From: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com (buffyfic-digest) To: buffyfic-digest@lists.xmission.com Subject: buffyfic-digest V2 #241 Reply-To: $SENDER Sender: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Errors-To: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Precedence: bulk buffyfic-digest Monday, June 22 1998 Volume 02 : Number 241 In this issue: BUFFYFIC: BUFFYFIC Diaries - Buffy1 Re: BUFFYFIC: BUFFYFIC Diaries - Buffy1 BUFFYFIC: "Syndicate: Holding On To The Night" BUFFYFIC: Diaries BUFFYFIC: Reflections (1/1) Discuss: Re: BUFFYFIC: Reflections (1/1) BUFFYFIC: Memories At Dawn 1/1 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: Sun, 21 Jun 1998 22:05:25 +0100 From: "Mark Jones" Subject: BUFFYFIC: BUFFYFIC Diaries - Buffy1 I haven't written any fic for a while, so some feedback, be it good bad, or just ugly would be nice! Rach@altitudeprods.demon.co.uk Disclaimer: They aren't mine Summary: Just a quick peek in Buffys diary, nothings gone wrong , everythings fine! Dear Diary, It’s strange, today was one of the most normal days that I’ve had for ages, but to most people it would have been totally weird. School was not really important, Giles was in mega research mode, according to him something big is supposed to happen next month, and he’s all “It’s better to be prepared…” I guess he’s right, life would be good if it was all mapped out. I wonder what it would be like to be a ‘normal’ person, with no complications, no vampires and no Hellmouth, but then again what about the feeling of not knowing, the feeling that something could happen and that I can save peoples lives, I would miss being different. And most of all, Angel, it would be totally different, would I know that he’s a vampire, or would I just be forever wondering why we never meet in the day. If I was a ‘normal’ person, who would the slayer be? Willow? No, too sensible, Xander? No, I don’t know why, there’s just something about him, maybe it would be Cordelia? I don’t know why but she strikes me as the kinda person who is not just the kind of person she shows herself to be. I wonder what it would be like for Giles, would it be easier? Harder? What about me, where would I be? It’s strange how one person can affect other people’s lives, only realising how when they think about what it would be like without themselves. Goodnight Diary, Buffy. By Rachel Jones. I was thinking about extending this to the other characters, and making it into a kinda mini series, what do u think? Rach@altitudeprods.demon.co.uk ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 Jun 1998 09:27:45 -0700 From: Wirchler Subject: Re: BUFFYFIC: BUFFYFIC Diaries - Buffy1 Mark Jones wrote: > > > By Rachel Jones. > I was thinking about extending this to the other characters, and making it > into a kinda mini series, what do u think? > Rach@altitudeprods.demon.co.uk Why not? It certainly might be fun to create the 'insights' of Xander, Willow, Cordelia, and even Oz and Giles...... Cordelia is vain enough, Giles retentive enough..... :) What about a diary 'series'? I think it's a great idea..... just my thoughts on the matter...... - -- Wirchler wirchler@pacbell.net Note to self: If someone asks if you're a god, you say yes!! ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 Jun 1998 12:42:35 EDT From: Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Syndicate: Holding On To The Night" Notes: This takes place after the last Syndicate story I posted, "Syndicate: Termination", but you don't need to read the first to get this one, at least I don't think so. If you'd like to see it, e-mail me at KylenRevik@aol.com and I'll mail it off. It also takes place after "Becoming II". Disclaimers: The Syndicate and its players (except for Snyder) are mine and may not be used without my permission. The rest is Joss' and I don't control it. Feedback: Yes, please! ~ "Holding On To The Night" By Rachel Brody She felt the tears running down her cheeks, knew there was something wrong with what she was doing-- running. She knew she should never have done this, and some part of her even sincerely regretted having taken the actions she'd taken so far. But she couldn't let this go. She couldn't let go of everything she'd done, she couldn't let go of the memories, and she couldn't let go of the people she cared about. Which meant she had to leave it all, so it wouldn't be ripped from her grasp like everything else she had ever cared about. Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat as she choked on another sob, her legs curling up beneath her on the bus seat, her bag next to her, praying there would be some way to keep from showing the rest of the world what she felt. The bus had been driving for nearly a day now, with breaks every few hours. She hadn't looked up the entire time. She knew eventually she would reach her destination, but when that would be she didn't know. She hadn't even paid attention when she'd bought the ticket, she had just asked for whatever ticket it was her money would buy. Fate could spin the wheel of chance for her, she had decided as she'd tried to decide on where to go. Fate had covered everything else in her life, up to now. Maybe it would be best if she let it keep going like that, didn't try to make an effort to direct her own life. So she had left, deciding that if fate had wanted her to stay, it wouldn't have stolen everything she loved. Her mother, her friends, her life. She wouldn't let herself think of the last thing she'd lost, or she would never be able to find the ability to carry on. "Miss," came a voice from the aisle, "is this seat occupied?" Buffy looked up, knowing her eyes were red from tears, knowing she was presenting the perfect picture of a classic runaway. The man who had spoken looked to be in his early-to-mid- twenties, wearing a leather jacket, with long, blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. He presented a certain appearance of breeding and flair that made her wary of believing that he was simply another guy off the streets. She shrugged and picked up her bag, putting it at her feet and making room, not saying anything for fear that her voice might break. He watched her, and although her eyes were on the scene passing by outside the window as the bus pulled away from the station, she could feel his eyes on her. Just as she began to get the feeling that she'd just as soon have him speak and get it over with, she heard his voice. "A bit young to be traveling by yourself, one might think." She looked back at him, glaring. He smiled slightly, as though he was amused by her anger. "And yet, you seem as though you would be too sensible a young woman to do something which would put you in danger." His smile widened. "Which might lead one to ask, what is it about you that makes you think you can handle whatever is thrown your way?" He waited a long few seconds, but when Buffy refrained from answering, he shrugged and nodded toward her duffle bag. "Adolescents are the same in any era, aren't they." He shook his head. "We run from that which we are loathe to face, and yet somehow it always returns to haunt us." "Excuse me," Buffy finally managed to say, almost keeping her voice from trembling, "but I'd kind of prefer if you shut the hell up and leave me alone." "Very well," he said, "I can be quiet, of course, and yet somehow I doubt very much that you'll ever find yourself left alone, at least until you face whatever demons it is you're running from." He smirked slightly, pulling the sunglasses down slightly so he was peering at her over them, his eyes bright and quick. "Your aura, my dear, is simply breathtaking." "My _aura_?" she hissed, nearly snapping in his face. "Yes," he replied. Then he smiled, pulling a small wad of bills from a pocket she hadn't previously noticed. "Here," he said, "young Slayer." Her suspicion growing by orders of magnitude, Buffy's eyes narrowed slightly. "How do you--" "How do I know who you are?" The man smiled slightly, shaking his head and pulling a business card from nowhere. "Newell Burbank," he said with a smile, passing her the small piece of stiff paper. She glanced over it, raising an eyebrow when she saw the logo. A burning cross. "Tasteful," she said, giving him a sour smile. "Isn't it, though?" "And what kind of name is the Syndicate?" she asked, her voice holding no trace of humor. "A worthy one," he said with a shrug. Then he smiled slightly. "You may keep the card, young Slayer," he said as the bus pulled to a stop and pressing the bills into her palm. "As well as the money. And...you might think of lightening up on yourself, Slayer. You've been screwed over, time and again, I know." The smile widened as Buffy glanced to the window and realized they had hit the end of the line. "Think of this as a new beginning," Burbank told her. "A chance to live without those bastards screwing you to the wall every chance they get. You're free." Not wanting to admit that his words made a certain amount of sense, Buffy reached under the seat to grab her duffle. "And feel free to contact me. Whenever you wish." "Thanks," Buffy said, dragging her duffle out from under the seat, "but I think I'll--" She broke off abruptly as she straightened and stood, realizing that Newell Burbank had vanished. Confused, with a sigh, Buffy moved toward the bus doors, not bothering to look at the sign that hung overhead as she walked out of the bus depot. She didn't care where she was, only that it wasn't Sunnydale. She could feel the tears she had been crying earlier, dried on her cheeks, and made a swipe at them, realizing that suddenly she didn't feel quite so much like crying. Looking around, Buffy smiled to herself, just a little. Free, she thought to herself, tasting the word with her mind. Burbank, wherever he had gone to, was at least right in that respect. They were all free. She, from her obligations, and maybe one day from the guilt that tailed her wherever she walked. The rest of them, from getting hurt by the things she had done to them. Maybe she would finally be able to start over, she thought as she left the bus terminal and started scouting for a cheap hotel, somewhere she could go where she wouldn't deplete the money she had withdrawn from her credit account and her savings account before she'd left Sunnydale. Not wanting to litter, but having no use for Burbank's card, Buffy simply slid it into her jeans pocket, promptly forgetting it had ever existed as she walked, ready for once in her life to meet whatever destiny she might find, because now she knew whatever it was, she would have had some say in selecting it. No longer was she going to be the pawn of some nameless, faceless organization that had simply stepped into her life one day and told her what to do. No, she was going to take a stand, have her say. She refused to let the Watcher Network trample her into the ground under their high- minded objectives, and she vowed to herself she wouldn't let them set her up to get hurt like she had been. For the first time in a long time, as Buffy walked, she felt like she might finally be regaining some sort of control over the crazy phenomenon she liked to call her life. THE END (for now) Comments to KylenRevik@aol.com, please. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 Jun 1998 20:24:31 +0100 From: "Mark Jones" Subject: BUFFYFIC: Diaries Hi! This is Willows diary, I've decided to make this into a kind of mini series and have all the characters think about what life would be like with out them... Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Summary: A quick look in Willows diary, none of the bad stuff has happened. Feedback: Yes, yes, yes!! I need to know what you think, so I can make the next parts better! Please! Rach@altitudeprods.demon.co.uk DIARIES - WILLOW *********************** Dear Diary, It’s me, the ever so helpful assistant to Buffy. When you think about it, that’s all I am. Buffy’s assistant. If she needs help I give it to her, when research has to be done, I help do it, without me they would be fine. Everyone chips in with research, everyone helps Buffy, I’m not unique. Xander has his jokes, Buffy’s the Slayer, Giles the watcher, Angel’s the Vamp and Cordelia has the one thing I’ve always wanted – Xander. Without me everyone would be fine. It’s strange to think that I have such little effect on everyone. I wish I did, I wish I was just a bit special, a bit unique. Oz is great though, I guess he must find me a bit special, a bit important, or why else are we together? But, is he the one that I really want, do I still want Xander????? Even though we are best friends and both seeing other people, I would love to be with him. If only he knew…but what about Oz? Life can be so tough, I mean I found today pretty normal, yet we researched about demons from the Middle Ages that could come back to terrorise Sunnydale, I mean is that actually normal? If anyone knew we did this, we’d probably all be put in the nut-house! Life is so complicated, I think the others are right when they tell me not to think so much! Goodnight, Willow. ************************ Feedback please! It's ever so important to me! Rach@altitudeprods.demon.co.uk ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 Jun 1998 14:11:00 PDT From: "Sara Barton" Subject: BUFFYFIC: Reflections (1/1) Title: Reflections Author: Sara B. Sara114@hotmail.com Note: This is just a little peice that I wrote. I just finished it today, and thought I'd send it to the list. I have been so busy lately that I haven't been able to read or write fiction, so I've been a little cranky lately. Anyway, just tell me what you think of it. Reflections (1/1) He stared into the mirror; the aged eyes never leaving, never blinking. As if in a daze, he would just sit and stare for hours on end like there was no other world around him. His eyes intent, he searched for something--anything. He prayed to for a glimpse...a small image of what he had so long lost but never forgotten. This was all he had left to do. He was alone. He was lost. He had nothing at all. He often wondered why he continued to live. What was the point? He had nothing to live for. But something kept him alive. Was it faith? No, he had not faith. He lost it when he lost himself. He lived alone in grief. A mirage of angst and suffering. It had been this way for so long. He was in more pain that he ever thought humanly possible. It was more intense everyday like a throbbing wound that infected his body and soul. It plagued him day and night, never letting him have a moments peace. He suffered in a vicious misery. As he stared into the dusty mirror, searching for a sign of himself as a person, all he could see was his reflection. But it wasn’t his; it was the reflection of every soul--every innocent man, woman, and child that he took the life of. It was the reflections of his victims. Thousands of them flashed before his eyes in that mirror; their faces etched in his mind. Those faces filled with the terror and the horror and the agony that he had so carelessly inflicted upon their lives before killing them. Everyday he would watch the reflections stare at him. The haunting vision of their pleading eyes so vivid. Guilt throbbed inside him, tearing at his insides like sharp claws. Their blood poured from his soul like the tears that fell from his eyes. Their cries pounding in his ears like the sobs that trembled in his body. Their last breath so hot on his neck like the ones he wished he had. This was what it was all about. Pain. Suffering. Agony. That is the way they made it to be. They wanted him so suffer for what he did. For what the demon did. That terrible beast that took over his body and raised hell on earth. It was never him that did those God-awful deeds; it was the demon. And as he sees the reflections of the deeds, it is his guilt that thrives inside him. He suffers for his one mistake...that foolish mistake that took everything from him. It killed him and killed his family and his friends. He was dead, but yet he sat there; alive and immortal staring at a mirror, forced to remember the past years. He tried to block it out; the visions, the nightmares, the cravings..... The cravings. The demon longed for one taste of the warm liquid on it’s lips. He could feel his stomach rumble loudly...begging and pleading for a feast of blood to quench it’s dire thirst and soothe the nearly out of control desire. But he couldn’t. He would never kill again. He would never feed off of another human being for as long as he lived, which could very well be forever. He pictured the dead animal blood that he now lived off of. A shudder rippled through his body. The longing for fresh blood was strong, and the old, stale blood made him nauseous. But it was all he had. He thought by now he would be used to it, especially after so long. It had been ninety-seven years since his last feed when he killed that gypsy girl. He remembered the searing pain--the intense burning feeling as if his body was on fire when the spell was put on him. He wished they had just killed him. But they wanted him to suffer. And he did....more than they knew. His stomach rumbled louder. He knew he had to eat. He tore himself away from the mirror and he stumbled out of the dirty building into the dark alley. The ground was wet and slippery from the rain which now fell so lightly on his face. He walked over to the dumpster and dug through but found nothing he needed. Nearly fainting from the stench, he stepped backward and grabbed onto a post for support, coughing loudly. A breeze blew through the ally, sending the smell of prey past him. Searching, his eyes land on a rat that scampered past him. He felt the rumble in stomach again. He knew this was going to be his meal. He stepped forward to stalk the small animal but it disappeared behind the dumpster. He dove after it, but lost the rat and crashed into trash cans and bags. Fuming, he flailed his arms in anger. He looked up to see a man in front of him. “God, you are disgusting,” the man said, looking at his filthy body. “This is really an unforgettable smell. This is the stench of death you’re giving off here. And the looks says, uh...Crazy Homeless Guy. It’s not good.” His anger grew intensely. “Get away from me,” he growled. “What are you gonna do, bite?” The man gasped and jumped back. “Horrors! A vampire!” He looked at the man in surprise, almost wanting to laugh at the irony. “Ah,” the man continued, “but you wouldn’t bite me on account of your poor, tortured soul. It’s so sad, a vampire with a soul. It’s so poignant.” He stared at the man, confused and shocked at his words; not understanding how he could know who he was. “Who are you?” “Let’s take a walk,” the man said. This is what Angel had to live for. ~*The End*~ Feedback, por favor! ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 Jun 1998 17:42:05 EDT From: Subject: Discuss: Re: BUFFYFIC: Reflections (1/1) Very well-written, technically speaking-- but a couple continuity errors. I'm posting to the list cuz I think they're important for other people to know, too. >He stared into the mirror; the aged eyes never leaving, never blinking. Angel can't see his reflection. At all. In "Out of mind, out of sight", Giles commented that it must be interesting to be invisible, and then the camera showed his reflection in the glass of a cabinet (something like that) and Angel said it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. >And as he sees the reflections of the deeds, it is his guilt that Skipped tenses hereabouts, something I've seen less of lately than usual. Careful about that. >It had been ninety-seven years since his last feed when he killed that >gypsy girl. And here, you might want to clarify that it's his last _human_ feeding. He's been killin' rats and stuff since then. Other than those, interesting. Well-written. You might want to go over stuff a time or two more before you post it, to make sure stuff like the above doesn't slip thru. :) Rachel ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 Jun 1998 18:09:20 EDT From: Subject: BUFFYFIC: Memories At Dawn 1/1 Title ~ Memories At Dawn 1/1 Author~ Shani ( TruPhile@aol.com ) Time~ After Passion, before Becoming I & II Rating~ I’d go with G Author’s note~ This fic takes place several years in the future. It’s basically a Buffy/Angel/Angelus story from Buffy’s POV. Comments of all sorts are more than welcome. I wrote this after I wrote a similar story for a Language Arts class, I just changed it to fit w/Buffy. The original story was from February, and was changed before Becomng I & II Disclaimer~ Buffy Summers, Angel/Angelus, Jenny Calendar, and Willow all belong to Joss Whendon, Mutant Enemy Productions, Kuzui Productions, Sandollar Productions, and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended. Story for entertainment purposes only. Memories At Dawn It was all there, just as she had left it. A dirty glass stood near the sink, a small book sitting casually on the table. She glanced around the apartment, her gaze finally resting on the stake in the center of the room. Slowly, without realizing what she was doing, she walked to the stake. Bending down, she reached for it, hesitating for a moment before picking it up. Her eyes glazed over for a moment, as if she were somewhere far away. She closed her eyes. She still remembered it as if it were yesterday, but it hadn’t happened yesterday, it happened years ago. She had just turned seventeen. She had loved him so much. She opened her eyes. Was she ready? Was she ready to go back to that night? A soft sigh escaped her lips. Yes. It was time, whether she was ready or not. Once again, she closed her eyes, ready to return to that night. It was her seventeenth birthday. After narrowly escaping the Judge, they had returned here. She had been cold, drenched with rain water. He offered her something to change into. They had let passion consume them. Neither one thinking or caring about what could happen. Having no idea the consequences that they would suffer. After he had killed Jenny Calendar, he went after Willow. It was then that she had to confront him. Buffy took a deep breath, calming herself for a moment. She was sitting in the same spot he had died. The same spot that she had destroyed him. She had come to kill him. They had fought violently for at least an hour. She finally managed to plunge the sharp wooden stake into his chest. It took him longer to turn to dust, longer than she thought was usual. Time seemed to slow. Buffy, almost eighteen, watched Angelus die. A tear ran down her cheek, followed by another, and another. She let them fall. Through the window, she saw the sun begin to rise. The brilliant colors illuminating the sky. She walked over to the unmade bed and lay down. She let her eyes close. A blanket of warmth and peace surrounded her. Buffy the Vampire Slayer got up. She glanced around the apartment. Her gaze this time settling on the figure in the doorway. There Angel stood, bathed in sunlight. His arms outstretched and welcoming. She ran to him. He folded her into his arms. Buffy looked into the apartment. Her lifeless body lay on the bed. Her young face looked at peace for the first time in over three years. Together, they disappeared in a flash of brilliant light only they could see. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ comments very welcome!! TruPhile@aol.com ------------------------------ End of buffyfic-digest V2 #241 ****************************** 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. 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