oh ho, I remember that being under some different circumstances," F-Willow
said, arching her eyebrows and rising on tiptoe so that she looked taller.
"I'm not going to run out of there because I caught my boyfriend cheating with
his best friend."

    "You know, I seem to remember you being a crucial part in that little fix
too."

    "Oh yeah, well, you were a bigger part then me!"

    "Oh really? How so?"

    Willow made an arrogant "hmmf" sound. She made goo-goo eyes at Xander and
made her voice sound young and sing-song. "That we're old, old friends. Just
very good friends who like to hang out, and can I kiss your earlobe?" Both of
them set their jaws at the same time, looking like they were gonna claw each
other's eyes out.

    F-Xander stood his ground. "You're still not going in there."

    "Well then, Mr. Caution Man, since it's so dangerous, who are you gonna send
in there?"

    "I dunno, little Ms. Resort-to-the-Black-Arts. How about Buffy?" F-Xander
suggested, the slightest hint of cruelty evident in his voice.

    Willow's eyes widened and she made an "ah!" sound. "Well, aren't we the
little hypocrite," she started sharply, ready to launch into a lecture.

    Xander and Willow exchanged nervous glances. "Uh," Willow the peacemaker
started, but she was cut off by a sudden, familiar shout of:

    "So this is *Willow's* fault? Why does everything that happens to me in this
Factory has to be because of *Willow*!"

    F-Xander and F-Willow looked at each other, understanding passing between
them, and they both ran into the Factory at once.

    "*Finally*," Xander sighed as he and the rest of the gang followed close
behind.

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

Date: Fri, 15 Jan 1999 01:53:44 EST
From: [e-mail]
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (4a/?)

Title: Can't Hide the Past
Author: Shadows
E-mail: [e-mail]
Feedback: Please?
Rating: PG-13 to R
Disclaimer: Characters seen on the Idiot Box belong to Joss Whedon & the WB
Distribution: Just ask for permission
Summary: 15 years after my own season 3 finale, the characters of BtVS find
themselves thrown back together under unusual circumstances.
Note: The last episode that I have seen is "Amends". I will follow the show
from up to there, and then it's my playground.

*****

    Buffy watched as F-Faith suddenly turned around and realized that Angel was
in the room. In a blur of motion, F-Faith suddenly had Angel pinned up against
the wall, and pulled another stake out of seemingly thin-air. Muttering
something to him, she pulled back her arm and prepared to plunge it in his
heart.

    Uh-uh, not while Buffy was still in the room. Hurrying to her ex's defense,
she ripped F-Faith off of Angel before she could get the job done. Both of
them tumbled to the ground, but F-Faith put her leg under Buffy's, and the
present slayer fell to the floor, hard. F-Faith did a bellyroll and then sat
on top of Buffy, grabbing her by the collar and then leering in her face.

    "What, are you an idiot," she growled. "Are you still trying to protect your
damned little boyfriend. I don't know who I should kill first, him or-"

    "-no one," F-Xander finished up for her and he nudged F-Faith with the toe of
his shoes. Angry, F-Faith bounced back up, her whole demeanor asking for a
fight. "Uh, Faith? As much as I'd like to fight with a Slayer, because you
know how much I enjoy shortening my life expectancy, I propose instead we have
a *talk*," he looked over at F-Willow, "between ourselves before we do
anything stupid or drastic." He let the final word hang heavy in the air as
his dark brown eyes settled back on F-Faith.

    F-Faith scowled at him, but crawled off of Buffy and grabbed F-Xander's
sleeve. "Then we talk," she grumped, looking towards F-Willow. F-Xander raised
his eyebrows in a come-over-here gesture.

    F-Willow looked back at them nervously, and then her eyes darted from the
Gang to Angel, and then back to her fellow visitors from the future. She
gulped and then climbed on top of the table, scurrying across it and the room
to get as far away from anybody that she could possibly be.

    While the threesome made their way to a tiny corner of the library, Buffy
turned to Giles. "So, what's the deal with the time warp?" Buffy asked
brightly, popping up on her heels in a decidedly Willow fashion.

    Giles was focusing on something over Buffy's shoulders-the empty spot where
Angel had stood but seconds ago-but now his eyes focused on the slayer. "Hmm,
time warp," Giles mused, bringing a hand up to his chin. He rubbed it
thoughtfully. "Could be."

    Xander shifted nervously on one foot. "So, uh, can . . ." he shot a look at
where the three adults were discussing in confidence. F-Xander had one
protective arm slung over a trembling F-Willow, and F-Faith, wet and
bedraggled as she was, managed to pull herself together and was looking fairly
foreboding as she reared up on her heels and yelled something angrily at F-
Xander. "Can Willow fix what happened?" It felt strangely odd to be talking
about his best friend as though she were not there. But she was, both aspects
of her. And his other "aspect" was with his arm around her other, and without
even looking Xander could tell that Oz was jealous.

    "We would have to ask her," Giles said, throwing a glance at the trio. F-
Xander was now yelling back at F-Faith, and she had stop her arguing to hear
his argument. F-Willow was clinging on to F-Xander's side, and she didn't look
up to casting a circle, much less gathering her physic energy to peer into the
shadows of the ether.

    "Don't you think I know that?" F-Xander was yelling at F-Faith, and he had
the advantage of being a head taller than her. He looked down at her, and
although F-Faith could lick him if she tried, it was still somewhat menacing.
"If anyone should want to kill him, it should be me. And Willow. And all of
Sunnydale in general. But we're not going to, because we're not going to do
some Hellmouth version of Back to the Future 2. Catch what I'm saying, Faith?"

    "Ok, I get the damn point!" F-Faith yelled back, standing on tiptoe and her
fists clutched at her side. "But I say that if Angelus gets within five feet
of me, I'm staking that son of a bitch, no matter *what*!" F-Faith was so much
into this that the veins on her neck were standing out. "And don't you tell me
otherwise!"

    "Fine," F-Willow said hurriedly, putting one slim hand on F-Xander's chest,
stopping him from lunging forwards towards Slayer #2. "If Angel comes near
you, then you stake him. But don't *you* go near *him*. Don't you go looking
for a fight." She finished off with a comically fierce expression that passed
off as pathetic in her current state.

    F-Faith shook her head, her short mane of wispy black hair fluttering around
her face. She sucked on her teeth and tossed her hair back, stomping away from
F-Xander and F-Willow and over to the table. She crossed her arms angrily and
slammed down into a chair. "The sooner this nightmare is over with, the
better," she hissed through clenched teeth. Then she started patting all the
pockets in her outfit, mumbling about something.

    "You know, sometimes it's like we connect, and then other times it's just
like we completely bounce off each other. She's so pissy. What makes slayers
act as though they have PMS all the time?" F-Xander murmured to Willow as they
made their own way to the table. "Maybe the slaying?" F-Willow suggested,
sitting down next to him as he pulled out two seats, across from F-Faith and
far enough away from their younger selves.

    "Do, you, ah, think you could do the spell now?" Giles asked, fumbling for
his glasses. He looked questioningly at F-Willow, and she stared blankly at
him, gathering her thoughts. Xander cleared his throat loudly, nervously. F-
Willow was clinging to his future self again.

    "Well, I would need, hmm, let us see . . ." she trailed off, staring at the
ceiling. "I would need a bit of salt, or a bit of earth, a cup of water, a
candle-pepper will do, I've found that out, but oh!-" F-Willow's eyes met with
Giles', and she started to shake again slightly. "Of course, you already know
what needs to be laid out on an altar. Really, all I need is some runes to
cast, a crystal ball if you have one or a chalice of red wine, and a stick of
sage to burn." She turned her eyes to floor. "That would be about it, really."

    Suddenly F-Xander gave a yelp and jumped out of his chair, sending it
clattering away to the floor. He back away, one hand on the knee of his left
leg, and staring beneath the table.

    Out materialized D-Giles, whom no one noticed had gone missing. He gave a
passing glance to F-Xander, but then turned around to face F-Willow. He rested
his shaggy golden-haired head on the arm of her chair and stared at her with
his deep, mournful brown eyes. They were nerving, and F-Willow scooted closer
to the other side of her chair. "Yes, that's it," she said detachedly, lost in
the dog's stare.

    "I-I'll get the materials," Willow said, backing towards the book cage where
Giles kept some of her things in stash, in case they ever needed to perform a
quick rite. "I know where they are." She closed the door to the cage behind
her in a hurry as she flung open the place where Giles kept the weapons, and
reached behind a crossbow where the makeshift altar that she had constructed
for Angel's re-souling had laid untounched for awhile.

    "Here's an altar," Willow announced, pulling it out and dusting it off. Her
red hair fell in front of her eyes and she shoved it back again with one hand,
even though the board was so heavy that she had to steady it on her leg to
keep herself balanced. She bumped out of the cage, carrying the altar. "There
are some packets underneath that-"

    "On no!" F-Willow cried out, jumping up and clapping a hand over her mouth,
her eyes opening wide. Willow was so surprised that she dropped the board, and
it made a loud crack as it split evenly in two. As Willow bent down to pick up
the pieces, F-Willow started pacing towards the double doors.

    "Oh my goddess," she whispered, "this is so serious." She turned back to face
the group, hands clutched behind her back. "Don't you see it to? Xander and I
are back here, but that's because Xander cast the spell and then I touched the
book it came from while it was still resonating with magick-"

    "Wait, how do you know that?" Xander asked, but F-Willow continued on over
his comment and no one paid him any mind.

    "-so that's why we're here. But that does *not* explain why Faith and the dog
are here. I mean, that dog is a puzzle onto itself. But we can only assume
that since the four of us are back, then everyone else is too." Her hand
appeared, and they were streaked with red marks from where F-Willow had
pressed down too hard. "That means Oz, and Cordelia, and . . ." she let the
unspoken name hang in the air, and instead concentrated on the floor. "And
other people," she finished up quietly.

    "Then we have to go find them," F-Faith said when nobody else spoke up. "But
where?"

    "Well, let us analyze where we ended up." F-Willow sat down on the floor,
unconsciously crossing her legs yoga-style, as though she was preparing for
meditation. "Faith, you . . .?"

    "Ocean," F-Faith said, hissing through her teeth again. She grabbed a bit of
her hair, which had dried now and was sticky and smelled like salt. She
grabbed a thick chunk between her hands and wrung it out, drops of seawater
falling on the hardwood floor. "The ocean," she repeated again, wiping her
hands on her leather outfit.

    "Ok," F-Willow said, and played around with her tongue, letting it climb up
the walls and roof of her mind. For some reason, it helped her to calm down
and to think. Unfortunately, it also gave her a very grotesque appearance,
most of the time. "And Xander, you?"

    "The library, right where you found me." He put his chin on his hands and
stared at F-Willow oddly. "Did Angel *really* 'save' you?"

    F-Willow rolled her eyes. "Forget the irony right now," F-Willow said. "I'm
just glad someone got me out of there. I hate the cemetery, I mean," he voice
was reduced to the tiniest bit of sound. "You know how I feel about the
cemetery, about what happened there." And then, with that out of her mouth,
she gasped.

    "I have it!" She cried, leaping up. "Again, I mean, I have it again!" She
walked quickly over to F-Faith. "I mean, you're terrified of the ocean,
right?" F-Faith was not one to advertise her fears, and the slayer just stared
back at her with dull eyes. "Ok, don't admit it, but I know the truth." As F-
Willow turned around to walk near to Xander, F-Faith's eyes bore proverbial
holes in F-Willow's head. "And Xander, you were in the library 'cause of . . .
well, you know." She paused uncomfortably.

    "Point?" F-Xander asked, sighing loudly.

    "It means that we all came back to a place that we hated. Faith, the ocean.
Me, the cemetery. You, the library. So basically, all the others are in places
that they hate. So it will be easy to find."

    "That's just grand, Will," F-Xander said, standing up. He pushed that chair
back in and went over to lean heavily on the banister. He wasn't feeling very
good. "But just exactly where are we going to find Oz and Cordelia at? Who
knows where they hate the most?"

    There was a moment of silence. Present and future were consumed with trying
to find out where they would find the others. Then Oz walked over to F-Willow.
He put a tentative hand on her shoulder, and F-Willow felt the touch of her Oz
now, and she wanted to feel it again. She just had to find him and see if he
was ok.

    "Um, I think I might know where I am," he said quietly. Then his eyes made
the slightest flick towards Xander and Willow, and suddenly it clicked with
everyone where exactly they could find Oz.

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

End of buffyfic-digest V3 #19
*****************************

To subscribe to buffyfic or buffyfic-digest, send the command

    subscribe buffyfic-digest

    or

    subscribe buffy

to [e-mail].  You will need to go through a
confirmation process, and the listowners have to manually
approve your subscription request, so it may take some time.

To unsubscribe, send email to [e-mail] with

     unsubscribe buffyfic-digest

     or

     unsubscribe buffyfic

in the body.

Back issues of this digest can be found at:

    ftp://ftp.xmission.com/pub/lists/buffyfic/archive/

Dalton Spence has also provided an index of the buffyfic archive at:

    http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/BUFFYFIC.HTM

For help, contact Jill Kirby ([e-mail]) or sah ([e-mail])