From: buffyfic-owner@xmission.com (buffyfic Digest) To: buffyfic-digest@xmission.com Subject: buffyfic Digest V1 #36 Reply-To: buffyfic@xmission.com Sender: buffyfic-owner@xmission.com Errors-To: buffyfic-owner@xmission.com Precedence: buffyfic Digest Saturday, October 11 1997 Volume 01 : Number 036 In this issue: BUFFYFIC: The Lady Came from Sunnydale BUFFYFIC: Three of Spades (1/1) BUFFYFIC: Cage of the Burning Sun BUFFYFIC: Addicted to Blood BUFFYFIC: ADMIN: List rules BUFFYFIC: Cage of the Burning Sun (Completely Revised) BUFFYFIC: Tallulah (part 1 of about 10 parts, more or less) BUFFYFIC: Tallulah (part 2 of 10 parts more or less) BUFFYFIC: Little Buffy Movie Section! BUFFYFIC: Violent Night BUFFYFIC: Fwd: Fanzine: This is not a threat!! 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: Sat, 04 Oct 1997 12:15:46 -0700 From: Lisa Rose Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Lady Came from Sunnydale The Lady Came from Sunnydale (To the tune of "The Lady Came from Baltimore") The lady came from Sunnydale She owned a gallery place She joked with me that I was pale I wore my human face Chorus: I was sent to kill her daughter Drain her blood and run But I fell in love with Ms. Summers Came away with none Though lady Joyce was always sweet Her daughter killed my kind Joyce didn't know what I must eat It never crossed her mind Chorus She locked her house's doors each night To keep the dark things out She never stopped to see it right That's what I'm about Chorus Her daughter said I was a fiend Who fed on people's blood To Joyce I was a human being I married her for love Chorus (Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose) ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 4 Oct 1997 21:14:30 -0700 From: Elizabeth Ann Lewis Subject: BUFFYFIC: Three of Spades (1/1) The characters and concepts of Buffy the Vampire Slayer are not mine. Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, Sandollar, etc, etc, have all legal and monetary rights. I just get them waking me up at all hours of the morning demanding that I tell their stories, that's all... As always, for the Sunnydale Slayers. This time they shuddered instead of cooing. Praise, flames, chocolate and tall, dark, undead angsty guys to lizbet@primenet.com *~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~* Three of Spades by Elizabeth Ann Lewis England, 1818 Old Nick's Tavern, on the road from London to Dover Billy cursed under his breath at the last of the travelers who stumbled up the stairs, to bed and wives and sleep. They left him the dregs of their bottles, and not enough time to clear their purses of gold. Not nearly enough time. The rich, the idle, the careless poured forth from London, dreaming of the continent, barred to them for so long by a generation of unrelenting war. Their minds were fixed on Greek statues and French women, not on whether the friendly chap they met in a tavern was dealing from the top or the bottom of the deck. Billy made a tidy sum that way, hazing their minds with wine and stealing their gold with cards. It had occurred to him -- often -- that it might have been easier to simply steal their purses outright. Before he had left London -- before he had fled the Town to save his own sorry skin -- he hadn't flinched from doing what needed to be done, whether it was cutting a purse or cutting a throat. But it was more of a challenge, this way. And he hungered for a challenge. Tonight, however, all he hungered for was more. More play, more gold, more wine, more blackness spreading out and out, blanketing him, blanking him. Oblivion was what he sought, wanted until he began to wonder if the opium addict's pipe was truly as disgusting as it looked. All he had were the cards that he restlessly shuffled and reshuffled, their sound a purr in the still night. Out here, on the road, in this filthy tavern, he couldn't make half the money that he had in London. In London they had feared him where he walked the nighttime streets. Here he was affable Billy, charming bloke, always willing for a round of ale and a round of whist. And the charm sickened him until it was a poison eating out his mind. The innkeeper paused his considerable bulk by the cracked table Billy occupied. "Time's up," he said, not unkindly. Everyone thereabouts liked Billy. "Seek your own bed, boy. Get you gone." Billy's hand closed convulsively on the knife he wore beneath his coat. ~One moment. Just one. That's all it'd take. Then his gut would lie open like a fish's and his mouth would gape like one. Just one. Just one...~ The bloodlust didn't haze Billy's mind, but sharpened it. Enough that it wasn't a footstep or a breath of sound that made him aware of the third person in the main room of the tavern -- just feral senses honed to a point that made him look up to meet dark eyes. The newcomer was perfectly positioned to see the knife gleaming, barely slipping free from its sheath, under the table and out of sight of the rotund innkeeper who had no idea how close silver death waited. Not best pleased at having his sport interrupted -- although he knew quite well that in another moment the knife would have gone back into its sheath and he would have gone docilely home, Billy leaned back in his chair, his pose that of the lord of the manor, master of all he surveyed. The night might not yet be lost. Anyone fool enough to travel at night when the highwaymen lurked was fool enough to fall into a game of cards with him. And he was a rich one, too. His clothes were tailored close to his body in a fit that screamed of wealth, the fabric finer than anything Billy had touched in his wretched lifetime. A gold watch gleamed at the brocade waistcoat, and a silver ring winked from his hand. A fob, a dandy, and a fool. Billy smiled, not even bothering to hide the predatory intent that prompted him. He'd be dining well tomorrow. The innkeeper bustled over to his new guest, full of self-importance and fawning desire for his lordship's comfort. Even if his guest was not a lord, it never failed to make the gentry more generous to be called such. With three words and a sweet smile, the newcomer had the innkeeper stumbling back, his florid face gone white with fury or fear -- or both? Swinging the cloak from his shoulders, the dark man crossed the room to sit at the table with Billy. Restlessly, the cards continued their endless shuffling song, a pitch that raised and lowered, raised and lowered. "Care for a game?" Billy asked casually, ignoring the sting of sweat that had broken out on his body. Half of it was from pure covetousness, wanting the rich fabrics, the gold, the easy life. And half of it was from wondering if he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing in the stranger's eyes. He'd seen a man go mad, once, seen it happen right before him. And the eyes... had gone calm, tranquil as the man had used a broken bottle to tear a man to pieces. Very clear, very sure. "I'm always ready for a game -- if the stakes are high enough." A cultured voice, carefully trained to sound precisely as it was meant to sound. Billy's senses sharpened again. He'd heard voices like that before, when those who had clawed their way out of the muck had tried to ape gentile manners. For hours the cards kept up their steady fall, gleaming ivory on the dark wood. Ladies danced and bowed to kings -- and fell, when it suited the king's pleasure. Billy's pleasure was of a different kind, gold and gold and more gold piling up before his hands. So much gold, a bright, shiny mass... his eyes dazzled in its reflection until he could see nothing but its glorious sunlit color. Blinded by light, he did not notice when the gold began to disappear. It wasn't until the stranger tossed a handful of coins into the pot and called to see his cards that Billy realized that he didn't have enough to match his opponent's bet. With a shock that chilled him to his soul, he realized he'd lost every ha'penny that he had won from the weak, foolish fop, and every penny of his own besides. Billy's breath began coming in puffs, each exhalation a denial of reality. "No... how did you... it can't... I can't..." "Ah." One short word sliced through Billy's burgouing hysteria. Damn his black eyes, he hadn't even broken into a sweat. "Well, then. Shall I propose one final game?" "I told you, I haven't got any more," Billy said fiercely. "And why would you want it? You don't need money." "Who said we would be playing for money? Here's the rules: we each pull one card out of the deck. I'll shuffle, if you don't mind. You pull the high card, and you can take anything of mine you wish. I pull the high card -- and I can take anything of yours." Billy's eyes narrowed as he watched his opponent across the table. He'd seen some perversions in London -- participated in some, if the truth be told -- and yet that wasn't what the gentleman had in mind. Billy didn't know what his opponent wanted from him -- or with him. But he did know what he would take if he pulled the high card: everything. And he knew what he had to lose if he pulled the low: nothing. Grinning, Billy handed the deck over to his dark-haired opponent. "Whatever you want, mate." Long-fingered hands were surprisingly dexterous with the aging deck, shuffling and blending the pasteboard with ease. In a few moments, a fan spread out on the table between himself and Billy. "Pick a card," he invited. With a hesitance he didn't quite understand, Billy slid one card from the rest of its kind and flipped it over. The three of spades. Unless Billy got very, very lucky, he'd lost the bet. With a quick moment in the dim light, a hand flashed out and turned over another card. The king of hearts, with his axe held at the ready. For a moment, in the uncertain light, Billy thought he saw the bloodred heart bleeding across the card. Before he could blink to clear his sight, the card disappeared, along with the rest, along with the gold and the table and everything on it. The languid, indolent fop hauled him up by his collar, and his eyes gleamed the shade of the coins fallen on the hearth. "This is what I will take," he snarled, his face distorted into the mask of Hell. In a lifetime spent fighting in a world that would as easily slit your throat as breath a word, Billy had never lost a fight. He lost one then. Knives gashed into the skin of his neck, burning with a bright agony that made the blood pouring across his flesh seem cold in comparison. He flailed like a rat caught in a terrier's grip, pathetically unable to protect himself. The weak light dimmed and faded, flickering until Billy wondered if it was the beginning flames of perdition he was seeing rather than the warm hearthfire. Cold stones, under his cheek. He couldn't move. He could feel his heart beating, shallowly, rapidly, trying desperately to move blood that no longer coursed it his body. But his senses still focused on the stranger than knelt beside him. "Tell me... do you want to live, or do you want to die?" He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't give the answer that his tormenter seemed to want. Watching his struggles for a few moments, the last, helpless flop of a fish caught on dry land, the stranger finally laughed. "I'll assume you want to live." This time, the blood that flowed across his face felt warm on his death-chilled skin. It trickled into his mouth, and set up a hunger, a thirst, more powerful than any Billy had ever known. It didn't matter that he could barely move, that his nemesis had proven and reproven that he was stronger. He... needed... *more*, and would be willing to fight to the last moment of life to get it. Later, he would dimly recall clamping his face against the cuts the stranger had made on his own neck. Then, his understanding was narrowed down the the blood that flowed into him, more and more, rich and powerful. And, with the blood, the sense of *other*, the demon that took residence in the twisted place where his soul used to be. A century, a year, a moment later, Billy stirred, blinked like a child waking from a nap. The stranger's clothes were stained with blood but otherwise barely disordered, and the amused, arrogant light still lit his dark eyes. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice no more than casually curious. "B--" Billy checked himself. "William the Bloody," he said instead, pride ringing. "William the Bloody, hmm?" Leaning close, the stranger smiled. "Let's see you live up to that name, shall we?" ******** High Priestess Lizbet of the CoJ ~*~ lizbet@primenet.com Co-List Mummy, Sunnydale Slayers: "Spank your inner moppet." "I just LOVE these new toys that come with a new list! Woo-hoooo!" -- Anya "Willow had a mental image of the two of them with Giles saying sternly, 'Repeat after me, please. "The lady often slays on rainy days."'"--Elaine, "Cuppa" ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 05 Oct 1997 14:52:10 -0700 From: Lisa Rose Subject: BUFFYFIC: Cage of the Burning Sun CAGE OF THE BURNING SUN (To the tune of "House of the Rising Sun") There is a cage in Sunnydale Hung in the burning sun It's been the ruin of a poor little boy They called "Anointed One" His mother died at vampire hands When crash did go their bus His sire was the Master, Lord Before that man was dust Now the only thing a vampire needs Is a dark place and some blood And the only kind keeps it satisfied Is thick young crimson crud It fills its mouth up to the brim Then passes its victims 'round And the only pleasure it gets outta death Is heartbreakin' this town Oh Mother, tell your children Not to do what Anointed's done End their lives writhing in agony In the Cage of the Burning Sun He'd vampire skin and vampire soul But face of a little boy His final thought as flesh flamed hot Was Mom, the bus, his toy All kids who come to Sunnydale Your race will sure be run If you should land in vampire hands And the Cage of the Burning Sun - ------------------------------------------ (Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose) This song is now in "Traditional Songs" section of the Little Buffy Page at: http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 05 Oct 1997 18:35:22 -0700 From: Lisa Rose Subject: BUFFYFIC: Addicted to Blood ADDICTED TO BLOOD (To the tune of "Addicted to Love" by Robert Palmer) The lights are on, your soul's not home Your neck is not your own We're tradin' blood, yours sure tastes fine Another sip and you'll be mine Goodbye to food, goodbye to sleep Just feel my fangs, they're in so deep Your throat is wet, now you don't breathe Just one more sip, you'll start to teethe Chorus: You used to think you would gag on the stuff, oh yeah But after our exchange, you can't get enough And now you've even got a gameface... You're addicted to blood! You see old friends, you feel the need They all say "hi!," you whisper "bleed" Their hearts beat, there in your mind Who'd think a pulse could feel so fine? A blood-starved fiend, you can't be saved Hemoglobin is all you crave If someone asks to walk with you Heaven help them if you do Chorus Might as well face it, you're addicted to blood! (X4) The lights are on, your soul's not home Your body's not your own Your lungs die, your teeth bite Another sip, child of the night... Chorus Might as well face it, you're addicted to blood! (X8) - ------------------------------------------ (Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose; title suggested by Jen Hawthorne) This song is now in "Pop Songs" section of the Little Buffy Page at: http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 6 Oct 1997 10:05:43 -0400 (EDT) From: romana@mindspring.com (sah) Subject: BUFFYFIC: ADMIN: List rules 1. Fiction should have Buffy characters in it and clearly be related to Buffy. Crossovers are great, and expected, but general vampire/monster stories that aren't in the Buffy universe and don't use Buffy characters belong somewhere else. 2. Discussion of posted fiction is permitted onlist. Please put "DISCUSS" in your subject line. Requests for missing story parts should go directly to the author, and not be posted to the list. Discussion that is not related directly to the fiction should go over to the general Buffy list. Discussion of fiction is expected to follow common netiquette guidelines and use PG-13 language. 3. No advertising of items or services, Buffy related or not, and no posting of non-story items such as .gifs, sound files, etc.. No attached files of kind-- if your mailer makes your fiction into attached files, you need to find another way to get it to the list. 4. If you're writing a story and including advance information on a new episode, and you're posting your story earlier than the national viewing time, please: **Mark the post as a "spoiler" in the subject header. **Leave about twelve lines (blank or with non-spoiler info) at the top of the post. This ensures that anyone w*o doesn't like knowing about an episode ahead of time is "protected." :) The blank space is for people whose mailers automatically open up the next piece of mail, without giving them a chance to see "spoiler" in the header. Spoiler warnings are not necessary after the start of the episode's national viewing time, which is currently set at 9 p.m. Mondays, Eastern Standard Time. Spoiler warnings are not necessary for reruns. 5. This list is absolutely NOT for erotic fiction. stronger than sexually PG-13 material is to be posted to the list under any circumstances. A story may be R rated for violence or language, however. If you have a question about something's suitability for posting, feel free to ask one of the listowners. Sending sexually explicit material will get you immediately and permanently uns*bscribed. No exceptions. 6. By subscribing and/or posting to this list, you acknowledge that Buffy the Vampire slayer and all characters associated with either the televised series or the motion picture were created by Josh Whedon and are owned by Mutant Enemy productions, Kuzui Productions, Sandollar Productions, and 20th Century Fox. All stories posted to this list are for entertainment purposes only, are not sold for profit of any kind, and are not intended to infringe on any copyrights. 7. When posting stories to the list, please follow the following formatting guidelines - --No story parts longer than 250 lines - --No lines longer than 75 characters - --Turn off your "smart quotes"-- many readers receive these as garbage or weird symbols - --Put the title of the story in the subject header, indicate if it's a multipart story, and if so what part this is. Example: Buffy Meets Godzilla (2/65) indicates that this post is part two of a 65 part story. 8. If a story is rated "R" for language/violence, indicate this in an introduction. For example, "There's a really bloody fight scene at the end of this part" or "if you don't like dismemberment, stop reading now!" If there's chance that someone might be disturbed by something in your story (even if it's not rated R) please include some kind of warning up front. 9. And last, but not least, the listowners reserve the right to deny subscription (new, renewed, or continued) to the list for any individual(s). PLEASE NOTE: not following any or all of these rules will get you the following: **First offense: offender is uns*bscribed for one week. **Second offense: offender is uns*bscribed to the Buffyfic list for a minimum of three months. **If the offender returns and does it again, they're offlist permanently. As noted above, posting sexually explicit material is the exception -- you go straight to permanent unsubbing. Again, welcome! If you have any questions about these rules, please contact either one of us offlist. If you have subscription problems or questions, the fastest way to get h*lp is to e-mail one of us at the addresses below, at the kirby@xmission.com addy which is the "official" e-mail owner of the list. Jill Kirby (jtkirby@mcs.com) & Sharon Himmanen (romana@mindspring.com) Listowners, Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fiction List buffyfic@xmission.com ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 07 Oct 1997 12:16:41 -0700 From: Lisa Rose Subject: BUFFYFIC: Cage of the Burning Sun (Completely Revised) CAGE OF THE BURNING SUN (To the tune of "House of the Rising Sun") There is a cage in Sunnydale Exposed to the burning sun A solar oven for that poor little vamp They called "The Anointed One" His mother died at vampire hands When fangboys crashed their bus His sire was the Master, Lord Before that man was dust Now the only thing the Master did Was drain blood from some girl And make a kid in his fruitless bid To raise Hell in the world He sent his lackeys up above Then chortled to his son And the only pleasure he got outta life Was in killin' everyone Oh mother, warn your children Not to do as Colin's done End their lives writhing in agony In the Cage of the Burning Sun With vampire teeth and vampire soul But the face of a little boy His final thought as his skin got hot Was "Rosebud," his airplane toy All you who come to Sunnydale Don't ride the bus, but run! Lest you may land in vampire hands And the Cage of the Burning Sun - ------------------------------------------ (Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose) These and other lyrics may be found at: http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 08 Oct 1997 16:30:00 PDT From: "Megan Lee" Subject: BUFFYFIC: Tallulah (part 1 of about 10 parts, more or less) Disclaimer: I do not own any of the regular Buffy characters they are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and the WB channel. I do claim ownership of those characters that live out their lives in my imagination and on my computer, like Tallulah and Company. The song "Die with Me" is property of the band Type O Negative. Please do not sue me, because I am already very much in debt. Thank you. 8o-) *NOTE:I am not sure as to how many parts this will be as I am still writing most of it. Please be patient and I will try to get the rest of the parts up ASAP. Please send any comments or criticims on over to me. I'd appreciate them. Now on with the Show. Take Care Wolfka Tallulah based on the television series “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” Shadows lay deep, sparked here and there, by the pinpricks of civilized light at contrast with the wild stars above. The night is hushed as the watcher gazes down on this small picturesque town above the Hellmouth. Down there are the ones she seeks, the ones who are fighting the darkness with the passions in their heart. Down there is the chosen Slayer and her Watcher. They, the Slayer and her watcher, are different from those from before. They are not alone in their battle against the vampires, demons and forces of evil, they have a band of friends who help them. Four of them are human, a boy, two girls and a woman, who is a witch but not a witch. The last one is inhuman, one of the undead, a vampire with a soul. That in and of itself is something one does not see everyday, the night watcher well knows. A vampire with a soul is a strange bird, especially, when he is attracted to the one who is sworn to rid the world of vampires. Looking down the night watcher smiles, as she contemplates the days ahead. Glancing at her companions she strokes their heads and murmurs softly to them, “Time to go make some memories, my friends. Way past time.” ********** The Bronze. The one place in town where it’s OK for young people to hang out. To listen to bands and relax. As usual, it’s smoky and rich with the noises of people having a peaceful evening listening to various bands. The dance floor moves like a wind blown grain field, as couples dance slowly to the sounds of a romantic song. In a dark corner, a young girl is in the arms of someone much older than she. Her fair hair is spread out over the black velvet shoulder of her companion, his head near hers as he talks into her ear. Near them a boy and a girl sit comparing notes on the snobbish Cordelia. Looking over the fair haired girl throws in a rude comment about the brain capacity of said Cordelia and the little band of merrymakers laugh and smile. As the last dance ends, the stage darkens as a gauzy curtain falls across the front. A hush falls over the Bronze as the crowd waits for the next offering to be made at their sacrificial alter. The sounds of a changing of the bands is heard and then silence. Silence and darkness. Out of that silence comes a soft tinkling of ivory piano keys being touched gently. Slowly in the darkness, a tune is built with just that one instrument singing it’s soul. The tune is quiet, soothing, reminiscent of a brook babbling over well placed stones. The fair haired girl, who’s name is Buffy, feels the man next to her stiffen as the piano music changes. The music becomes less whimsical, and more dark and brooding by the second. Looking up at her companion she whispers, “Angel?” The man looks down at her, his face a mask of agony, his eyes so full of pain that he looks like a stranger. “Angel what is it?” she whispers again, touching him gently on the arm. “Please, what is the matter?” He rudely shakes off her arm, and tries to insist that it is nothing. But as the music plays on Buffy sees that he is getting more and more disturbed. Then the thin layer of gauze the only barrier between the crowd and the band is raised. Seated at a baby grand piano is a young woman. It is her hands that touch the keys evoking emotions that are at once raw, throbbing agony to hear and yet oddly gentle, soothing to the soul. Buffy hears her friend Xander inhale sharply as the woman is revealed, and with good reason. She is in a word, beautiful. Her flawless pale skin offsets her dark eyes and ruby red mouth. About her shoulders tumbles a wild mass of hair, it’s blackness haloed in a burgundy sheen. Her outfit is simple, a long hunter green velvet dress, drapes about her and spills out onto the floor. At her feet sprawls a large silver ruffed wolf who’s green eyes are fastened on Angel. On top of the piano, a black cat lays elegantly, it’s green eyes are also fastened on Angel. The intensity of their gazes cause Buffy to shiver, it’s as if these creatures knew who and what Angel is. As Buffy notices all of this, the music reaches it’s soul wrenching climax and then there is silence. Wrenching her gaze from the stage Buffy looks up at Angel and says to him quietly, “who is she Angel? At least tell me that.” Angel looks down slowly at her and in a pain edged whisper replies, “She is the one who gave me back my soul at the command of the Romany. She is the one who brought me again into this world as close to a human as a vampire can be. She is called Tallulah, the memory maker. She is more to me than you can even guess.” As the last words leave his mouth, he turns his back on Buffy, on the once again tinkling music and flees the Bronze. He never sees the shock registering on Buffy’s face, never sees the woman at the piano smile sadly as she watches him leave. ******** ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 08 Oct 1997 16:40:40 PDT From: "Megan Lee" Subject: BUFFYFIC: Tallulah (part 2 of 10 parts more or less) Disclaimer: I do not own any of the regular Buffy characters they are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and the WB channel. I do claim ownership of those characters that live out their lives in my imagination and on my computer, like Tallulah and Company. The song "Die with Me" is property of the band Type O Negative. Please do not sue me, because I am already very much in debt. Thank you. 8o-) Tallulah based on the Television Series Buffy the Vampire Slayer ********* “Hey Buff, what was all that about? Did Angel get a little frisky with you?” a slightly mocking voice breaks into Buffy’s shock. Shaking her head slight she looks over to see her friends Xander and Willow watching her. Xander is leaning into Willow, an arm thrown casually around her shoulders, a smile on his face, eyes guiless. Beside him with her arm around his waist and trying to not fall over, Willow stops smiling. She has noticed that Buffy is genuinely disturbed, and her eyes darken with concern. “Buffy what is it?” she asks. Still shaking her head Buffy, replies softly in a hurt edged voice to Xander’s previous question, “No he wasn’t getting frisky. He ... he said that the girl on the stage was someone out of his past. That she was the one who made him human.” Xander’s eyes widened as he grasped the meaning in Buffy’s words. “That.. that would make her a ... a ... help me out Will, what’s the word I am looking for?” he asked desperately. Speaking at the same time Willow exclaimed, “But that would make her a witch! And she’d be at least a hundred years old by now!” Raising his eyes to the ceiling Xander breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you Willow, that was the word I needed.” He gave her a quick hug to tell her no harm should be taken by his sarcastic words. “Yeah, really, that’s what she’d be and that’s how old she’d have to be. But unless my Slayer senses are bugging out on me now, they are also telling me that she is also a vampire. A very powerful vampire.” Buffy replied, her tone dry. “A Vamp? Man, why are all the beautiful girls of the supernatural kind?” Xander exclaimed. Behind them, the object of their scrutiny gets up from the piano, steps gracefully over the wolf and goes up to the microphone. “Good Evening everyone. My name is Tallulah and I want to thank you for having us here.” her voice was rich, sophisticated, the slightest accent burring through her words. Behind her other members of the band came out onto the stage, carrying the various implements of their instruments. “We have a few songs of our own, although we are still at the stage where covers of other band’s songs are a major part of our repetoire. We hope you do not mind. For our first song we would like to do, is a song by Type O Negative, called “Die With Me.” Behind her, a tall man with a guitar started to strum at the stings, the chords forming a rich backdrop to the words. His voice is soothing, plaintive, singing of a last wish that will never come true. “Now like a bird She flew away To Chase her dreams Of books and praise Still I miss her Yeah I miss her Since she’s gone...” Over the music, Buffy turned to her friends and said “Let’s go see Giles. He might have a clue as to what is going on. Then again maybe not.. but I need to get out of here.” Grabbing her purse and leather jacket Buffy started for the door. Xander looked at Willow and they both shrugged. “To the library it is then... Hey Buff wait up!” They raced after her. Behind them the band played on, the singer asking plaintively “If this time were the last time Could I hold you all life long? Since this time is the last time Can I hold you all night long? Still I miss her Yeah I miss her Since she’s gone” ******** “Are you sure that the woman who supposedly changed Angel is a witch and a vampire?” Giles asked his disbelief plain on his face. “Hello Giles! I know what my senses tell me, and I don’t see how an ordinary woman could have changed Angel like that without some help from her magical friends!” Buffy exclaimed in exasperation. They were gathered in the library, she, Giles, Willow, Xander and Jenny Calender. The glow from the overheads bathed them all in a ruddy glow. Giles sat at a table piled high with various tomes of vampire lore and prophecies. His hair is all mussed up and he is wearing his normal apparel of rumpled slept in clothing. Beside him Jenny and Willow sit scanning the Internet on two different computers for any accounts of vampires who might also be witches. Xander sprawls in a chair, a book on one knee as he looks over Willow’s shoulder, and pays scant attention to the conversation, which is in it’s 4th go around. “Why don’t you believe me?” Buffy asked, throwing her hands up in the air as she paced the room. “It’s not that I don’t believe you Buffy, it’s just that... well... I have never in my life heard of such a thing happening. I haven’t seen it any of the books I have read. I just want to make sure we have all the facts before we start thinking too hard.” “Oh, and when has that stopped you before?” Giles just looked over his glasses at her. “To quote you.... ‘that was harsh.’” Sitting back he ran his hands through his hair, making it stand further out on end. “Rupert,” Jenny said quietly, as she looked up from her computer. “You may be wrong about there never being any record of such a being. I just got an email from a good friend of mine, Snugglebunny,” Xander broke up in laughter over the name, repeating it over and over. Giving him a cold look Jenny went on, “she is faxing over a copy of an old diary she has. Her great grandmother was in a romany clan, and in it she writes of a young woman who’s skin was pale, lips blood red, hair like ebony, who lived with her clan.” “Hmmm sounds like Snow White to me.” Xander stated deadpan. “Mirror mirror on the wall who’s the fairest of them all.” He suddenly cackled like the Disney witch from the movie. Elbowing her friend sharly in the ribs, Willow said “Cut it out Xander. You’re not helping.” Just then the fax machine beeped loudly. Rushing over to it, Giles started to fight with Buffy over the possesion of the document. Jenny walked over calmly and snatched the paper from their grasping hands. “I will take that, thank you very much. Hmmm these are the recipes I asked for. Oh good. The next fax will be the one you would like to see Rupert.” As if on cue, the fax machine beeped again. Giving his young charge a stern glare, Giles gently took the sheaf of papers from the machine and started to scan. He began to pace, his face growing very stern, as he concentrated on the old text. “Ah, I believe this is what we were looking for....Supposedly this woman was traveling about alone when the clan picked her up and allowed her to travel with them. Oh wait she wasn't completely alone, she had two companions, a large dog and a black cat,” turning suddenly Giles looked at Buffy. “Didn’t you say that there was a wolf and a cat on the stage tonight?” Nodding with her eyes on the floor, Buffy tried hard to block out the memory of those eyes. Looking up she met Giles’ gaze. “They were really weird Giles, they both had green eyes, and all the while they just stared at Angel as though they knew exactly who and what he was.” “Hmph. Well this may well be the same woman. Snugglebunny’s great grandmother writes of her as having a lot of power, and that she only wished to go out at dusk. Hmmm. It also states that there was a trouble in another clan and the woman went to solve it. She returned with a young man, who left several days later. The great grandmother describes him as the most beautiful man she had ever seen.” Buffy breathed in slowly and then exhaled, “Angel.” “So it would seem.” “I’ve got to talk to him. Now, tonight.” Grabbing her jacket, she turned to Xander and Willow, “Please, stay here. I want to see him alone.” “No prob Buf. I think there is a banana split calling my name.. how about you Willow?” Xander turned to his best friend bopping her lightly on the head with his book. “Sure. Take Care Buffy.” Willow managed to get out before she started to tickle Xander. “Thanks guys....” Buffy started for the door, her pace quick, agitated. Giles took a step after her..”Buffy..” Looking back at him, Buffy smiled and said “Yes, Giles, I know. Be careful.” Then she was gone. ********* On a hill top across town, Angel stood looking up at the stars. ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 09 Oct 1997 18:25:53 -0700 From: Lisa Rose Subject: BUFFYFIC: Little Buffy Movie Section! The Summers family is adding a new room to their Little Buffy house for "Little Buffy's Movies"! It's a small list of movies now (at five), but it's bound to grow. You can find it by clicking on "Little Buffy's Recreation" at: http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html As a little sample, I include item #5 below, because both the movie and TV episode that inspired it were just released and aired respectively: 5. KISS THE BOYS (and make them shrivel) - A centuries-old Peruvian mummy (Tiffani Amber Thiessen) just wants to be like any other normal high school girl. But in doing so she leaves in her wake a string of desiccated boyfriends like so many emptied juice boxes in a high-school lunchroom. The local slayer (Ashley Judd) is baffled as to how to recognize and terminate Little Miss "Candy from the Andes" before she strikes again. And the danger is closer to home than she realizes! Her only hope lies in Xander Harris (Morgan Freeman), "the boy who got away." Lisa Keeper of Little Spike's "Bite Me Elmo" Doll ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 10 Oct 1997 15:00:55 -0700 From: Lisa Rose Subject: BUFFYFIC: Violent Night The 13th (gotta love that number!) and final installment in "Little Buffy's Christmas Songs" - ----------------------------------------------- VIOLENT NIGHT (To the tune of "Silent Night") Violent night, unholy night! Watch your back, classmates bite 'Round blonde Slayer, thrust after thrust Vampires perish in poofs of bright dust Sweep them up if you please Sweep them up if you please Violent night, unholy night! Young vamps run from this fight. Scattering clouds say she's got the Right Stuff Willow and Xander scream "Way to go, Buff!" Come on and face her, it's cool Come on and face her, you fool Violent night, unholy night! Joyce's kid gets it right Stakes flash brightly, her crossbow it sings Feel the peace that a good slaying brings! Creeps, you picked the wrong town Creeps, come turn sandy and brown - ------------------------------------------- (Lyrics copyright 1997 by Lisa Rose) http://www.wco.com/~cybrpaws/lilbuffy.html ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 11 Oct 1997 10:52:12 -0400 (EDT) From: dalton.spence@hwcn.org Subject: BUFFYFIC: Fwd: Fanzine: This is not a threat!! This reply has also been sent to the newsgroups. On 9 Oct 1997 23:29:50 GMT in the alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer newsgroup, vampslyr13@aol.com (VampSlyr13) wrote: > Okay, it seems that you all took my threat of a Buffy fanzine as a joke. I > AM > NOT JOKING! :) I am planning on publishing a Buffy the Vampire Slayer > fanzine. However, it will only work if you all contribute! If anyone has > any, or would like to write stories, poems, essays, or draw pictures to > contribute, that would be great! My only request is that it has not been > published previously anywhere else, in print or on the 'net. > You can email me at vampslyr13@aol.com for more details or to contribute. > Also > looking for ideas for a title. > Micki Nice idea, Micki. I hope no one minds, but I'm forwarding this message to the buffy-beta and buffyfic mailing lists. I know you want *unpublished* fanfic, but I'm sure that some of the authors who post here will be willing to whip something up just for you. ;-)= - -- +-------------------------------------------------+ | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. | | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html | +-------------------------------------------------+ ------------------------------ End of buffyfic Digest V1 #36 ***************************** 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.