From: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com (buffyfic-digest) To: buffyfic-digest@lists.xmission.com Subject: buffyfic-digest V2 #183 Reply-To: $SENDER Sender: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Errors-To: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Precedence: bulk buffyfic-digest Tuesday, May 12 1998 Volume 02 : Number 183 In this issue: BUFFYFIC: "Future Imperfect" -- Chapter Eight -- (1/1) BUFFYFIC: "Long Day" (2/2) BUFFYFIC: "Long Day" (1/2) 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: Tue, 12 May 1998 22:14:09 EDT From: KylenRevik Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Future Imperfect" -- Chapter Eight -- (1/1) Please send all comments, questions, or requests for missing pieces to KylenRevik@aol.com. This is chapter eight of thirteen. See the prologue for notes and disclaimers. ~ "Part Eight: Divergence" Place: Sunnydale Cemetery. Time: November 24th, 2002, Late Night. So cold. Buffy couldn't believe how _freezing_ she was. Barely letting herself think, she tossed a glance toward the gravestone she had put her stakes behind earlier. Despite the chill, her hands were sweating, making it harder for her to keep hold of the black candle she had brought with her and the zippo lighter she was going to use to light it when Angel showed up. If he showed up. That was something else she was stressing about, now. Not what would happen if he showed up and mauled her or killed her or worse, but what if he simply didn't show up at _all_. She thought back over the past few days, remembering everything she had done to provide for every possibility she could think of. Talking to Cordelia, telling her mom she was going to Willow's. Telling Willow that if her mom found out about this huge project Buffy had to do at the library, Buffy'd get killed, so could Willow please just tell Mrs. Summers that her daughter was spending the night, if it came up? She'd felt guilty about it when Willow had nodded and said sure, she would cover for her. But it was worth it, Buffy kept telling herself, because in a few more hours this would all be over. Over and done with. The two syllables that had been repeating themselves in her mind all night long showed no sign of slowing: *Angel, Angel, Angel...* Four _years_. Almost a fifth of her entire life. She had read stories when she was a girl, stories about women whose husbands and lovers went away to wars and never came back, or came back after so long away that everyone thought they were dead. Not until Angel had Buffy realized it was possible to love someone that much, that hard, that you would never leave them and never give up hope that one day they would return to you. Her fear that Angelus might not show up suddenly vanished as her Slayer's-sense suddenly felt a sharp pull, and she knew he was coming. Closer by the second. So a non-appearance was one fear she could strike off the board, because it wasn't going to be an issue any longer. Now she had to prepare to meet him in battle. To the end. She'd kill Angelus tonight, keeping only her Angel and not the demon that had ruled him for the past four years. Funny. She'd have thought, after four years, a few more minutes would feel like nothing. Instead, the seconds seemed to be stretching out and out into infinity, each one longer than the last. It had taken all afternoon after getting home from Cordelia's, but she had memorized the lines and how to deliver them. Check that off the list of things to panic about, she told herself. She took a breath, sipping in the clear, cold air. She even allowed herself a slight smile, thinking about what she was going to do to the demonic son of a bitch that had stolen her lover away for all these years. Out of nowhere, she heard a hiss, and a large mass rammed her to the ground. The zippo and the candle flew from her hands and into the grass, and Buffy found herself staring up into Angelus' cold, cruel eyes, her wrists pinned to the grass and stretched over her head. "Buffy," Angelus said, so softly she could barely make out anything but the menace in his tone, "I'm sorry, but I think this game of cat-and-mouse has gone on long enough." His lips twisted into a sort of grin. "I heard you were planning on recursing me tonight." He shook his head. "Sorry, babe. Ain't gonna happen." Then his smile widened slightly. "However...I did think maybe I could give _you_ something." Struggling through his words, Buffy was trying to squirm loose. But in the years since he'd been re-possessed, Angel had gained strength-- and now she had to admit, she might be in over her head. But all she needed was that candle, and the lighter...how could she have let them go, let them fall away like that? She felt tears pricking in her eyes as she realized there was nothing she could do without them. Then she forced the tears down and told herself she had to fight through this-- couldn't let the bastard get her down after this long, and the battle was by no means over. Angelus took a moment to reposition her arms so that he was holding both her wrists in one hand, his grip like a vise. Then he pulled a small cardboard figure out of the back pocket of his jeans, and it took Buffy a moment to realize it was wrapped in black ribbon. "See this?" he asked. "Know what it means?" She glared up at him, trying to work her legs up to a point where she would have the leverage to force him off her and get back up. "I've bound you," he said, his tone almost an academic one-- even tinged with a measure of pride and arrogance that an academic would have used. "That means you can't fight me, Buffy. You don't have a chance." He leaned in and smile, baring his fangs slightly. "Isn't that lovely?" She glared up. "Fucking beautiful," she hissed, struggling for another moment, but still unable to break his grip. He rolled his eyes. "Buffy, come _on_," he said. "Don't be ridiculous. You know as well as I do that you've broken out of grips like this. I could get up and we could fight, if you want me to prove it to you." There was a smirk on his face as he said the words. "Fine," she said, "try it and we'll see." He shook his head with a slight sigh. "Nah. It'll be much more fun the way I've got things planned." Slipping the figure back into his pocket, he slid his free hand down her throat, pushing her head to one side. To her horror, Buffy found she was powerless. Try as she might, there was nothing she could do nothing to break free, and with every passing second she was wishing more and more that she had told Xander and Giles what she had been planning-- even if having backup would have meant they would both be in danger, even if they would have tried to stop her. There was a sharp laugh as Angelus saw comprehension dawning in her expression. Then he bent down and fixed his fangs to her throat. The moment his fangs penetrated her flesh, Buffy realized she was in trouble, and in it deep. "No," she whispered, as she began to feel lightheaded, and it was only then that Angelus pulled away from her, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. He smiled down on her, stroking her hair with one hand. "See, Buffy?" he asked. "We can be together now, you know." "In your dreams," she tried to hiss, but the words came out in more of a whisper than in angry defiance. She could barely make her eyes focus on him. "Every night," he chuckled. Then he let her hands go completely and, still sitting on her, pulled a knife from his jacket, making a swipe across his wrist. "Time for Buffy to have a little snack," he said. Buffy tried to twist away, but it was all she could do to get one hand free and cast it so that it gripped the back of the headstone a few feet away, behind which her stakes lay. She swallowed hard as Angel reached down toward her, and shut her mouth tight. The vampire was too busy pinning her nose closed with the hand that was holding the knife to realize she had pulled one of the stakes out. Had Buffy not been ready to faint from lack of both blood and oxygen, she probably wouldn't have done what she did. But she was, and she couldn't think clearly enough to stop herself. She was already having a hard time staying focused enough to keep from drawing a breath-- which would have meant drinking the blood Angelus was offering her, and certain damnation. If Angelus hadn't been so intent on turning her into a vampire, he would have seen the stake earlier. As it was, neither realized what the Slayer was doing until the stake connected with Angelus' chest, driving through once-- and missing his heart. Buffy jerked it back out as she heard Angelus howl in pain. She felt something cold and sharp slice through her throat, then drive itself into her belly, and the last thing she felt before the darkness took her was the stake finding its target and then falling onto her gut as the pressure there suddenly lightened and disappeared. The only one who saw everything, and watched it all in horror, was the man who stepped out from the bushes a few seconds after Angelus had turned to dust. ~ Please send all comments to KylenRevik@aol.com. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 12 May 1998 22:14:27 EDT From: KylenRevik Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Long Day" (2/2) See part one for disclaimers and notes. Comments to KylenRevik@aol.com. Spoilers for "The Becoming" part One. ~ //Reach, she said for no one else but you. But I'm here all the time And I won't go away.// "...'nuff...dy." As Xander turned to leave Willow's room, he thought he heard Oz murmur something behind him. He turned. "What?" he asked. "Nothing," Oz said, but by the tone in his voice, Xander had the feeling that wasn't what he'd said. Something in the other boy's voice... "No, really," Xander said, his brow furrowing. "What." Oz swallowed, turning back to face him. "Didn't say anything," he began, then before Xander could call him on the bullshit, he continued. "Except that you've done enough to her already." Xander looked at him blankly. "Excuse me," he said, "but I was only asking 'cause I care about--" "Yeah, whatever," Oz broke in, cutting him off. The chill in the were-teen's voice was unmistakable, and Xander had to fight from taking a step backward. He stared for a moment at Oz's back, wondering what he was supposed to say now. What he was supposed to do. He did care about Willow. A lot. Yeah, he'd ripped her and Buffy out yesterday for being as stupid as they'd been behaving, for wanting to try and be all sweet and fix what had already broken instead of just child- proofing the entire world, but he'd thought Willow had realized that wasn't personal. It was...well, it was work. Of sorts. Business. His professional opinion. From the way Oz was treating him now, though, Xander had the feeling that wasn't how it had wound up going over. "Fine," he said quietly. "Just, when she comes to, tell her I love her, okay?" The senior seemed to tense at the words, and Xander could see his jaw clench, in profile. There was no answer. "Like a sister, man," he snapped, not knowing if he was more disgusted with himself or with Oz for the unconscious assumption that seemed to be figuring in here. "Like a sister," he repeated as he turned to stalk away. Cordelia was down in his room asleep, he would go sit with her till she woke up, maybe by then Buffy would have woken up and things could be alright again. Maybe he'd wake up from this crazy two-year nightmare and discover he was still a sophomore and everything was still horribly simple. That the town he loved wasn't on a hellmouth and that everything else hadn't suddenly gone unmistakably _wigged out_. "You know," he heard a voice from behind him call, "if you loved her, you'd think a little more about how you hurt her. 'Cause you hurt her a lot." Xander turned to respond to that, but the door to Willow's room slammed shut and he heard the lock turn. He stared at it for a moment, unsure of what to do or say, how he was supposed to react to something like that. _Damn_ it, Oz couldn't just leave things, could he. Had to tack that extra jab on. Had to try and hurt him even more. He shook his head slowly. Damn it, damn it all. Damn it all past anything that'd ever been damned before. "Xander?" came a call from down the corridor. He looked up to see Mrs. Rosenburg down the hall, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and looking worried beyond belief. "Yeah," he said with a weak smile. "She's down there." He waved in the direction of Willow's room. Mrs. Rosenburg nodded, pausing for a moment to give him a quick hug. "Thanks, honey," she said. Then she sighed. "I tried your parents, but nobody picked up--" "It's okay," Xander said, interrupting. "I'm home alone for the week." Briefly, it looked as though Mrs. Rosenburg might say something to that, but then she caught herself and turned to go visit her daughter. Xander turned away so he wouldn't have to see Oz letting her into the room. The threshold he had the feeling he wouldn't be allowed to cross. "Xander?" A new voice. He looked back toward the direction of his own room, and saw Cordelia leaning into the hallway. Her hair slightly mussed, but she was still beautiful, and he sighed just looking at her. Then he took a quick breath. "Yeah, over here, Cordie," he said with a weak smile. She turned her head to look in his direction, and a smile broke over her features. "Hey!" she said, and left the doorway to his room to walk briskly toward him. "Where'd you go?" He shrugged. "Walk." He wasn't about to tell her he'd been to see Willow and gotten kicked out. "Oh," she said, and it was obvious that she could sense that something was wrong. He supposed it was probably obvious. After a moment, she smiled slightly. "You know," she said, "you were really a hero in there." She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "You saved my life." He kissed her back, but only for a moment before he gently. pushed her away. His eyes drifted downward to end upon the floor. "Xand?" she asked, brushing her fingertips through his hair. "You okay?" "Yeah," he lied. "Just...I don't feel like much of a hero." She looked at him for a long few moments, and somewhere in her eyes he found the realization that explained why she'd come searching for him, why she seemed so edgy. The fear that none of them had wanted to mention. And he realized, also, that tonight... None of them would feel like heros, tonight. * //It's been a long day Always Ain't that right.// "Buffy?" Buffy turned, swallowed, looked at the darkened shadow standing in the doorway. Her breath quickened before the silhouette registered. "Cordie." "Xander's asleep." "Oh." The other girl walked into the room, looked around. Didn't make any sort of move toward the light switch. Thank God. If He existed. Which Buffy found herself doubting more and more, these days. "Willow?" "I checked. Oz is still with her." Buffy shook her head. She'd been right when she'd told Xander, Oz was loyal. He hadn't left Willow's bed the entire day. She sighed, her eyes drifting to the floor. "Xander?" "Asleep. Okay. I think." Cordelia shook her head. "As okay as any of us is going to be." There was a long moment of silence. "Giles." "They still haven't found him." "Oh." Cordelia swallowed, and Buffy heard every sound. "God," she whispered. "I'm such an idiot." Cordelia looked at her. "Why?" she asked. "Because. I let him lure me in. I should have seen it. Should have felt it. Should have known--" "You did the best you could," she heard Cordelia whisper. "It wasn't good enough." Cordelia shrugged. "Better than we could have done." "Not my best." "Still," Cordelia whispered, and Buffy had the sudden feeling that it wasn't respect for the situation that had Cordelia's behavior so muted, but rather that her voice was betraying the fact that she was close to tears. She sat, silent. Because she didn't know what to say. Or how to express the emotions in her gut. How badly she'd failed, this time. It had been bad, before. It had been horrible. She'd gotten people killed. Hurt. She'd turned the one she loved over to the Darkness, for God's sake. But never this. Even when he had systematically targeted her, trying to take everything she cared about away from her, Angelus had never managed to do this. But all it had taken was the possibility that he might kill more people if he didn't see her. Egotism, pure and simple. She was the Slayer, and that had cost her the possibility of victory, tonight. And not the empty victory that even now was on the horizon, but a real victory. Where the winners felt as though they'd won something, not just lost the least. Egotism. She was the Slayer. That didn't mean they would rather take her out than destroy the world. Didn't mean she couldn't have stayed in the library to protect them, and told herself that even if a few had died tonight, Angel would have been brought back and incapable of hurting anymore. At the very least. And if she had, she would have been able to stop them. "Hey," she whispered, "you know, you were right." Cordelia was silent a moment. Surprised, probably. "I was?" she finally said softly. "I should have stayed," Buffy whispered, as much to herself as to the other girl. "Could have helped you. We could have saved him." For a long time, Cordelia was silent. Then Buffy felt the air next to her move, ever so slightly. Noiselessly. As Cordelia moved beside her, and put her arm around the Slayer's shoulder while the tears began to flow. END Copyright 1998 Rachel Brody *Lyrics by Matchbox 20, used without permission. ~ Comments to KylenRevik@aol.com, please. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 12 May 1998 22:14:02 EDT From: KylenRevik Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Long Day" (1/2) Spoilers: "The Becoming", Part One. This is my way of putting things in their places so I can sleep tonight. Disclaimers: What's mine is mine, what's their's is their's. Distribution: Not without my express permission, please. Comments/feedback: YES PLEASE. ~ "Long Day" //Hey, it's me, I can't get myself to go away Oh God, I shouldn't feel this way...// *It's not about you, Buffy.* Not about her. Never about her. Then why couldn't he _stop_ thinking about her, what was wrong with him that every thought he had possessed him in ways he'd never been possessed by thoughts before? *It was never about you.* Never her. Never. He kicked a gravestone, watching with a tinge of satisfaction as it toppled into the grass. Fuckin' idiot humans. Fuckin' bitch. Arrogant, past arrogant even. God, what was with her, thinking she had any right to-- *Except it's not about her, damnit. Get that fuckin' straight, loser.* He spit at the ground in disgust, wondering how it was the air itself could carry her scent. Bitch. He'd go home to Dru now. Find out how things at the library went. Losers. Idiots. Arrogant little _bitch_, thinking she could mean enough to him so he'd forsake his plans for his Armageddon, his precious end-of-the-world, his everything. For what, for her? From some pathetic sniveling Slayer he wanted to kill so badly it was hurting inside? He wanted it empty inside, and instead there was this aching, burning desire to feel her blood on his hands, to feel her flesh ripping beneath his jaws, to see and feel her breaking with every ounce of himself. The library. He grinned to himself, spitting again to see if the air passing over his taste buds had stopped reeking of her, her sweat, her hair, her perfume. It was making him fucking _sick_. Little bitch was gonna find quite a sight, if Dru had done her job. He wondered how many dead there would be. He wondered, how could she have been that _arrogant_, that stupid, he had known she was an airhead but this was just idiotic. Or maybe she thought the other Slayer's presence had meant something, maybe she thought having backup made her invincible. But then again, he knew what they didn't. This Kendra, she was far weaker than Buffy, and she was all method. Because, he told himself, that's what had been catching him with Buffy, time after time-- how the little bitch didn't do anything the way she was supposed to. How she never spoke or thought the way she was supposed to speak or think. He let his gaze take in the graveyard with another grin, and another dry hack, but then he didn't care whether or not he could taste her, whether or not he could still feel the brushburn or two she'd given him pulsing. A growl began to build in his throat as the corners of his lips curled upward into a smile. He let it rumble, feeling it fight its way up from the darkness inside him, through his throat, finally letting loose with a roar that threatened to split his very vocal cords. His eardrums nearly burst from the strain and volume, the air beating against them in close and tight pulses. He let the roar die on its own, without forcing, without easing. Without making himself feel anything. Operating purely on instinct. And when it, like everything else around him in the still of the graveyard, had died, he smiled. "You're gonna pay, Slayer," he said, his voice a low rumble over the roughened sensations that were traveling down his throat. "I'm gonna cut you to fucking pieces." Inside him, something small and nearly silent began to weep anew. * //Reach down your hand in your pocket And pull out some hope for me.// "Will," Oz murmured quietly, holding her hand in his own and squeezing it gently. His voice was breaking, almost, in his throat. He was going to cry here if he wasn't careful, and he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad one. He'd never cried for somebody else before. Sure, there had been skinned knees and stuff, but he wasn't the crying kind. Most of the time he kind of wandered around in a daze, not knowing what to do. He sighed. "Jeez, Will." Shook his head once. Swallowed. Felt himself slowly moving into that dazed plane, where he wouldn't feel anything and it wouldn't hurt anymore. Maybe he could numb himself out, some. He knew Devon did that, and the other guys, sometimes. Sometimes. He didn't want to numb this out, though. Not what he was feeling for her, for his Willow. He blinked back a tear, moving to let his other hand enfold the hand that was already holding her. "Shoulda told me," he said quietly. "I mean, you know, not that..." He sighed, trailing off. Not that what? He wouldn't have been able to do anything, he supposed. He wished he would have. "Hey," came a voice from behind him. Oz turned, surprised to see that Cordelia wasn't hanging on Xander's arm. Or anywhere else around. "Hey, man," he replied, taking in the cast that had been wrapped around Xander's broken arm. Compound fracture, the nurse had said. Earlier, when Cordelia had actually thought that maybe Willow's boyfriend might want to know what had happened to her. "So," Xander said, his voice quiet, "anything change?" Oz shook his head. "No," he said. His eyes strayed back down to Willow, as he remembered the phone conversation they'd had the day before. *"I don't know what I'm supposed to think. Xander's been my best friend for, for forever, and now he-- well, he just went _off_ at Buffy and me, and, and Angel isn't, it isn't his fault..."* Then she'd dissolved into tears. And Oz had sat there, soothing her over the line, not knowing how much he was helping and how much had hurt even more. Because he didn't know her well enough, yet, to know how to help when other people betrayed her. "Oh," Xander replied. The dark-haired teen took a breath, then half-smiled. "You know," he said, "if you want to go get some coffee or something, I could, you know, sit here with her..." Oz shook his head. "Nah," he said quietly. "I'll stay." "You sure?" "Yeah." ~ More to come. Comments to KylenRevik@aol.com, please. ------------------------------ End of buffyfic-digest V2 #183 ****************************** To subscribe to buffyfic or buffyfic-digest, send the command subscribe buffyfic-digest or subscribe buffy to majordomo@xmission.com. 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 majordomo@xmission.com 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 (jtkirby@mcs.com) or sah (romana@mindspring.com)