From: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com (buffyfic-digest) To: buffyfic-digest@lists.xmission.com Subject: buffyfic-digest V2 #254 Reply-To: $SENDER Sender: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Errors-To: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Precedence: bulk buffyfic-digest Wednesday, July 1 1998 Volume 02 : Number 254 In this issue: BUFFYFIC: Reflactions 6/7 BUFFYFIC: (2/?) In Opacitatem Habitant Modo BUFFYFIC: "Fallen From Grace" (9/11) BUFFYFIC: Existence, (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: Tue, 30 Jun 1998 21:45:19 EDT From: Subject: BUFFYFIC: Reflactions 6/7 Title~ Reflections 6/7 Author~Shani Timeline~ let’s say between Go Fish and Becoming I & II--Becomings will not happen here Summary~ Angelus becomes Angel, but has some thinking to do before going to Buffy...if he decides to go to Buffy at all. Disclaimer~ The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whendon, Mutant Enemy Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Productions, and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended. Story for entertainment purposes only. Feedback~ YES, YES, YES, YES!! Please send all comments to TruPhile@aol.com Authors Notes--PLEASE read~ In this piece of the story I have used the mourners Kaddish. It is a prayer said for the dead by their loved ones. The transliteration (pronunciation) is the exact of the accual hebrew. The translation is out of a jewish prayer book called a sidur. Xander hated Angel from the beginning. When Angelus took over and went on a killing spree, Xander hated him even more. Now that Angel was back, a human and with Buffy, Xander Harris hated Angel more than he ever had before. Cordelia watched Xander. Every time he looked at Angel he scowled. What Cordy couldn’t figure out is why. Did Xander hate Angel because Angel loves Buffy and Buffy loves him back? If he hadn’t hated him before he “turned” then she could understand, but this was stupid. She was being stupid. Her boyfriend was jealous of his best friend and her boyfriend. What did that say about her relashionship with Xander? Cordy put those thoughts aside. For now, she had to do her part to prepare. She wanted to do her part to prepare. Buffy was tired, she hadn’t slept very well last night. She wondered briefly about what would happen if her mother found out that she was the slayer. “Sorry mom, can’t talk now, I’ve gotta go hunt vampires.” Right. It would be so much easier if her mother knew. Maybe after all this golam stuff was over she’d talk to Giles about it. She went back to the book. , nt *That’s* what is written on the hand? ‘K, so t is what needs to be erased...’ Angel watched Buffy. She had stopped reading for a minute and was staring at the wall. He wondered what she was thinking. What went on in a seventeen year old slayers mind? That was a question he would never be able to answer. He wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to be able to answer that. Willow could not believe that they were going to go through with this. If it would save Buffy then it was worth it. The question was, would it save Buffy? Willow had almost lost Buffy too many times, she wouldn’t let this be the last time they worked on stopping evil together. Angel wouldn’t let Buffy die. Xander wouldn’t let Buffy die. Giles wouldn’t let Buffy die. And she wouldn’t let Buffy die either. Now that she had worked up some confidence, she continued her part of the plan. Oz was proud of Willow. She was very brave. From his observations, none of the people in the room would handle Buffy’s death very well. Hopefully, he wouldn’t find out how everyone got along without Buffy for a long, long time. “It’s time, Buffy.” Giles said slowly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Buffy ran alone along the streets of Sunnydale towards the warehouse. She hoped that she wasn’t too late. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Are you ready?” Dru asked, getting excited. “Soon.” Spike said, an evil grin spread across his face. “Soon.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Spike and Dru were not yet ready to bring the golam to life. It stood ungaurded as Buffy slipped into the main room of the warehouse. She snuck up to the golam and wrote the hebrew letters on it’s left hand. t aleph ] n mem , tuff The stone man began to shake, but before it could cause harm, Buffy erased the letter Aleph. The golam crumbled to dust. Buffy was startled by this response, in result she fell on the pile of dust that was once a golam. She hit her head slightly and was getting a headache but she would have to continue anyway. Behind her, she heard the sounds of fighting. The others would cover her while she performed the prayer for the dead, well, she hoped they could cover her. She looked at the book in front of her for a moment. At the top of the page was the hebrew. In the middle of the page was the transliteration. At the bottom of the page was the translation of the hebrew text into english. “Yis-ga-dal v’yis-ka-dash sh’may ra-ba. B’ol-ma dee-v’ra hir u-say, v’yam- leeh mal-hu-say. B’ha-yay-hon uv-yo-may-hon, uv-ha-yay d’hol bays yis-ro-ayl. Ba-a-go-la u-viz’man ko-reev, v’im-ru a-mayn. Y’hay sh’may ra-ba m’vo-rah, l’o-lam ul-ol-may al-ma-ya. Yis-ba-rah v’yish-ta-bah, v’yis-po-ar v’yis-ro-mam. V’yis-na-say v’yis-ha- dar, v’yis-a-leh, v’yis-ha-lal sh’may d’kud-sha b’rih hu; L’ay-lo min kol bir-ho-so v’shee-ro-so. Tush-b’ho-sa v’ne-heh-mo-sa, da-a- mee-ron b’ol-mo. V’im-ru o-mayn. Y’hay sh’lo-mo ra-ba min sh’ma-ya. V’ha-yeem a-lay-nu v’al kol yis-ra-ayl v’im-ru a-mayn. O-se sha-lom bim-ro-mov hu ya-a-se sha-lom o-lay-nu v’al kol yis-ra-ayl v’im- ru o-mayn.” Buffy said, completing the hebrew part. She continued. “Magnified and sanctified be the name of God throughout the world which He hath created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom during the days of your life and during the life of all the house of Israel, speedily, yea, soon; and say ye, Amen. May His great name be blessed for ever and ever. Exalted and honored be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, whose glory transcends, yea, is beyond all praises, hymns and blessings that man can render unto Him; and say ye, Amen. May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life for us and for all Israel; and say ye, Amen. May He who establisheth peace in the heavens, grant peace unto us and unto all Israel; and say ye, Amen.” Buffy finished. The pile of dust the had been the golam began to glow. The glowing light spread and soon surrounded everything in the room. Buffy awoke, finding herself in the warehouse. She wondered how much time had gone by. The light was gone and so was everyone that had been in the room. All that remained was a small white flower, lying in the spot that once belonged to the golam. She picked up the flower and stood. Feeling light headed she slowly made her way out of the warehouse and into the light of the morning sun. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 30 Jun 1998 20:06:55 -0700 From: taygeta@juno.com (Charity C. T.) Subject: BUFFYFIC: (2/?) In Opacitatem Habitant Modo TITLE: In Opacitatem Habitant Modo #2 Giles AUTHOR: Taygeta E-MAIL: taygeta@juno.com FEEDBACK: Please with a cherry on top! DISTRIBUTION: Sure, just tell me first. RATING: PG-13 DESCRIPTION: Buffy is blind, various POVs DISCLAIMER: The characters any such reference to Buffy the Vampire Slayer television series belong to their creator, Joss Whedon, and their owners, Mutant Enemy productions, Kuzui Productions, Sanddollar Productions, and 20th Century Fox. In other words, they do not belong to me. Copyright infringement not intended. ***************************** ***************** Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - - Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night ***************** In Opacitatem Habitant Modo #2 Giles By: Taygeta She's my responsibility. She's the slayer, and I, as her Watcher, am suppose to protect her. I failed. I couldn't stop them from taking her eyes, those vile creatures had locked me away from everything…locked me in a tiny room, dark and dank, with a putrid odor of blood and rotting flesh that clung to the stale air. There were no windows, and the door that trapped me into the repulsive abode leaked only a tiny stream of light at its base. That light was enough to keep my thoughts aligned…to keep my mind intact. That light alone distinguished the division between the sanctity of the sane and that of the hell of the mad. It is recalling my time spent there…hours that seemed like days and weeks on end…do I question her strength…do I wonder if the determination she displays goes beyond that a slayer gains when they are chosen. These questions have always lingered in my mind, but now, more than ever as I watch her train despite her handicaps. How can faith and strength be found when one is locked in a dark world…without a light to guide them? I was only in that confounded room for a few hours with the hope and the knowledge that I would be rescued, but there is no rescue for her and her eyes. Yet, she continues to fight the battle between good and evil, now, with more aggression and will than did she ever express before. The word, revenge, has come to mind a few times. I know the feeling of want…the desire to overtake that which hurt me…all this I experienced when I lost Jenny…all this I experienced, again, when I thought I was going to lose Buffy. But if this were the case, I fear more for her than I ever did before. Revenge is one of the fiercest forms of animosity, and that ferociousness flickered in eyes as animated, as they were blind. "Buffy…I do believe that's quite enough for today," I interjected as I noticed that she had been training for the past hour. She turned from the punching bag to face the direction of my voice, "Giles…this is not enough…I'm not ready for anything. If they were to attack, I don't even think I'll be able to react." Sighing, I approached her, "I know you want to fight them…to end all of this…and I do believe that much of that anger is from what they did to you and what you want to do to them. Revenge…that's what you want, isn't it Buffy? To fight those bloody demons that did this to you…to your life…to your sight?" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as she was heavily perspiring, it was difficult to tell whether any tears were left in her obsolete eyes, but they were there. Her eyes opened to reveal watered lashes and her continuous blinking was evident of her efforts to harness such expressions of grief. "Giles, as far as I know, I'm never going to get better…my eyes, what *she* did to them…they're never going to work ever again. I can feel them…they're there… I wake up in the morning, to the darkness I saw at night, and no matter how many days and weeks it has been since they almost won, I still ask myself, 'Why won't they work? Why can't I see?'" and as her voice cracked as her restrain gave way and thus tears spilt on her young, flushed cheeks as she looked up at me…as if she saw me, "Giles…w-w-why me?" I took the crying child…child…not slayer…not responsible young girl…but a child who had too much on her shoulders that knew too much of the unknown realm…into my arms. No matter the strength she held in her hands…no matter the power that had been bestowed upon her…she was truly a fragile little girl scared with the knowledge of the dark world. Her tiny form shook with tears that she had not dare to shed in my presence until now, and hearing her sobs and seeing only the tiniest fraction of unbelievable pain, the vows of rancor I had made previously seemed to falter somehow. No amount of malevolence on my part would assist Buffy in her future battle; she did not need me to add to that. She needed me to be, Giles, her Watcher, of whom she…*they*…made me learn to be. They are, indeed, my family, and I'll be damned if I was going to let anyone mess with my family. _____________________________________________________________________ You don't need to buy Internet access to use free Internet e-mail. Get completely free e-mail from Juno at http://www.juno.com Or call Juno at (800) 654-JUNO [654-5866] ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 1 Jul 1998 00:18:28 EDT From: Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Fallen From Grace" (9/11) Notes: Takes place the January or so of Angel's change. E-mail me for missing pieces. :) Disclaimers: Blake and the Coordinator, etc, are mine. The rest would appear to belong to High God Joss. Distribution: Not without my permission, please. Feedback: YES! To KylenRevik@aol.com, please, whether it be good or bad or something in-between. And now, on to the show! ~ Nine "It's been four hours," Pike said, moving toward the library door. "I'm going to get her." From where he was sitting, hunched over his books, Giles shook his head. "I don't believe that would be in anyone's best interests," he said stiffly. His initial anger at Pike's insults had melted away a few hours ago, and now all that was left was a desire to make the young fool realize just what it was he was dealing with here. He was suffering from something that seemed to affect anyone who became involved in affairs such as these-- Giles himself had been susceptible to it at first. The problem was, of course, the idea that just because one was fighting for what was good and just and right, one would necessarily survive every encounter with evil. It was something that both Willow and Xander had been quick to overcome, and Buffy had accepted it long before she had arrived in Sunnydale. Giles had, of course, assumed that Pike would not think himself the invincible sidekick. It seemed he had assumed wrong. "Yeah, well," Pike snapped, rounding back toward him, "in your opinion, all that'd be in her best interests would be for us to stay here and you to read those books and me to slowly lose my mind!" Slowly, ever so slowly, Giles let his eyes drift off the portion of the Codex he had been looking through for the past few hours, and fixed a cold glare on the interloper. "And in yours," he shot back, "the best course of action would be to rush into Angelus' haven, stakes drawn, ready for some sort of massive heroic action that would stand a better chance of getting everyone involved killed than it would of offering any sort of actual _assistance_!" It wasn't until he finished that Giles realizes how loud his voice was, and how well it would carry in the school. Even though it was after hours, that didn't mean the building would be empty. Pike looked at him for a few long seconds, motionless, before flipping him off and stalking out of the library, leaving the doors swinging behind him. Surprised by the reaction, Giles sat motionless for a few seconds before realizing it would probably be best for him to follow the young man and make sure he stayed out of the way during the fight, if there was a fight, which there would almost definitely be at some point or another before the night came to a close. * Funny, Buffy let herself think, how far she had come since the early days of her Slaying career. When Pike had first known her, she had been scared to death of everything around her. She'd assumed, in almost every situation, that somebody else would come and bail her out. Her parents, her friends, her Watcher-- There was a bitter thought, if ever there were such a thing. She had assumed Merrick was there to bail her out, always, and when things had turned out to move in quite another direction, she had been unprepared. And so he had died. She shoved that thought away as she stepped over the threshold of the mansion Angelus' directions had guided her to. Angelus, she thought with a mental curse, and his damned games. She had arrived at his apartment, and on the door she had found the first of a series of notes-- he was in the mood for a game, the letters said, and she was the one who was going to play them with him. Clues were scattered about, and when she got to the end of the line, she would find a prize. It was four in the morning. If this wasn't the end of the line, Buffy had a good mind to forgo clever chit-chat when she saw the bastard, and simply rip his wise-ass head off. She walked forward into the garden room, the place feeling eerily inhabited so late at night. She shivered, once, wondering what would happen if it turned out that Angelus was here, or if the same were true of Drusilla. Spike, she wasn't worried about. He was still confined to that wheelchair. She hid a small grin at that thought, raising a small penlight and moving it around the room, looking for whatever the next clue-- or whatever unpleasant prize Angelus might have cooked up. When she saw it, she nearly dropped the light. Fighting the urge to throw up whatever was left of the cafeteria lunch she'd had earlier in the day, Buffy moved a little closer-- close enough to make out the tweed suit this...person...had been wearing, and close enough to get a good, long look at just what it was that one could find in a human skull if one bashed it in far enough. "Sick, ain't it?" came a voice from behind her. Turning her back on the corpse, Buffy whirled to see Spike, watching her. Sitting in his wheelchair, hands on the wheels, smirking at her. "Disgusting," she snapped. "Where's Angel." Spike made a half-snorting sound. "You honestly think I'd just up an'--" he gave a half-laugh, looking genuinely amused, "--an' bloomin' _tell_ you?" Buffy felt her brow furrow, realizing he had a point. "Well, I guess that would be asking a lot--" "Not really," he said with a shrug, the humor abruptly fading from his expression. "Th'bloody sonuvabitch went to that club've yours." Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Ex-- excuse me?" she asked. Had Spike just..._told_ her? Freely? The vampire master shrugged. "Kick the bastard's bloody ass, more's the power to you," he muttered, his arms making a few quick movements to turn the direction of the chair. Buffy stared. Oblivious to her, Spike turned his wheelchair and rolled off down the hallway. A few seconds later, deciding it was better to take the help fate dropped into her lap when she could than to sit there and wonder what the hell had just happened, Buffy left the body in the garden and took off in the direction of the Bronze. * He fell out of nowhere, knocking Buffy to the pavement and sending her stake and flashlight skittering across the sidewalk and into the side of the closest building. Swearing at herself for being so careless, Buffy immediately started struggling, doing her best to get out of Angelus' grip. He laughed, getting off her and letting her go with a backward shove, then glowering at her. "You're losing your edge," he said with a grin. "S'that why they're trying to get rid of you?" Buffy's eyes narrowed even as she searched her peripheral vision for her flashlight and stake. The light had been out, a decision that had seemed wise at the time she'd made it and was seeming less so with each passing second. Shaking his head, Angel laughed slightly. "Did you like the present I left for you?" The body, she realized, suppressing an inward shudder of disgust at the state it had been in. "Yeah," she said. "You really know how to give a girl a warm fuzzy, you know that?" He shrugged. "I try," he said with a devious grin, taking a few more steps away and stopping to pick something up from the shadows. "What's this..." He straightened, and Buffy felt her heart sink. "You drop this?" Angelus asked, his voice full of feigned innocence as he held the stake up. He shook his head. "Not something you should be playing with, around me. It's just, well, that kind of thing doesn't give _me_ a 'warm fuzzy', as you put it." With a sudden flick of the wrist, Angel threw the stake over his shoulder, back further into the shadows, where it was completely out of reach. She gave him a sardonic look, shaking her head. "If you think making _you_ feel good appears anywhere on the list of things I wanna do this week, you're crazy," she snapped. With a frown, the vampire took a few steps back toward her. "Well," he shrugged, "you're doing it anyway." He gave her a sidelong smile. "Had a great time messing around with that new friend of yours." Suddenly remembering the specific reason she had come out looking for Angel tonight, Buffy's expression hardened. "Stay the hell away from Pike," she snapped. "You wanna duke it out with me, then go through _me_-- the torment-by-proxy thing is getting seriously stale." "I'm wounded," Angel said with mock melodrama, putting his hand over the place his heart supposedly rested. If, Buffy reflected, it hadn't been sucked out with everything else human about him when he had-- when he'd changed. "And here I thought me and your new boy-toy could shoot the breeze for a while without you going all possessive-psycho-bitch on me." He grinned. "Maybe I just wanted to make sure he was good enough for you, lover, you think of that?" With a snort, Buffy caught sight of a pile of crates across the alley. "You're full of shit," she snapped, glaring at him. Angel shrugged. "Eh, it was worth a try." Then he shook his head. "But you wanna be nasty, we can be nasty." He took a few steps toward her, and Buffy braced herself for an attack, shifting her weight so she would be all the more ready to launch herself at him when he came at her. The attack never happened. She wasn't sure of what was going on, but one second Angel appeared set to attack, and the next he was doubled over and gasping in pain. Buffy's eyes shifted view to the person standing behind him, and she felt terror and relief springing into the equation of her emotions when she saw who was standing there. Holding the flashlight Giles kept in his office, the long- handled steel job that Xander had often joked would be of more use as a blunt object with which to fend off football jocks than a lantern to guide Buffy's way through darkness, was Pike. Staring down at Angel, glaring, poised to strike again. But as she glanced at the vampire, Buffy realized there simply wasn't time to take Angelus down, not with Pike right here. "Let's go," she said, crossing to him and grabbing his arm, then moving to jerk him away. "Hold on a sec," Pike said, his tone almost one of confusion. Then he offered her a slight grin, nodding toward Angelus. "Aren't we gonna stake this motherfuckin' bastard?" Buffy shook her head. "No time. Come on." Angel's groans were slowly becoming softer. Pike looked at her, then back to the vampire. "One more hit, then," he said, a few seconds before he turned and smashed the heavy flashlight down on the small of Angel's back again. Buffy was surprised at the wince that took her over at the sound of the impact, when Angel moaned sharply. But some small part of her took a certain amount of satisfaction at seeing Pike cream the son of a bitch. Finished with his beating, Pike grinned and turned to her "Nobody tries to _eat_ me and gets away with it," he quipped, then he nodded. "Let's beat it, then." She nodded, grabbing his arm as they both took off, and hardly noticed when Pike let the flashlight drop so they could run even faster. ~ Comments to KylenRevik@aol.com, please! ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 01 Jul 1998 07:27:06 PDT From: "Andrea Newbery" Subject: BUFFYFIC: Existence, (1/1) Title: Existence Author: Andrea e-mail: anewbery@hotmail.com disclaimers: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and the WB. The song ‘Fallen from Grace’ is the property of Blue Rodeo. Summary: Angel realizes what he has become after being cursed by the gypsies. This is basically an escape from the last chapter of Repercussions, which is coming very slowly. :) Feedback: Please...good, bad, whatever. Thanks: Jenn and Rachel //The sun won't ever shine Not like it used to do And there will be moonlight in the sky Won't mean a thing to you Friends and relations say you've changed They say it's written in your face Better get used to living like this Now that you've fallen from grace// 'Please make this a dream.' The words rippled through the pain in Angel's mind. These memories running through his head couldn't be his, couldn't be real. He stifled a sob, visions of ugly deaths, deaths he had caused playing in his mind. He paced around in the darkness of the cellar the gypsies had locked him in. His hands held his head as he remembered the words they said to him, the hatred and revulsion in their eyes. He gripped his head tighter as the memory of a young gypsy girl dying in his arms rolled through his mind. Gagging at the images he collapsed on the floor, unable to believe the monster he had become. He remembered the last day he had seen the sun, the angry words he had flung at his parents before heading off to the pub. His head swam, so many deaths, so many deaths he had caused. A sob escaped him as he saw his mother's face, felt his teeth at her neck. He could feel the blood coursing down his throat as his mother's life faded, her eyes disbelieving. He shuddered, remembering the screams of his sisters as they found his mother's body and the joy with which he killed them. Rocking back and forth he tried to block the images, tried to convince himself they weren't real, but he could see his father's eyes to clearly, the horror and the fear that he looked at his son with. Sobbing he curled into the dirt, praying for oblivion. //And you will walk across the floor As the night becomes day There will be trouble coming round Sent down to test your faith And when the friends you used to wait for Stop coming round to your place You better get strong somehow Now that you've fallen from grace// He lay silent for hours, the tears stopped by the horror. It was too much, he couldn't absorb all the terror and destruction he had caused. He struggled to his feet, a strange sensation beginning in his middle, wrapping his arms tightly around himself he moved around the room. The feeling grew stronger, more familiar until he began to moan, realizing the demon still existed in him, still hungered in him. Pacing frantically around the room he tried to ignore the feeling, wanting desperately to subdue the memories of feeding, of the joy he had felt in the killings. Swallowing the disgust that rose in his throat he concentrated on overpowering the craving, afraid that if he saw a human he would be unable to stop himself. He stopped, his mind spinning wildly at his thoughts, only then realizing that he wasn't human any more, that he hadn't been human for a very long time. He stopped his pacing, smelling something outside that tore at his self-control. He could hear the gypsies talking softly, the thought flashing through his head for a moment that they may kill him as soon as he tried to leave. The craving increased, taking away his ability to think, he heard the growl low in his throat, felt the changes in his teeth. Reaching up he felt his face, felt the ridges and running his hand inside his mouth he felt the sharpness there. He fought against the almost overpowering urge to break through the door, to run out into the night and kill. He ran his hands over his face again, trying to join his memories with the feel of his face. He coughed, choking on the memories, taking deep breaths to calm himself, realizing as he did that he hadn't been breathing. Memories of his first nights as a vampire overcame him, memories of Darla as she’d taught him the pleasures of killing. He shook his head, unwilling to remember the joy he had felt while killing, unable to believe that he had loved it. Moving slowly towards the door, the craving leading him, he pulled it open, surprised at his strength. He walked up the stairs, expecting the gypsies to attack him any moment, praying that they would. He moved carefully out into the open air, fearful of what would happen next. He saw the gypsies hiding in the shadows but he kept moving forward, terrified he would lose control. He felt the demon raging inside him, ordering him to feed, to kill, but he ignored it, moving slowly towards the place he used to call home. Dru, the memory of what he had done to her tormenting him, he felt the need to rescue her, he couldn't just abandon her to Spike. Walking hesitatingly down the stairs into their hideout, standing in the middle of the room, looking at Spike and Dru sprawled out on the floor, sated from blood. His stomach turning he watched them, sickened to think he had once been happy to be with them, to kill with them. Spinning around silently he left without saying a word, realizing he would find no comfort in Dru's arms, no pleasure in Spike's company. //Better get used to the sorrow Better get used to the pain Don't even worry about tomorrow You know it's only today all over again// He wandered aimlessly throughout Europe for years. Feeding only on rats and dead animals, only ever enough to keep himself alive. He wanted to die, found himself praying endlessly for some release from the guilt at what he had done. He hadn't seen Spike of Dru since the night he had been given back his soul. He winced at the thought of the torture he put Drucilla through, of how he had stolen her sanity. Walking slowly down a dark alley, he wondered again why he didn't end it, why he didn't lay down until the sun came up and ended this torture. Was he afraid of Hell? He laughed bitterly at the thought, knowing that there was no way Hell could be any worse than the existence he lived now. Other vampires avoided him, the legends of the horror he had committed following him. He was glad they feared him, glad that they left the towns he was in, left the people in relative safety. He spent his nights thinking of his crimes, picking out one death to mourn, one life to cry for. It was the only way he could handle it, the guilt was too strong. He would kneel in the dirt, head low and let the memories of one death pour through him while he cried. He would let the guilt for the death absorb him until the first signs of the approaching dawn. Then he would find a place to hide, hopeful every time that he wouldn't make it that the sun would rise too fast and take him with it. And every morning as he once again hid he realized why he continued, why he would always continue. He would suffer for the pain he had caused, the gypsies had a right to their vengeance and he would not take it from them. He would give them the satisfaction of seeing him suffer for all eternity. //Never mind the paper and the pen They can't help you anymore Forget about the music That used to lift up your soul And when the lover that you lean on Turns round and shows you a stranger's face Better get used to living like this Now that you've fallen from grace Better get used to living like this Now that you've fallen from grace// Running became his life, running from memories, from town after town that he had left his mark in. So many people dead, so many lives ruined. The monstrosity that he was astounded him, every new death he remembered shocked him as much as the memory of the first one had. He searched all of Europe for a moment of forgetfulness, one second when the horror of what he was released its grasp on him. He tried everything, the music he used to lose himself in for hours as a human. The drawing's that used to consume him, everything he drew now was full of death. He looked around his room, at the pictures of crimes he committed spread all over the floor. Laying on the floor among his pictures, feeling unbearable guilt for these people who didn't even have names in his mind, just memories of whether or not they fought him. Feeling the tears of remorse welling in his eyes again he struggled to his feet, running once more. He wandered down a deserted street, barely noticing a couple embracing in the shadows until the way the woman moved prodded at his memory. He remembered a beautiful blonde haired woman that he had loved and killed with. He walked closer, feeling a pit of dread forming in his stomach. The woman was dressed in a kimono, her blond hair pinned up from her neck. He stared horrified as memories of nights spent taking blood from that neck coursed through him. She turned slowly, sensing his presence, her face contorted in the demon's shape. The tears coursing down his face he stumbled backwards, running from the street, ignoring her voice calling after him. 'Darla' her name running through his head, he could remember loving her so clearly, but she was a monster like him, he couldn't be near her. He found himself hanging around the waterfront two weeks later while searching for one of the rats that were so plentiful around the water. Watching the passengers laughing as they boarded the boat. He stared wistfully at them from the shadows, his hunger temporarily subdued. He watched them board with so many hopes for what the journey could bring them. Glancing back at the land that he had killed so many on he moved quickly through the shadows, finding an empty cargo box and slipping into it. Maybe he would be discovered at sea, maybe the sunlight would find him and kill him, but maybe he would find some peace, some way to make amends in the New World. Closing his eyes he offered up one more prayer for the souls of those he had killed as the boat pulled away. ********* ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ End of buffyfic-digest V2 #254 ****************************** 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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