From: buffyfic-owner@xmission.com (buffyfic Digest) To: buffyfic-digest@xmission.com Subject: buffyfic Digest V1 #30 Reply-To: buffyfic@xmission.com Sender: buffyfic-owner@xmission.com Errors-To: buffyfic-owner@xmission.com Precedence: buffyfic Digest Tuesday, September 9 1997 Volume 01 : Number 030 In this issue: BUFFYFIC: "The Book" (1/1) by D.Spence BUFFYFIC: Little Xander in Slumberland 1/1 by JJ BUFFYFIC: Reflections: W.I.F. (03/?) by D.Spence BUFFYFIC: Gone 3: The God of Nine Walls 7/? by JJ See the end of the digest for information on subscribing to the buffyfic or buffyfic-digest mailing lists and on how to retrieve back issues. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 7 Sep 1997 21:28:16 -0400 (EDT) From: dalton.spence@hwcn.org Subject: BUFFYFIC: "The Book" (1/1) by D.Spence TITLE: The Book AUTHOR: Dalton S. Spence EMAIL ADDRESS: DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only or posted in fanfic archives for general distribution, but must include all disclaimers and copyright notices. SPOILER WARNING: Occurs the morning after "Prophecy Girl" RATING: PG CONTENT WARNING: This story ends with a truly terrible pun. If endings of this nature disturb you, you may wish to read something other than this story. CLASSIFICATION: CH - Crossover with Reality, Humor SUMMARY: A lost book finds it's way to the library from a very unusual place. DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Giles, the Slayerettes and all other characters who have appeared in the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, 20th Century Fox Television and the Warner Brothers Television Network. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. "The Book" by Dalton S. Spence Everything is relative. Even reality. At the side of a certain road in California, not very from Los Angeles, a family has stopped for a picnic lunch. A young girl is about to read the first novelization of her favorite TV series (not realizing the place they have chosen for their meal is spatially coexistent with the setting of the story in a different universe). Suddenly a freak storm blows up out of nowhere, forcing the girl to run for the family's car, dropping the book in her haste to remain dry in the downpour. The storm ends as quickly as it came, but on leaving the car the girl can find no trace of her book. *Sunnydale High School Library* Giles had arrived early that morning to clean up that the mess the previous night's battle had left behind. While Angel had removed the Master's skeleton, the damage still had to be assessed before the janitorial staff arrived Monday morning and made their report to the little dictator. Amazingly enough, none of the book shelves seemed to be badly damaged, but many had been shaken enough to dump their contents on the floor. The fallen books would have to be checked for damage, sorted and reshelved. //Oh well, that's what I get for choosing the cover of a librarian,// he thought with a sigh as he set to work. He was about half way through the debris from the second row of bookshelves when he saw it; facedown among the hardcover textbooks was a slim, dark covered paperback with a red gothic headline over the blurb on the back cover. //Someone must have left their latest novel behind,// he thought as he picked it up to take a closer look. Suddenly he froze in horror as he read the description of the book's contents, and flipped it over to see the title. "Good lord," he said aloud as he stared at it, "this is ... unbelievable!" * * * * * This is where they found him two hours later; sitting in the middle of the aisle between the shelves, with an orderly pile of books on one side and a scattered heap on the other. He had read it through three times already (it wasn't a very large book) and was half way through his fourth perusal. The first rather panicked scan of it was barely remembered, except as confirmation that the book was printed from cover to cover. The second and third readings were much more detailed; a desperate and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to find some evidence that the book was a fraud or a joke, perpetrated by either his enemies or his friends. Having finally accepted that it was what it appeared to be, this last reading was simply a check for accuracy (at least, that's what he told himself) as he considered how best to tell the others of his discovery. But as usual, events took this out of his hands. "I see it, but I don't believe it," came a voice from the end of the aisle, "Rupert Giles, sitting on the floor, engrossed in a paperback novel. Buffy, are you *sure* we averted the apocalypse last night?" Looking up, Giles saw Buffy, Willow and Xander standing there, the latter having spoken. "I don't know," replied Buffy, "I thought I had, but now I'm not so sure. So what is it, the latest effort by Jeremiah Defoe?" At this, Willow inexplicably giggled, but was ignored by the others. After a moment's thought, Giles decided against delaying the inevitable. "Actually, you could consider this a little gift from the Hellmouth," he said, noting with some small satisfaction the looks of consternation on their faces. "Apparently, when it opened up last night it swept along a few small items from neighboring dimensions, including this book. Hopefully, nothing more dangerous came along with it." From a few feet away the book *looked* innocent enough, but Buffy had learned how deceiving appearances could be. "Exactly how do you know it's from another dimension?" she asked. "It's all about us," Giles answered, "or more precisely, it's the novelization of the pilot of a television series about us. It starts the night before Buffy arrived here, and ends the morning after she thwarted the Harvest." Ignoring their stunned expressions, he showed them the cover. Sure enough, there was the title, "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" written in gothic lettering carved in stone, above a picture of the four of them plus Cordelia. "Not a very flattering picture I admit, but it is probably a reduction of a publicity shot." "It looks like we have terminal sunburn," commented Xander, fascinated with the idea that somewhere he was famous. "Ugh," groaned Willow, "I look like I'm wearing *way* too much rouge. Any more, and I could run for hooker of the month." "What about me?" asked Buffy indignantly. "I'm supposed to be the star of the show, and there I am, slouching in front of the rest of you wearing an icky yellow dress I wouldn't be caught dead in. Cordy is the best looking person there, and she wasn't even one of us until last night! And where's Angel? I would have died that night without his warning." "Hey, you know vampires can't be photographed," answered Xander smugly. Seeing his humor was not appreciated he admitted, "Okay, so it's a lousy picture. What are you going to do; go the the other dimension and stake the photographer? Anyway, at least we're a *HIT* series. Let me see," he said, reaching for the book. Giles pulled it back. "Sorry, I'm afraid I'll have to keep it for a while. While most of it is just dialogue or action scenes, some of it is personal observations or private thoughts. I'm sure none of you wants to invade the others' privacy or have them invade yours." Willow paled at the thought. "But ... but ... you've already read it! Just how detailed is it?" "Not very," Giles explained, "and the only thing in there I didn't already know was the Master's name ... Heinrich Joseph Nest. This makes me the natural custodian of the book. While I can't confirm it of course, I suspect the book follows the shooting script of the show very closely. Since the book is classified as young adult, the show probably is too." Buffy's expression suddenly became grim. "You know, I thought after last night, nothing could bring me down any time soon. I should have known better. What you're saying is everything that's happened to me, to *us*, has happened because of a *TELEVISION SHOW?* Is that what you're telling me? That people have *DIED* just to entertain some interdimensional voyeurs?" "It could work the the other way," replied Giles, trying to calm the furious Slayer. "Instead of them influencing us, maybe *WE* are influencing *THEM!* Perhaps this Joss Whedon fellow is receiving images of our exploits through the Hellmouth, and believes they are his own ideas. If he had a hand in casting the show, naturally he would pick actors who resembled the `characters' in his mind." "You don't suppose they really know *EVERYTHING* that's happened to us, do you?" asked a anxious Xander. "You know, like the nightmare thing?" "I doubt it," responded the Watcher carefully. "Unfortunately, if we are projecting images through the Hellmouth, they are probably the most emotionally laden ones. However, if the images he receives are as accurate as the ones in this book, the audience is likely to be rather impressed with all of us. After all, when you think about it objectively, we've done some pretty impressive things." "True," said Xander, only partly mollified. "Still, it's a bit weird, thinking that they could be watching anything we are doing at any time. Maybe they are watching us right now." "I doubt it," said Buffy, "it would much to self referential. Not to mention being a blatant plug for the book." "Not if it were fanfic," interjected Willow helpfully. "I mean, if our lives are a hit show, then we've got to have fans, right? And fans write fan fiction." "Fans," said Xander thoughtfully, "I never thought about fans. Too bad they are in another dimension." "T take it fan fiction consists of amateur stories about the program without official sanction," asked Giles. After Willow nodded, he added, "Sounds rather innocuous, really." "Some of it is," admitted Willow, "but a lot of it can get rather ... twisted. Remember, fan is short for fanatic, which means that their feelings for the show and its characters are by definition somewhat...intense. It used to be confined to fan clubs photocopying some stories, stapling them together and selling them at cost to people at conventions as fanzines, but now it's all over the Internet. It's quite a phenomenon. There was recently an article about it in the New York Times." "But why would an amateur want to write about a professional's work?" asked the puzzled librarian. Willow shrugged. "Admiration? Envy? Maybe just to let others know it's available? Some forums for fanfic have strict rules about what can and can't be posted, so off topic announcements have to be written into stories. Some of the best fanfic I've read recently involved announcements and requests for aid for a popular fanfic archive." "So what you are saying is, someone could be writing about us right now?" asked Buffy. "Just to tell people about that book?" "It's a possibility, I suppose," answered Willow uncertainly. "How could I get him to stop?" Buffy was getting seriously wierded out by this whole conversation. //A TV series I could handle, but fanfic? Why, he could make me ...// She brought her thoughts to an abrupt halt, as she blushed furiously. "You could always threaten to stake him," replied Xander. Seeing Buffy's glare, he quickly added, "Okay, bad idea! What about reading the information about the book aloud, then going to lunch." "That should work," said Buffy. "I can't think anything more boring to write about than people eating." "But it's only ten o'clock!" protested Willow. "Brunch then," said Buffy with finality. "Giles, since you are the librarian, would you do the honors?" Feeling the whole idea was rather absurd, Giles decided to humor his Slayer this once. He read the information from the binding, "Buffy the Vampire Slayer number one. The Harvest. A novelization by Richie Tankersley Cusick. Based on the episodes by Joss Whedon. $3.99 US / $4.99 Canadian. That should be enough, don't you think?" "Probably Giles," replied Xander, "unless you imagine your fans are gasping for more." In response to this comment, the fabric of two universes shuddered, and a low moan sounded from below their feet as the book in Giles' hand crumbled to dust. "What did I say?" asked an astonished Xander. "I think we had better not find out," said Buffy as she headed to the door. "I'm hungry. Let's eat." The other followed her quickly, leaving behind an empty library, and a relieved readership. - -- +-------------------------------------------------+ | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. | | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html | +-------------------------------------------------+ ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 8 Sep 1997 14:08:05 -0400 From: Jesse Jou Subject: BUFFYFIC: Little Xander in Slumberland 1/1 by JJ This is short and sweet and dedicated to Winsor McKay. Title: Little Xander in Slumberland Author: JJ email address: jjou@mail.med.cornell.edu Distribution: With permission of the author Spoiler Warning: No spoilers for any real episode Rating: G Classification: UTB Summary: Those of you who know Winsor McKay's Little Nemo in Slumberland will recognize the tone of this piece. Those of you who don't will think, "what the...?" Disclaimer: I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production companies do. I'm also not making a red cent of any of this, so there's no point in suing me. Little Xander arrived in Slumberland just in time to rescue the Princess Willow from the clutches of the naughty Angelus. "Oh, help me, Little Xander!" the Princess shouted as Angelus made to carry her away. "Ho ho!" said Angelus, drawing on his cigar and blowing a ring of smoke at Little Xander. "You won't stop me, Little Xander! If you try, I'll tell my uncle, the Sun, not to shine at today's Hullhullaberries Festival!" But Little Xander was not scared, raising his fists in the air. "Oh, naughty Angelus! Let the Princess go or it's fisticuffs between us, sure!" At the threat of bodily harm, Angelus quickly set the Princess down. "Heh! I was only joshing." "Do you promise to be good, naughty Angelus?" Little Xander asked, wagging his finger at the wicked boy. "I promise," Angelus said. "And to stop trying to ruin the Hullhullaberries Festival?" "Sure, yeah, I will be good," he whined, mumbling under his breath, "Gets so's a fella can't even josh around anymore." "Since you promised to be good, you may go with us to the Hullhullaberries Festival," Little Xander offered magnaminously. "Hurrah, Little Xander!" The Princess cried, as a giant floating ship came to a stop next to them. "It is the Buffagilly Shippers!" A long plank rolled off the side of the ship and at the top stood Captain Giles, pride of the Slumberland Navy. "Halloo! " he called. "I have been sent to bring you all to the Hullhullaberries Festival!" A pretty young girl came up beside Captain Giles, "I am second-in-command of this fine vessel, First Mate Buffy! Halloo! Hurry, or we shall be late!" The three children ran up the plank, as Little Xander cried, "Oh, mama! We musn't be late for the Hullhullaberries Festival!" Princess Willow looked over the side of the ship as it lifted into the air, "Oh, Slumberland looks small from here!" "Yeh, you've been in one floating ship, you've been in them all!" Angelus noted, puffing on his cigar. Captain Giles stood proudly at the steering wheel, safely navigating the Slumberland skies. "Would you like to pilot the ship, Little Xander?" Little Xander exclaimed, "Oh, may I?" Captain Giles stepped aside as the little boy took the helm. "Oh, Mama is not here to see me pilot this great ship!" Little Xander lamented. "But what does this button do?" he asked, pushing a small red button in the center of the steering column. "Oh, no!" First Mate Buffy shouted. "Oh, no!" Princess Willow shouted. "Heh, Heh!" said naughty Angelus "Oh, hasty Little Xander!" Captain Giles exclaimed. "You've released our stores of Hullhullaberry juice! Now we are falling!" The ship began to nosedive towards the earth below. "Oh, mama!" Little Xander cried, "I am sorry I pushed that button now, sure!" - ---- "Xander!" his mother cried, waking the teenager.from his deep sleep. He blinked at the world around him. "Xander!" she repeated, "Little boys who don't wake up in time for school get no breakfast, yes!" The end ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 9 Sep 1997 06:18:20 -0400 (EDT) From: dalton.spence@hwcn.org Subject: BUFFYFIC: Reflections: W.I.F. (03/?) by D.Spence That loud crack you may have heard about 2200 h EDT yesterday was the sound of thousands of heads beating themselves against a nearby wall in response to the teaser for the season opener. Hopefully it was just deliberately misleading to get us to watch the show. (As if we needed additional incentive.) Does anybody have an aspirin? * * * * * TITLE: Reflections: Warrior...Innocent...Fool AUTHOR: Dalton S. Spence EMAIL ADDRESS: DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only or posted in fanfic archives for general distribution, but must include all disclaimers and copyright notices. SPOILER WARNING: Occurs after "Prophecy Girl" RATING: R - Restricted CONTENT WARNING: This story depicts scenes of violence and/or their aftermath, and a strong love relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read it. If depictions of this nature disturb you, you may wish to read something other than this story. CLASSIFICATION: C - Crossover with Xena: Warrior Princess SUMMARY: When an evil goddess is accidently released from millennia of captivity, she uses her powers to torment the descendants of her enemies -- Buffy, Willow and Xander. Giles must use an ancient Greek artifact to summon the ancestors who defeated her before -- Xena, Gabrielle and Joxer. DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Giles, the Slayerettes and all other characters who have appeared in the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB Network. Xena, Gabrielle, Joxer and all other characters who have appeared in the syndicated series "Xena: Warrior Princess," together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. Reflections: Warrior...Innocent...Fool (a BtVS/X:WP crossover) by Dalton S. Spence Part 3/? *The Master's Secret Vault, 1535 h PDT* "There is a detailed description of a certain conversation that I'm supposed to use to fix the place and point in time. I just hold the crystal like this, concentrate on the scene, and ..." There was a brilliant flash, and where Giles had been standing alone an instant before, he was suddenly surrounded by three oddly dressed strangers who were touching the crystal and each other. "... we're there. Or here. Whatever," Giles concluded calmly, looking about him as if to verify his location. "If my understanding is correct, we should have arrived at the same instant I left." Buffy was (as usual) the first to recover from the shock. "Uh yeah, I guess. What took you so long? I take it these are our ancestors?" The tall, dark haired woman (obviously Xena) took a long hard look at the teenagers, then turned to Giles and asked him in an irritated tone, "Why didn't you tell me they were so ... young?" "You didn't ask?" he responded tentatively. Seeing that was not acceptable, he admitted, "If the truth be told, I hardly ever think of them particularly as `young people' any more. They ARE young of course -- there's no denying that -- but I don't think of them as `BEING' young, if you catch my meaning. I don't think it's possible to `BE' young when you're fighting for your life against monsters and demons. Unfortunately they have been doing quite a lot of that lately." Xena's expression softened. "I understand. In wartime, one grows up quickly or not at all." Xander waved his hand in the air to get their attention. "Excuse me for for interrupting this fascinating conversation, but shouldn't she be speaking Greek or something?" Xena looked at the young man, puzzled. "You mean we aren't?" Gabrielle spoke up. "He's right, Xena. I'm thinking in Greek, but the words come out sounding different, and I'm understanding what's being said as Greek, but the sound of it is all wrong. What gives?" "I bet I know what's happening," Willow said eagerly. "The crystal must be acting as a universal translator. You know, like Star Trek." "Star Trek?" asked Gabrielle. "That's a sh... I mean a series of make believe stories about a ship that travels between the stars seeking out new worlds and new civilizations. A modern myth, you could say." "Oh, you mean sort of like Jason and the Argonauts, except they aren't real." "There wasn't a golden fleece as an ultimate goal, but otherwise that's pretty much it." Turn to the librarian, Willow asked, "Was I right? About the crystal, I mean." "Very close, but what the crystal actually translated was our guests themselves." Giles answered. "According to my instructions, the crystal makes `the mind and the body of the traveller a part of the new times.' Aside for the translation gift, I expect this means they are immune to the new diseases of our time, and no longer carry any ancient or extinct diseases that were harmless to them but we have no immunity to." "Well, that's a relief," Joxer said sarcastically, "I'd hate to come all this way just to make each other sick." Ignoring Gabrielle's muttered comment, he turned to Xander (whom he somehow instinctively recognized as his descendant) and said, "So you're the one who woke up Callisto, huh?" "Hey, it was an accident," protested Xander, "I tripped over some rocks!" Xena placed her hand on Joxer's shoulder. "Joxer, it doesn't matter *WHO* woke her up. The important thing is to get out of this place and start figuring out a way for him to put her to sleep again, this time permanently. By the way, that reminds me. Does anyone know where she is?" * * * * * *The Bronze, 1600 h PDT* While the Bronze was primarily known as Sunnydale's hottest night spot, that didn't mean it was closed until the sun went down. Being well aware of the needs of the community (and the opportunities for profit), the owner opened his establishment from three to six PM on weekdays, and from one to five on weekends to accommodate the after school crowd. In compliance with the local ordinances, the bar was closed but the juice bar and dance floor were open. The crowd was smaller and somewhat quieter, and the mood more laid back, but it was still the Bronze, and the place to be in Sunnydale (if you had nowhere else to go). Sitting alone at a dark corner table well away from the dance floor was a pretty blond woman wearing a too-tight pink halter top, black leather miniskirt, and ornately tooled leather boots, who seemed to be content watching the ongoing activities with both amusement and fascination. Several young men had already approached her asking for a dance, attracted by her aura of seduction and danger. The polite ones were refused with a smile and a wave, but the persistent ones received a chilling glare with her strange pale eyes that gave them an urgent need to be elsewhere. //So this is what a modern tavern looks like,// thought Callisto cheerfully as she sipped the fruit juice she had `convinced' the man at the juice bar to give her. //No matter what else changes, men will always remain the same.// She could have conjured up her drink (as she had the modern clothes) with her powers as a goddess, but she hadn't flirted with anyone in over three millennia, and it was very gratifying to know she still had what it takes. Besides, she was in a very good mood today; she was free, she was beautiful, a goddess in a world that no longer believed in such things and it was only a matter of time before her liberators summoned her enemies for one last glorious battle. Life didn't get any better than this. When she had first burst forth from her imprisonment, she had taken the form of a snow-white hawk, and had soared over the town taking in the sights and slaughtering whatever unwary pigeons crossed her path. What she saw was astonishing; horseless chariots made of metal and glass that travelled at unbelievable speeds, flying ships of the same construction that rose to heights Icarus never dreamed, people (even children) routinely using strange artifacts that seemed at first glance magical but had no aura of sorcery about them. It was all very confusing, but fortunately for her not totally so. As the spell that had bound her had weakened over the years, she had awakened within her stony shell for brief periods, becoming aware of her surroundings and the changes to the world. Her first memory after her battle with Xena was almost eight hundred years ago, when a handsome Belgian crusader had liberated her from the den of an infidel sorcerer who had sought to tap her powers, and had sent her to his home in Brabant. What happened to that knight she did not know, for she never saw him again. For a few centuries she stood as an ornament in the castle's garden; watching the dramas of mortal life being played out around her, receiving the confidences of countless lovelorn maidens who sensed her attention (and somehow imagined it benevolent), dozing for a few decades here and there, and acquiring a fierce hatred of pigeons that was nearly as bitter as the one she held for Xena. Finally the family of the crusader died out, and the castle's contents were sold to a prosperous English merchant, whose family later moved to the New World to exploit it's unlimited opportunities. She remained with that family, learning to loathe and despise them, until a night almost a century ago when she awakened to the sight of dark forms flitting about the garden where she stood, and wonderful sounds from the house of the family crying and screaming for mercy, and apparently receiving none. Her joy somehow communicated itself the leader of these creatures, who strode proudly before her in the moonlight and raised his fearsome visage before her. "Ah, you are pleased, I can sense that," he intoned with a smile that exposed his yellowed fangs. "Good. I had feared that your ability to hate might have been blunted with the passage of time, but instead it seems to have been strengthened and purified. I think we are going to get along just fine." //What went wrong?// she wondered, watching the teenagers writhe around the floor in the controlled convulsions they called dancing, //How did you manage to fail, not once, but TWICE?// The Master (as the others had called him) was the only one who had ever talked to her since the beginning of her curse, knowing both who and what she was. He had explained about the origins and nature of his kind (so much like Bacchi, but so very different too) and his ultimate goal. It had pleased her to think of how the descendants of her enemies would suffer in the ensuing chaos, and he had promised to use the power of the Hellmouth to break the spell and make her his queen. Even though she realized he intended to use her for her power, this still made him the closest thing to a friend she had ever had. On the night he made his first attempt, the earth shook, but instead of the cries of triumph she had been expecting she heard his screams of rage and fustration. It was hours before she heard the hidden door open, and the slow, tired steps toward her told their own story. He looked at her silently for a moment, then let loose a bitter, ironic laugh. "I should have learned from your example, my dear. No one is so powerful that they cannot be undone by treachery. I am now as trapped as you are." He explained how his most trusted lieutenant had inexplicably disrupted the ceremony at the last moment, causing the magics he had been using to open the portal to bind him to it instead. "It will be decades before I can gain the strength to try again. At least I can spare you the wait. Sleep, my lovely, until my destiny is fulfilled." She allowed his spell to take hold, and had known nothing more until she had awoken half an hour ago. So much for destiny. With a sigh she put down her glass and got up from the table. //I'm not doing myself any good thinking about it. He's gone, and I can't bring him back.// Ignoring the disappointed frowns she left behind, she opened the door and stared into the afternoon sunshine. Then she smiled. "Or can I?" <-- to be continued --> Author's Note: NEED FEEDBACK! Particularly plot ideas. 8-] - -- +-------------------------------------------------+ | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. | | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html | +-------------------------------------------------+ ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 9 Sep 1997 20:37:54 -0400 From: Jesse Jou Subject: BUFFYFIC: Gone 3: The God of Nine Walls 7/? by JJ Here's part 7. Not much happen except a lot of angst and some colorful language (nothing R-rated though). :-) Feedback is always welcomed. JJ Title: Gone 3: The God of Nine Walls Author: JJ email address: jjou@mail.med.cornell.edu Distribution: With permission of the author Spoiler Warning: No spoilers for any real episode Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Mild language. Classification: UTB Summary: Both Anya's Gone... and my Gone II can be found on the Slayer's Fanfic Archive. I would recommend reading the previous stories, but all you really need to know is that Willow was turned into a quasivampiric killer by the Anointed One and had to leave Sunnydale after her death was faked. Buffy and Xander grieved, finding out their friend was lost to them forever. Disclaimer: I don't own these characters except for the ones who haven't shown up on the show; Joss Whedon, the WB, and their associated production companies do. Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations is the invention of my evil twin sister, Lisa Rose. I'm also not making a red cent of any of this, so there's no point in suing me. Part 7 In room 226 of the Holiday Inn, Hecate plopped down onto her bed and rolled around tiredly before clicking on the television. Forcing the boy to surrender the necklace had taken more energy than she had wanted to use and her temple throbbed with a dull ache. He had voluntarily told her where to look for the vampire, although he couldn't promise she would find him. Nevertheless, it was a start. Looking up at the ceiling, she checked her messages: a small circle in Florida implored her aid in warding against a poltergeist that was tormenting a member's child, a twenty-something Neopagan had swore lightly with her name after dropping a can on his toe, an international group of technopagans raised a cone of power in the mid-Atlantic during an online chat session and released it in her name. She noted with some amusement that not all of them had honored the group's decision to perform the ritual skyclad. She sent the appropriate blessings to the group dealing with the poltergeist. More than she had to, really; the Florida coven had also invoked Erishkigal and the Morrigan. "But what have those two done lately?" she observed in her best Homer Simpson voice. "Nuthin' for no one." She snickered at her little joke. It had been so much easier when George was alive. He kept her stuff, including her power. And now she was scrambling around the earth, reclaiming the things that had been hers, trying to avert the end of life as she knew it. George had died quietly, in his sleep, five years ago, and in the magickal world this was a better way to go than as a stain on the ground, but she mourned him genuinely and missed him still. "...decapitated..." The Asian woman on on the television caught her attention. She rolled onto her stomach, resting on her elbows as she turned up the volume. "...City Hall has refused to comment on this grisly tragedy that has happened in its own backyard. Police refuse to release all the details of the murder, although the cameras did see the coroner flee the scene, apparently very distraught. Following the tragic killing of Melissa Jackson, this daylight assault on City Hall itself raises the important question 'When will the madness end?' I'm Erin Li, Warner News..." Hecate turned the television off. It was happening too fast. She had to find the vampire tonight. - --- Willow carefully came out of the bathroom. The antacid had helped to settle her stomach, but the general ache in every muscle of her body persisted. The Anointed One was dead. She was certain of it. She tried to observe her emotions with clinical distance: part of her was ecstatic at his death, another furious as she had to let go of her complicated revenge fantasies, and strangely, a small part of her was regretful. She couldn't forgive him for what he had done to her, but her life since the change had been rich with excitement and meaning. With the powers she had gained, she felt she had made a positive impact on the world, an impact that a mortal Willow would have lost through age or marriage or exhaustion. She heard a car door slam outside. It was Xander. She could feel him in her bones, and it gave her a thrill that made her canines ache. As he came through the door, she straightened up, adjusting the pretty dress she had thrown on, masking her discomfort as she rushed to embrace him. He returned her embrace less enthusiastically. "What's wrong?" she asked, her smile fading. He looked at her sadly. "Nothing. It was just a rough day." "Poor baby," she said, reaching up to rub his temples. He pulled away suddenly, avoiding her eyes as he headed into the kitchen. She followed him. "Are we still going for a drive? It's almost Christmas and you don't have a tree up or anything. I thought we could go..." "Sure," he said curtly, washing his hands in the sink. He turned to face her, but something in the garbage can caught his eye. Gingerly, he picked up the white plastic bag on top and looked at it. Through the plastic he could see the label on the empty blood pack inside. He looked from the bag to her. She watched him carefully, trying to gauge his mood. She remembered his mercurial temperament from high school and how carefully she used to tread around it. "I got hungry," she explained, uncertain of his response, trying not to let the girlhood crack in her voice appear. He stared at her evenly for a second, then turned away, tossing the bag back into the trash. "You really are different now, aren't you?" he asked quietly. "I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" she asked, suddenly feeling sixteen years old again. "You didn't ask me about your necklace," he said, his voice bitterly happy. "What?" "Your necklace. Don't you want to know what I found out?" he asked, the smugness in his voice growing. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "Actually," he began, "I didn't find out anything. I gave it away." Now she was shocked. "Why?" she sputtered. Damn it. He was going to ruin everything. "I had a visitor. She said it was hers and I gave it back to her. She said she knew you. Maybe you know her? Her name's Hecate." The accusation in his voice struck her like a hammer to the face. She struggled to keep her face neutral, but he could sense her answer. "Yeah, that's what I figured," he stated, starting to walk away from her. "Let me explain," she said, feeling the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. He wheeled violently on her. "Yes. Why don't you explain? Why don't you tell me why you're here? Why don't you tell me why you're pulling me back into this cloak & dagger crap?" "You know why I'm here," she offered weakly. "No, I don't! I thought I did..." he exploded. "Xander, please," she begged. He stopped. "That's the first time you've called me by my name," he said, slowly. "Since you've been back, that's the first time. My god, I haven't called myself 'Xander' in years." Seeing him calm down, she approached him slowly, "Xander..." she said soothingly. He knocked her hand away, reflexively. She stood there, watching his conflicted emotions as her own anger grew. "Why don't you tell me you never want to see my pasty face again?" she suggested, poisonously. He looked at her incredulously, "You're not going to throw that back at me?" "If you want to act like we're still in high school, why not?" she said. "You dumb bastard. You may have gotten smarter in the last 18 years, but you haven't gotten any wiser. Of course, I'm not the same person I was 18 years ago. I'm not some eternal sixteen year old who's been carrying a torch for you all this time. You aren't doing me any favors by bestowing your affection at this late date. *And I am not some mirror to reflect your greatness back at you.*" Xander was flabbergasted. "I never said you were..." "It's not always about you, you know. You're just a selfish, mean...Jerk!" she shouted. "At least I'm not a bloodsucking liar!" he retorted hotly. She screamed and slapped him roughly. There was an eternal pause as Willow realized what she had done. Xander stood there frozen; he could feel how deeply her nails had scratched his cheek, and the hot wetness that began to ooze out. "Oh, my god, Xander," she said, rushing to him and tilting his head to slow the flow of blood. He struggled to break away from her, but she was stronger and led him back over to the sink. She wetted a paper towel and applied it against his cheek. He refused to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Please don't hate me." There was a long silence, the two of them standing together in the kitchen, her hand pressed against his cheek, before he finally looked down at her and managed ruefully, "How can I hate you? I love you. I just don't get you." - --- End Part 7 ------------------------------ End of buffyfic Digest V1 #30 ***************************** To subscribe to buffyfic Digest, send the command: subscribe buffyfic-digest in the body of a message to "majordomo@xmission.com". If you want to subscribe something other than the account the mail is coming from, such as a local redistribution list, then append that address to the "subscribe" command; for example, to subscribe "local-buffyfic": subscribe buffyfic-digest local-buffyfic@your.domain.net A non-digest (direct mail) version of this list is also available; to subscribe to that instead, replace all instances of "buffyfic-digest" in the commands above with "buffyfic". Back issues are available for anonymous FTP from ftp.xmission.com, in pub/lists/buffyfic/archive. These are organized by date.