From: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com (buffyfic-digest) To: buffyfic-digest@lists.xmission.com Subject: buffyfic-digest V2 #310 Reply-To: $SENDER Sender: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Errors-To: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Precedence: bulk buffyfic-digest Wednesday, August 19 1998 Volume 02 : Number 310 In this issue: BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (5b/?) BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (5b/?) BUFFYFIC: Fwd: BBETA: All Out of Love 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: Wed, 19 Aug 1998 11:37:52 PDT From: "Cutter Kinseeker" Subject: BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (5b/?) TITLE: "Xander's Incredible Journey" AUTHOR: Cutter Kinseeker E-MAIL: ckinseeker@hotmail.com FEEDBACK: Yes! Yes! Yes! Tell me what you think, but constructive criticism only please. No "it sucks" type messages. DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first. RATING: Mostly PG-13 for language and adult themes. A couple of parts will be R. DESCRIPTION: In the aftermath of "Becoming," Xander sets out after Buffy and winds up "becoming" in his own right. DISCLAIMER: I don't own jack. Correction--jack's probably the only thing I do own. The rest belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the Frog Network. SPOILERS: Everything up to "Becoming". S S P P O A I C L E E R Chapter Five First Interlude *...In which Giles is rebuked by his Superior, Willow faces her Fears, Buffy runs from hers, Oz overcomes his Weakness, and two mysterious Strangers appear...* Part Two: Willow *...In which Willow faces her Fears...* It was out there, Willow knew, out there in the darkness, waiting for her. In her fear-heightened state, she could hear the creature's rustling movements. From time to time, she would catch a glimpse of it, a dark shape discernible from the darkness around it only by the fact of its motion. From time to time, she would even catch a brief sound that she was sure was the creature's raspy breathing. Willow tried to slow her own breathing by telling herself that it could hear her, but that only made her hitching breaths come faster and shallower. She realized that she couldn't keep this up much longer; another couple of minutes and she'd begin to hyperventilate. She briefly considered calling for help, but then she remembered that she was alone in the house. Her parents had gone off to some town meeting or another, leaving their daughter at home alone only after her stringent protestations that she would be perfectly fine had won them over. Now, however, she was beginning to regret her brash statements. Her head had begun to throb painfully only a few minutes after the elder Rosenbergs had departed and Willow opted to turn in early. She took half of a painkiller tablet the doctors had given her--some sort of codeine derivative, she thought--and promptly went under. When she woke up an indeterminate time later, it was fully dark, no light at all coming through her curtained windows, marking it as being well past nine PM. Laying in bed, lounging in the drowsy after-effects of the sedative, that was when she first knew that she was not alone in her room. At first, she had chalked up her feelings to drugged paranoia--lord knows, she wasn't used to this sort of thing--but had quickly come to realize that she wasn't just having an anxiety attack. The thing in the room with her was *real*, it was out there, and it was going to come for her eventually. Her opponent was real--as real as her fear for Buffy, as real as her worry for Xander. But try as she might, Willow found that she could not prevent her thoughts from wandering. Focusing on the threat to her life was hard; her sleep- and medication-addled mind, normally so keen, was floating. If she didn't stay focused, there was a significantly real possibility that she could die. Despite all of the fear flowing through her, she found herself thinking about Buffy and Xander, or counting ceiling tiles, or watching the flickering shadows at her window, or playing "Anywhere But Here" against herself. Finally, her thoughts cleared, almost as though someone had flipped a switch. One moment, she had been confused and half-asleep; the next, her terror was so sharp that she could cut leather with it, but at least she was thinking straight. Why hadn't it attacked yet? Deciding that it didn't matter, her left hand quietly crept under the mattress, seeking out the stake she had kept there since the night Angel had mailed her fish to her. Her right groped as softly as possible for the lamp beside her bed, grasping its pull-chain firmly. In the interminably long moments before the light came on, she considered her options. Simply springing out of bed at leaping at her attacker didn't sound good, so she picked plan B: keep as much distance between it and herself as possible. At last, the chain reached the end of its pull, and the light came on, throwing the room into sharp contrast, the sparse furniture casting eerie shadows on the wall hangings. Nothing. She looked again, trying to discern if there was anything she had missed. Still nothing. Had she been wrong? Were her reactions those of a frightened, injured teenage girl, jumping at shadows? She frowned; after all that she had been through, Willow could not accept that she was so easily cowed, that all it took to shatter her nerve was a strange noise and an odd shadow. Movement--to her right! Willow pivoted off the bed, her long nightshirt tangling in the blankets and impairing her motion. By the time she had gotten free of the sheets and stood up, there was nothing there. Willow starting walking backwards, a terrible notion in her mind; there had been something familiar about that shadow, something that she couldn't quite place. And had it crawled under her bed? Willow continued toward the door at a steady pace, not wanting to startle whatever it was with a sudden movement. After what seemed an eternity of slow walking, Willow reached the door, her path into the safety of the hallway. She paused, consumed suddenly by a morbid curiosity to look on the face of her stalker. *No, darn it*, Willow thought to herself, struggling to conquer her treacherous body, *this is like a scene from a second-rate horror movie! I refuse to fall to the cliché that the "helpless, young girl" has to explore the dark, scary room alone. I'm going to go downstairs, call Oz, then call Giles, maybe even call my parents and the police, and to Hell with doing this myself!* But despite being a liberated nineties woman unwilling to succumb to the done-to-death routine of slasher films, succumb she did, moving away from the door and crouching to look under the bed. As she lifted the edge of the comforter which had been pulled off in her struggles, Willow hefted the stake in her right hand, ready to impale whatever Hell-spawned monster might be lurking under there. Gradually, the space beneath her bed became visible, inspiring a burst of self-conscious laughing when Willow saw that the most dangerous creature under there were dust-bunnies. Relieved and somewhat chagrined, Willow made to stand up. When her eyes came level with the bed's surface, the laugh died in her throat with a sound akin to strangling. Willow began to turn slightly red, both with renewed terror and increased blood pressure. Her legs quaked, and she tumbled backwards away from the bed, skittering on all fours like a crab running from lemon and hot butter. Once her back was against the far wall, she put the stake between herself and the creature on the bed, hoping to intimidate it, but knowing it was useless. Her opponent would never be afraid of something as pitiful as a wooden stake. Willow stared across the room at the motionless creature, watching it watch her. She took note of its horrible features, so familiar and so frightening; saw its hideous mandibles and multi-faceted eyes; saw the fangs glistening with their poison; saw the black, red, and yellow sheen of its body. Willow had seen this kind before, but never one so grotesquely large, never this close, and not for a very long time. Willow faced her nightmare, here in her very room, a place that was supposed to be her sanctuary from the creatures of the night. In short, Willow was looking at a black widow spider as big as her head. Her fear of all spiders had stemmed from this very breed. Bitten in a city park as a child, Willow had nearly died from the widow's bite before she received the antivenin that negated its poison. Though only seven years old, she remembered the doctor's admonition not to get bitten by one again--the antidote could only be given to a person once in their life. In retrospect, she supposed that the doctor hadn't meant to frighten her so badly with this warning, but it had led to years of nightmares and any number of worries to her over-protective parents. And until now, she had never laid eyes on another black widow. Until now, when she was seeing what had to be the largest black widow in the world. To calm herself down, she began to recite number theories in her mind, counting binary number clusters for her programming class. It helped greatly, both in terms of slowing her breathing and in calming her tremors. She stood slowly, so as not to disturb the widow, and began to edge sideways toward the door again. Willow kept her eyes on the spider the whole time, looking at it analytically, doing her best to keep her emotions (namely, mind-numbing fear) out of the assessment. Finally, Willow reached the door, and let herself out as easily as possible. Once in the hall, Willow dropped the stake and made for the stairs, wondering the whole time how it had entered her room, where it came from, and how it had managed to grow to that size. In the end tally, she supposed that it didn't matter, only getting rid of the thing mattered now. Consumed in a red haze of anger, Willow went over her options, calculating the risks. There was only one course of action available to her, or at least only one that appealed to her. She made her way to the kitchen, reached under the sink, and pulled out the object she had been looking for. Smiling a grim, deadly smile, Willow returned to the door to her room. She pulled the tab on the canister, pushed in the button on top of it, and covered her mouth with her shirt as the first of the mist began to leak from the object. She opened her door, chucked in the bug bomb as though it were a grenade, and slammed the door shut again before the spider could escape. Listening to the hissing sound of the bug bomb through the door, Willow couldn't help wondering if she had perhaps gone a bit overboard, maybe used a level of force that could be considered excessive. *Nah.* Willow fell asleep on the living room couch. When her parents came home, they found her dozing there so contentedly that they didn't have the heart to move her. The smile didn't leave Willow's face the whole night. END CHAPTER FIVE, PART TWO ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 19 Aug 1998 11:39:37 PDT From: "Cutter Kinseeker" Subject: BUFFYFIC: Xander's Incredible Journey (5b/?) TITLE: "Xander's Incredible Journey" AUTHOR: Cutter Kinseeker E-MAIL: ckinseeker@hotmail.com FEEDBACK: Yes! Yes! Yes! Tell me what you think, but constructive criticism only please. No "it sucks" type messages. DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first. RATING: Mostly PG-13 for language and adult themes. A couple of parts will be R. DESCRIPTION: In the aftermath of "Becoming," Xander sets out after Buffy and winds up "becoming" in his own right. DISCLAIMER: I don't own jack. Correction--jack's probably the only thing I do own. The rest belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the Frog Network. SPOILERS: Everything up to "Becoming". S S P P O A I C L E E R Chapter Five First Interlude *...In which Giles is rebuked by his Superior, Willow faces her Fears, Buffy runs from hers, Oz overcomes his Weakness, and two mysterious Strangers appear...* Part Two: Willow *...In which Willow faces her Fears...* It was out there, Willow knew, out there in the darkness, waiting for her. In her fear-heightened state, she could hear the creature's rustling movements. From time to time, she would catch a glimpse of it, a dark shape discernible from the darkness around it only by the fact of its motion. From time to time, she would even catch a brief sound that she was sure was the creature's raspy breathing. Willow tried to slow her own breathing by telling herself that it could hear her, but that only made her hitching breaths come faster and shallower. She realized that she couldn't keep this up much longer; another couple of minutes and she'd begin to hyperventilate. She briefly considered calling for help, but then she remembered that she was alone in the house. Her parents had gone off to some town meeting or another, leaving their daughter at home alone only after her stringent protestations that she would be perfectly fine had won them over. Now, however, she was beginning to regret her brash statements. Her head had begun to throb painfully only a few minutes after the elder Rosenbergs had departed and Willow opted to turn in early. She took half of a painkiller tablet the doctors had given her--some sort of codeine derivative, she thought--and promptly went under. When she woke up an indeterminate time later, it was fully dark, no light at all coming through her curtained windows, marking it as being well past nine PM. Laying in bed, lounging in the drowsy after-effects of the sedative, that was when she first knew that she was not alone in her room. At first, she had chalked up her feelings to drugged paranoia--lord knows, she wasn't used to this sort of thing--but had quickly come to realize that she wasn't just having an anxiety attack. The thing in the room with her was *real*, it was out there, and it was going to come for her eventually. Her opponent was real--as real as her fear for Buffy, as real as her worry for Xander. But try as she might, Willow found that she could not prevent her thoughts from wandering. Focusing on the threat to her life was hard; her sleep- and medication-addled mind, normally so keen, was floating. If she didn't stay focused, there was a significantly real possibility that she could die. Despite all of the fear flowing through her, she found herself thinking about Buffy and Xander, or counting ceiling tiles, or watching the flickering shadows at her window, or playing "Anywhere But Here" against herself. Finally, her thoughts cleared, almost as though someone had flipped a switch. One moment, she had been confused and half-asleep; the next, her terror was so sharp that she could cut leather with it, but at least she was thinking straight. Why hadn't it attacked yet? Deciding that it didn't matter, her left hand quietly crept under the mattress, seeking out the stake she had kept there since the night Angel had mailed her fish to her. Her right groped as softly as possible for the lamp beside her bed, grasping its pull-chain firmly. In the interminably long moments before the light came on, she considered her options. Simply springing out of bed at leaping at her attacker didn't sound good, so she picked plan B: keep as much distance between it and herself as possible. At last, the chain reached the end of its pull, and the light came on, throwing the room into sharp contrast, the sparse furniture casting eerie shadows on the wall hangings. Nothing. She looked again, trying to discern if there was anything she had missed. Still nothing. Had she been wrong? Were her reactions those of a frightened, injured teenage girl, jumping at shadows? She frowned; after all that she had been through, Willow could not accept that she was so easily cowed, that all it took to shatter her nerve was a strange noise and an odd shadow. Movement--to her right! Willow pivoted off the bed, her long nightshirt tangling in the blankets and impairing her motion. By the time she had gotten free of the sheets and stood up, there was nothing there. Willow starting walking backwards, a terrible notion in her mind; there had been something familiar about that shadow, something that she couldn't quite place. And had it crawled under her bed? Willow continued toward the door at a steady pace, not wanting to startle whatever it was with a sudden movement. After what seemed an eternity of slow walking, Willow reached the door, her path into the safety of the hallway. She paused, consumed suddenly by a morbid curiosity to look on the face of her stalker. *No, darn it*, Willow thought to herself, struggling to conquer her treacherous body, *this is like a scene from a second-rate horror movie! I refuse to fall to the cliché that the "helpless, young girl" has to explore the dark, scary room alone. I'm going to go downstairs, call Oz, then call Giles, maybe even call my parents and the police, and to Hell with doing this myself!* But despite being a liberated nineties woman unwilling to succumb to the done-to-death routine of slasher films, succumb she did, moving away from the door and crouching to look under the bed. As she lifted the edge of the comforter which had been pulled off in her struggles, Willow hefted the stake in her right hand, ready to impale whatever Hell-spawned monster might be lurking under there. Gradually, the space beneath her bed became visible, inspiring a burst of self-conscious laughing when Willow saw that the most dangerous creature under there were dust-bunnies. Relieved and somewhat chagrined, Willow made to stand up. When her eyes came level with the bed's surface, the laugh died in her throat with a sound akin to strangling. Willow began to turn slightly red, both with renewed terror and increased blood pressure. Her legs quaked, and she tumbled backwards away from the bed, skittering on all fours like a crab running from lemon and hot butter. Once her back was against the far wall, she put the stake between herself and the creature on the bed, hoping to intimidate it, but knowing it was useless. Her opponent would never be afraid of something as pitiful as a wooden stake. Willow stared across the room at the motionless creature, watching it watch her. She took note of its horrible features, so familiar and so frightening; saw its hideous mandibles and multi-faceted eyes; saw the fangs glistening with their poison; saw the black, red, and yellow sheen of its body. Willow had seen this kind before, but never one so grotesquely large, never this close, and not for a very long time. Willow faced her nightmare, here in her very room, a place that was supposed to be her sanctuary from the creatures of the night. In short, Willow was looking at a black widow spider as big as her head. Her fear of all spiders had stemmed from this very breed. Bitten in a city park as a child, Willow had nearly died from the widow's bite before she received the antivenin that negated its poison. Though only seven years old, she remembered the doctor's admonition not to get bitten by one again--the antidote could only be given to a person once in their life. In retrospect, she supposed that the doctor hadn't meant to frighten her so badly with this warning, but it had led to years of nightmares and any number of worries to her over-protective parents. And until now, she had never laid eyes on another black widow. Until now, when she was seeing what had to be the largest black widow in the world. To calm herself down, she began to recite number theories in her mind, counting binary number clusters for her programming class. It helped greatly, both in terms of slowing her breathing and in calming her tremors. She stood slowly, so as not to disturb the widow, and began to edge sideways toward the door again. Willow kept her eyes on the spider the whole time, looking at it analytically, doing her best to keep her emotions (namely, mind-numbing fear) out of the assessment. Finally, Willow reached the door, and let herself out as easily as possible. Once in the hall, Willow dropped the stake and made for the stairs, wondering the whole time how it had entered her room, where it came from, and how it had managed to grow to that size. In the end tally, she supposed that it didn't matter, only getting rid of the thing mattered now. Consumed in a red haze of anger, Willow went over her options, calculating the risks. There was only one course of action available to her, or at least only one that appealed to her. She made her way to the kitchen, reached under the sink, and pulled out the object she had been looking for. Smiling a grim, deadly smile, Willow returned to the door to her room. She pulled the tab on the canister, pushed in the button on top of it, and covered her mouth with her shirt as the first of the mist began to leak from the object. She opened her door, chucked in the bug bomb as though it were a grenade, and slammed the door shut again before the spider could escape. Listening to the hissing sound of the bug bomb through the door, Willow couldn't help wondering if she had perhaps gone a bit overboard, maybe used a level of force that could be considered excessive. *Nah.* Willow fell asleep on the living room couch. When her parents came home, they found her dozing there so contentedly that they didn't have the heart to move her. The smile didn't leave Willow's face the whole night. END CHAPTER FIVE, PART TWO ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 19 Aug 1998 14:22:34 -0500 (CDT) From: treycash@ix.netcom.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Fwd: BBETA: All Out of Love 1/2 TITLE: All Out Of Love 1/2 FEEDBACK: I would be thankful. DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Ask and you shall receive. AUTHOR: Alex Queirolo E-MAIL ADDY: treycash@ix.netcom.com SITE: http://www.angelfire.com/co/alexfic/index.html SPOILER WARNING: Um. None. RATING: PG-13. Language and violence. CONTENT: Some swearing. Some fighting. Some angsting. SUMMARY: The continution of the Becoming Saga..even though Angel's broken through Buffy's defenses, the Slayer is still falling apart. THE BECOMING SAGA ALL OUT OF LOVE By: Alex Queirolo AUTHOR'S NOTES: This little ditty takes place after Becoming Part 2. It's a story about the future of B/A after her return. It comes after the story "Against All Odds". Slowly, some of the details that were so vague before are becoming known.. STORY NOTES: This is is the second part of what is "planned" to be a four part series. Three stories plus an epilogue. However, you never know, if I get disgruntled enough, I could just drop the series and let the stories I have stand on their own. I'm whacky like that. ;-) DEDICATION: To my sister who helped me decide where I was going with this and then kicked me(and boy did that hurt) until I wrote it. And to Erana because you just bloody rock. DISCLAIMER: The characters of Buffy, Angel and the Scooby Gang belong to Joss "Da Man" Whedon and his AMAZING staff of writers. It also belongs to the WB, FOX, Mutant Enemy and SandDollar and I'm sure there are a few other sorted characters with their hands in the pie. Also, the title comes from a Air Supply song. The song quoted throughout this piece is "Can't We Try" by Dan Hill. And long live the best romance on the show(you listening Joss?) B/A. "I see your face cloud over like a little girls and your eyes have lost their shine you whisper something softly I'm not meant to hear Baby, tell me what's on your mind" She stood facing the bartender, her hands flat on the polished wood of the bar. She could feel him behind her, hovering, uncertain of what to say to her. Ever since their reunion of sorts, she'd been so mercurial and he'd been accutely aware of upsetting her. She whispered something. Whether to him or the barkeep, her words were simple. "I can't take this." She dipped her head down and away from him. He stepped a foot forward and touched her shoulder, turning him to her. "Please," she whispered before dropping her head to his chest. "It's okay," Angel said softly, wrapping his arms around her. He nodded to the barkeep who was wearing a look of concern and then gently moved her away from the bar and towards the dance floor of the Bronze. It wasn't his intention to dance but the table they all usually sat at was at the other side. "Home." She begged, half-way across the floor. "I don't..just take me home." He could feel how lax her body was becoming in his grasp. Not neccesarily relaxed so much as weak. The dreams again, no doubt. They'd always plagued her; the Slayer was prone to nightmares. These were worse. More personal. He had little doubt that something had happened to her during her three month absense in the summer after her junior year of high school. Unfortunately, his lover refused to talk and he didn't want to push her anymore than he already had. "Okay," he said. He led her over towards the door."I'll go grab your jacket. You stay here." Angel said softly, reluctantly pulling her arms away from his torso. He lifted her hand and kissed it and then leaned forward and did the same to her lips. "I'll be right back." She nodded and sank into a chair next to the door. She watched him move across the floor towards the table where her best friends were playing a rowdy game of poker. How little they knew. They walked on egg-shells around her, afraid of breaking the little Slayer. How could she possibly explain to them that she had been broken and rebuilt so many times that she was beginning to wonder if all the pieces still existed. "I don't care what people say about the two of us from different worlds I love you so much that it hurts inside" "Hey Dead Boy, what's up?" Xander asked idly as Angel approached. To his credit, he was doing his best to keep the open anomosity out of his voice. Angel shot him an annoyed look and then reached for Buffy's leather jacket. The one he'd given her. "She's tired. I'm going to take her home." Angel replied, glancing over Willow's shoulder at her cards. He frowned. "Fold." She glared up at him and then reached into her pile of M&M's and took out two red ones. "I see your one and raise you another." Angel shrugged. Xander frowned, looked at Cordelia who was wearing a big wolf of a grin and then sighed and tossed his cards. Willow giggled and dropped hers down. "Son of a..you had nothing!" Xander cried. He looked at Angel. "She had nothing." "I see that. Goodnight guys." He took the jacket and started back towards Buffy, stopping half-way when he noticed that she had dropped her head into her hands. The guilt was almost immediate. They'd met in an alley a little over a year ago and from there everything had exploded. They both knew that they should have enjoyed that "last" kiss in the Bronze together and then walked away forever. Their worlds were never supposed to mesh. He was a vampire, his demon self vicious and brutal. She was the Slayer, a small insecure child tangled up in a web of death and pain that she could neither understand nor escape. And yet they were both tied to each other. Forever. No matter how much it hurt. And hurt it did. Everytime he held her while she cried or watched her take out her anger and pain on her enemies, it tore at him. He wanted so badly to just wrap her up in his arms and take her away from all of it. Promise her the happy endings she more than deserved. But he could never do that. And he could never offer her false hope. Because that might hurt worse. "Buffy?" He said quietly so as not to startle her. He heard a quiet sniffle as she raised her blonde head to look at him through tired eyes. Seventeen year old eyes that had seen more death and pain then most people see in a lifetime. Blue eyes that were now wet with unleashed tears. "I'm okay." She said weakly, hoping that she could convince him even if she couldn't convince herself. "Home. I'm in need of my home." Angel nooded and wrapped a strong arm around her, supporting most of her weight as he led the exhausted Slayer home. He only wished he could do more. "Are you listening? Please listen to me girl.." He watched from outside the window as her mother fussed over her, needing to make sure her little girl was alright. She was having as much trouble as the others realizing that Buffy wasn't who she had once been and maybe, just maybe, that small child of before no longer existed. He'd broken through. Hurt her with words. Brought her to her knees and made her admit that she needed him as badly as he did her. Now was harder. Her walls were still up, even if they now had windows. She would let him in but if he pushed too hard, she'd close off beneath a sheet of tears. And perhaps she even knew that he wasn't willing to push much harder. He wanted to talk to her. About anything. About everything. Like they used to. About the way the sun burned her skin, about how her teachers pissed her off, about the nightmares that kept her awake at night. Anything more than just the demons that walked around at night in need of an ash tray for a home. But they never did. She kept him at arms' length, talking to him, pretending to let him in. But he knew better. And he knew that she wasn't hearing him either when he swore that he wouldn't ever let her go. Closing his eyes, he turned away from the window, leaving his lover in the care of her mother. And yet he still didn't go far. He found a dark spot on her roof and watched her from there, waiting for the dreams to come and prepared to be there to help if she'd let him. "Can't we try just a little bit harder Can't we give just a little bit more Can't we try to understand that it's love we're fighting for?" He had almost dozed off. That was dangerous in Sunnydale. He could have woken up anywhere. Shaking the sleep from his tired body he glanced toward Buffy's now darkened room. No noise came from the room, but that wasn't neccesarily good. Creeping along the roof, he angled himself toward her window. Of course that's when everything decided to go topsy-turvy. One moment he had been outside the next he was flat on his back inside his lovers' bedroom with a very angry and potentially deadly Slayer ready to turn him into dust. She raised the stake higher forcing the need to think fast. He jerked his hips knocking her back in to the wall. Moving quickly he grabbed her wrist forcing her to release the stake. It dropped harmlessly to the ground."Buffy!" Angel roared yanking her against him. He was vaguely aware of the sounds coming from her stereo and it occured to him that they were probably ensuring that Joyce Summers didn't hear the struggle from her bedroom down the hall. She struggled against his chest, her fingernails scratching down his chest as she tried to pry herself loose. The more she struggled, the harder he squeezed, grimacing against the pain she was causing. His skin still hadn't completely recovered from first being numb and then hyper-sensitive. "Buffy, wake up." Angel hissed into her ear. He tried to shake her a bit, hoping to bring her to her senses but stopped almost immediately when he felt her nail pierce the skin of his forearm. Frustrated, he pulled back and hit her across the face, leaving a large red point of impact. Immediately he cursed himself when he saw her cringe away, eyes now open and alert. Damn damn damn. She'd come back to her senses right before he'd hit her. He glanced down at his arm and saw a stream of blood dripping down it. It hurt. It hurt like hell. He grimaced and then turned his attention to his lover. "Buffy, are you okay?" She blinked, "What are you doing here?" He smiled shyly, hoping to get equal reaction. "I was just checking up on you. I was worried." "I'm fine. I..I just had a dream. It wasn't so bad." "You were sleep-walking..and attacking. That's new." "Sorry." She replied sheepishly. She rubbed her cheek absently. "Why did you hit me?" "You tried to stake me. By the way, assuming that I am the only vampire allowed admittance to your room, why are you sleeping with a stake?" She gave him a funny half-smile. One that was somewhat amused but more pained. "You never know what can happen." He felt his body go cold. Angelus. Angel. They were still linked in her mind. It explained the tension he could sometimes still feel when he held her. "I thought...I thought we talked about that." "We did." She looked down at her hands. "I trust you.." "No you don't. Don't lie to me." Fury sparked in her eyes. She took a step towards him, the stake somehow back in her hand. He blinked wondering how the hell she'd gotten it but didn't have long to contemplate it before she'd shoved it up against his chest. "You'd be wise not to call me a liar." "So is this how it's gonna be? You're gonna keep picking fights?" "Me?" Buffy cried, inadvertingly pushing the stake harder against him. He winced as it cut into his flesh. He growled and shoved her away. "Go ahead, Slayer, play your games." His face morphed into his vampiric visage and he growled, anger yellowing his eyes. If he'd been thinking clearly, he would have seen the fear flash in her eyes and known that he had better back down. But dammit she pushed so hard. Growling once more, he leapt from the window and disappeared into the night. She watched him, a single tear trickling down her cheek. "Can't we try just a little more passion Can't we try just a little less pride I love you so much baby that it tears me up inside" He paced angry circles into the carpet of his apartment. God, she pissed him off so much. And only she could. She knew exactly where to push and just how much force it would take. Just like he knew how to infuriate her. And how to break her. Idly he wondered if she was still hurt that he had done that to her. Reminded her of what she had done. Reminded them both of what they had been through. Another thing they had yet to really talk to each other about. They knew the facts. They had made love and it had changed him into Angelus. Only that wasn't exactly true. Angelus was part of Angel but not the whole. What their lovemaking had done was bring his evil self front and center. And it had banished his soul to a place where all it could do was watch. Angelus had tried to break her. But what he had never realized, never grasped in his lunacy was that the only thing that could destroy the little Slayer was the love that had so driven her. Which meant that only he could hurt her. He. Angel. "Damn," Angel growled, removing his shirt and gazing down at the bright red marks her fingers had grooved into his chest. He traced a finger past one and winced. There were times when all he wanted to do was throw her down and kiss her but there was also other times when beating the hell out of her appealed greatly. Anything to get through to her. To make her see that the only thing that could save them both was what they already had. But it all came down to pride. And fear. She was the Slayer. One girl in all the world who was damned to destroy the forces of evil and eventually die doing so. And he was her vampire lover. He shook his head. It seemed that after all this time, things really didn't change. The vampire thing did keep coming up. "I hear you on the telephone to God knows who Spilling out your heart for free Ever wanted someone you can talk to Girl that someone should be me" "It's so hard Will. Evertime he's near I can't help but think of Angelus and that somehow this is all a trick.. And God forgive me sometimes I don't care." Buffy whispered into the phone. It was an evening later and she had yet to muster the will to move out into the night to hunt. So instead she sat on her window seat scouring the streets below. "Oh Buffy," Willow said sympathetically. "Have you heard from him since last night?" "No." It was so simple. So direct. Willow shiverered a bit at the ice in her friends' tone. Perhaps because it bothered her that Buffy could feel so much hurt for someone she loved so much or perhaps because she realized that beneath it all, Buffy still cherished him with frightening intensity. "Maybe he just needs time so he doesn't go.. well you know..grrr...on you again." Buffy laughed at Willow's image of Angel turning into a vampire. "Maybe. Sometimes I miss him so much and then there are times..when..I don't know.." "You just want to kick his cute vampire butt? " Willow said giggling and was relieved to hear more laughter from her friend. It was astonishly rare as of late. "Yeah, except sometimes I really want to hurt him." Buffy sighed wondering why she could tell Willow but not her lover of her feelings towards him. As if reading her thoughts, Willow said softly, "Talk to him Buffy. He might feel the same way." "You're probably right, Will. Thanks. I'm gonna get some sleep now. It's been a long day. "Buffy said tiredly. "Night." Willow replied. "Sleep well." As Buffy put the phone on it's cradle and turned off her light she missed the dark shadow in the corner of her room. It moved as if to leave and then settled into a corner, not willing to leave quite yet. "So many times I've tried to tell you You just turn away" "You should be at home sleeping." Angel said softly, approaching from behind, his boots making very little noise against the ground as he walked. She turned towards him, the bruises of the previous nights' fight with Issac's boys still apparent on her face. She gave him a wary smile. "My mom was getting a little over-protective. I think she thinks I'm about ready to kill over." He knew that she was trying to make light of it but he wasn't even slightly amused. "You got hit pretty hard." "I won," she said simply, a trace of annoyance slipping into her voice. "Thanks to me," he challenged. He took a step forward but remained an arms'length away. "You're crazy. I had it under control until you decided to pull youir Mr. Protector Guy routine. You know all the vampires must be laughing their asses off at me. Slayer who needs help from her boyfriend. Great. Does wonders for the rep. Thanks." "Your rep is what you're worried about?" Angel shot back. "I would think you might care more about your hide. Afterall, you left yourself wide open several times. You were lucky I was there or else your mom wouldn't be worried about you, she'd be identifying you." "You're an asshole." She said, jumping to her feet. She reached down and grabbed a rootbeer bottle off of the ground. "I don't need this. If you have problems with my ability to do my job, take it up with Giles. I'm sure you guys can all gang up on me and decide that I'm just basically a fuck-up." "Buffy.." "No, that's what this is all about, isn't it? You don't think you can trust me in battle anymore. You think I'm the weak link. Afterall, I let Ms. Calendar die and I let Jude and Ms. Carpenter die.." "Who?" She swallowed hard, her words washing over her. "Just more people that have died becuse of me." She looked away from him. "So maybe you're right but you know what, deal with it. I'm doing the best I can." "It has nothing to do with that. You're a damn good fighter. There's no doubt about that," Angel replied evenly, his mind working to explain why she had suddenly clammed up over the two names she'd said. "Then what is it? Oh wait, have you decided that I still suck in bed?" He hissed. Nevermind that the comment had come out of nowhere and without preamble. It was a figurative stake straight to the heart. The one set of words that Angelus had uttered to the Slayer that Angel would do anything to make go away. "Don't be like this." She smiled at him sweetly and stepped up and into his face, "Sorry 'bout that lover." She backed away from him, her eyes hard blue blocks of ice. "Live and learn huh?" He clenched his hands hard, once again overhwhelmed by the urge to throttle her. Closing his eyes, he fought for control. When he opened them again, she was gone. "How did I know?" Angel was still seething the next day. Damn her. He had tried to work out his anger. He looked down at the broken punching bag that was now filled with holes. Cripes, this was going to cost money. "Kill another one, kid?" One of the older guys that trained the young boxers asked as he rounded the corner towards the shower. "Yeah," Angel said with a sheepish smile. He reached into the locker and grabbed for a towel. A quick shower and then out into the night to try to work everything out with his bull-headed lover. Try being the operative word. He had just stepped out into the warm night when he felt a presense behind him. Instinctively he knew that it was a friendly one. He felt a moment of hope at the thought that it might be Buffy coming to apoligize. He glanced behind him and instantly felt that hope dissipate. "Will," he said softly, trying not to let her see the disappointment. "Angel we need to talk." Willow said as she approached. She was angry. He had seen her like this before and didn't like it. She was a tigeress when she got pissed. He sighed. "What's up, Will?" He knew she was here about Buffy. "You guys have got to stop this." Willow said pacing in front of him. "You need to stop being so mean and well Buffy needs..well I'm not here to say what she needs. You need to be good." Angel felt like a child who had disappointed his mother. He hung his dark head."I'm sorry." Willow stopped pacing and went to him. "I know it's hard but dammit Angel, she needs your love and support.. not your anger." He nodded again, unable to defend his actions. Willow smiled at him. "Well good because I mean..you guys belong together. And if you're both gonna be too stupid to realize that..well then..I'll just have to take matters into my own hands. Bye ya." She flashed him a wide grin and then disappeared back towards the Bronze a couple blocks away. He stared after her for a moment, and then against his will he felt anger rise. Damn her for sending Willow. Willow was like a sister and he could never say no to her. Ugh. He frowned. Well he'd already destroyed the bag at the gym and there was still so much tension to release. A smile flirted across his face as he thought about hunting down a bad guy and kicking some ass. "My life is changing so fast now Leaves me lonely and afraid" "Hey Will," Buffy said softly, looking up as her friend took a seat next to her. Willow put a mug of coffee down next to the Slayer and a cup of juice in front of herself. "So, how are you feeling?" "I'm alright," Buffy replied, taking two packets of sugar from the holder and shaking them. Willow's eyebrow rose as her friend continued to shake them. "Um, Buffy, that's not Angel." The Slayer blinked. "What?" Then she chuckled nervously. "Wow, you sure don't mesh words do you?" "I used to but someone taught me that life is too short anyways. Here and now, that's all we got." Willow said, taking the sugar packets from Buffy and putting the contents into the coffee. "Sometimes the here and now blows." Buffy replied, eyes lost in the darkness of the liquid. The colour reminded her of Angels' eyes. So full of mystery. "Or is too painful. But you've got to face it. And him. Here take these." Willow handed Buffy two more packets of sugar. Buffy lifted an eyebrow. "Why? Are you trying to get me wired?" "Nope. Put them on the table." "Okay." Buffy did as she was told. "Now talk to them as if they're Angel." "There are two of them?" "Okay, give me one back." Buffy handed one back. Willow opened it and poured into Buffy's mug. "You just put Angel in my coffee." "That wasn't Angel. Angel is in the one in front of you." Willow replied easily, as if it all made perfect sense. The Slayer rose an eyebrow and then stared down at the one left on the table. "This is silly. I can't talk to sugar." "Yes, you can." She sighed and frowned. "Okay. Okay." She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment and then said softly. "Angel, I love you so much but I don't know what's happening with us or if it's even worth it." She looked up at Willow who nodded and urged her on. "We've been through so much and I'm so...I don't know..but it's like sometimes all I want to do is kiss you and be in your arms and everything is okay." "And other times?" Willow asked softly, glad that she had decided that Xander shouldn't come to impersonate the voice of Angel. "Other times I want to shake you," Buffy said simply, picking up the packet of sugar. " And I want to hurt you. As much as I can so that maybe you know what I'm feeling." "Buffy.." "Sometimes I'd like to just punch and kick you until you bleed.." "Buffy..um..stop..." "And I want to hear you beg me to stop. And then I want to keep going." "Buffy, Angel is dead." She blinked. "Huh? What?" She looked up at Willow and then followed her gaze downwards. Lying beneath her fingers was small tangle of white paper and white grains. Sugar. Oh boy. Buffy smiled at up her friend uneasly, "Oops." TO BE CONTINUED... ------------------------------ End of buffyfic-digest V2 #310 ****************************** 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)