From: Titanic437@aol.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (1a/?) Date: 01 Jan 1999 12:58:29 EST TITLE: Can't Hide the Past * AUTHOR: Shadows * DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on yo= ur own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at Titanic437@aol.com * DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last epi= sode that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then= my mind will have it's own play. Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to= all of them. Chapter 1: Basically getting aqquainted to where the characters are now, really. And each of them is mysteriously attacked by something they had thought they had all left behind in the past. * DISCLAIMER: Ok, I have some major stuff to say that is not mine and what *= is* mine. Buffy Summers: Not mine. "Belongs to Joss Whedon, the WB, and ya know the rest. i really hate repitition. It dulls the keys on the keyboard." Jonah Daly: Mine. Buffy's husband. I kinda took the name off of Carson Da= ly from MTV because I was totally lacking in creative inspiration there, for = a moment. Um, Jonah is bascially like the MTV dude. I'm gonna make him out t= o be like that. Elisabeth Sarah "Es" Summers-Daly: I own her. She's Buffy & Jonah's kid. Faith Moss: I don't own Faith. "" I made up the last name because so far,= she is lacking in one. Xander Harris: I don't own him. "" Cordelia Chase: I don't own her. "" Jonathan Peters: I own him. Buffy's Nicholas Peters: I own him. The child of Jonathan and Cordelia. Julia "Julie" and Joshua "Josh" Harris: I own them. They are the product = of Xander and his marriage to his first wife, Emily Longston. Her disclaimer'= ll come later when I use her. Andrea "Annie" Harris: I own her. The child of Xander and Cordelia. Willow Rosenberg: I don't own her. "" I've also based her completely on Alanis Morissette, because whenever I think of who I want Willow to be lik= e when she grows up, BOOM, I get the picture of Alanis Morissette. So be it. Jeremy "Oz" Osbourne: I don't own him. "" I made up the first name 'cause= I doubt his parents were cool enough to actually name his "Oz", unless they = were one of 'em hippy people or something when they had him. Then he probably would've been name something like Clover or another hippy name. ::insert shudder here:: Adriana "Echo" Ruben-Brown: I own her. She's Willow's friend from college= , and they are both members of a coven that they helped start. She is also t= he wife of: Devon Brown: I don't own him. "" He was an original mmeber of "Dingoes At= e My Baby." I made up his last name because I figure that he needs one. He is married to Echo, and is part of the band: "Hellmouth": I own the name. Oh, c'mon, what would be a cooler and more likely name for Oz's band, after "Dingoes Ate My Baby" got tired? My frien= d liked the name, anyway. All of their songs are someone elses, and likewise= , their disclaimer'll follow. Green Leaf Cafe: I hope I own it. It's a little cafe in Greenwich where B= uffy once worked a while back, before she was "discovered" by her husband. Jack Hansen: I own him. Xander's co-worker down where he works. The song that Willow is singing is the first part of Alanis Morissette's = "All I Really Want." I'm not a songwriter, folks. Forgive me for lack of originality. White Rose Coven: I own it. Oh, I hope I'm making the name up. If their i= s an actual coven out there by that name, I did not use that name purposely. So= rry. MoonRaven: I own her. I took he name from the lady witch who runs "A Mystickal Grove", a popular Wiccan site on the Internet. * * * Can't Hide the Past Chapter 1 Part A (Cause stupid AOL won't let me past the whole darn thing in one e- mail!!!) =09It was a dark and stormy night. =09Outside, the rain pounded against the window in sheets, causing the pan= es to shake and rattle whenever the strong wind came a-wuthering around the hous= e. Three o'clock in the morning, and the rain so clouded the street lamplight= and the radiance of the stars that it was pitch-black outside for yards and ya= rds, lightning providing the only luminance. Thunder was it's companion, boomin= g all around the house, showing off that nature did have a damn good stereo system. Outside, trees and garbage cans were knocked over without much cau= tion from the wind, and anybody stuck out in this storm was not to fare well. =09She was not outside. She was inside, staring outside the fogged-up wall window in the living room, watching the torrents of rain that pounded agai= nst her house with unseeing eyes. She was dressed in a ratty old shirt that sa= id "I work for the Green Leaf Caf=E9" in big, bold green letters, and as she = sat on the armrest of a rather expensive-looking leather couch, a pair of decorat= ive purple panties were visible, along with luxuriously long legs. In her thin= , lithe, trembling little hands was a warm mug of cocoa, quite a comfort to = her throughout the night. =09Upstairs, in the master bedroom, her husband Jonah was fast asleep, pro= bably shivering from the cold because he always kicked the bedsheets to the bott= om of the bed, and he refused to wear anything else besides an amusing pair o= f flannel boxers. Down the hall, past the bathroom, the guest bedroom, and t= he utility closet, her daughter Elisabeth Sarah slept like the little angel t= hat she was in the nursery. They still called it the nursery, she thought with= a trace of humor, although "Es" had just turned six years old a month ago. I= t was still decorated like a child's room, also, and Jonah groaned the other= day about Es reaching the age where *she* would want to decorate her own room.= His wife shared his same fear. =09And, downstairs was her, she who could never get a decent night's sleep= . Yet, "you never get baggy eyes!", as one of her co-stars had once told her. She= had just smiled at them and gave them her little secret-cucumbers, a hot bath, relaxing incense, and most importantly, "tons and tons of foundation!" Foundation, of course, was every actress's necessary tool in her line of w= ork. =09Still, while that made it looked like she got plenty of sleep, her body= still dragged miles behind. Or at least, it used to. Her body had been condition= ed over the years to function without a lot of sleep. It came with both field= s of work . . . both of them indeed, she thought with a sigh. =09There was a flash of lightning, and much to soon for comfort, a rumble = of thunder pierced through the night. She jumped, and then made sure that non= e of the cocoa spilled out of the mud and into the ankle-deep, beige carpeting = of the sunken living room. Tired of nature and tired of the world in general,= she cradled the cup of cocoa to her chest and quickly and carefully made her w= ay back to the kitchen. =09When she entered the large, modern-age kitchen, the first thing she did= was flip on the light switch. She blinked as her eyes became conditioned to th= e sudden change in lighting. Then, with a toss of her waist-length, wavy, di= rty- blond hair, she made her way to the refrigerator. =09Binge-fest, in the middle of the night, and still she kept a good figur= e. Exercise, plently of exercise, both officially with her personal trainer a= nd unofficially chasing after her six-year-old, her brother-in-law, and the family dog. Not even counting her rigerous shooting schedule. It seemed th= at she never had an ounce of free time . . . never time to be herself. She wa= s always either mother, wife, or actress. =09She was never Buffy. =09But now, during the late hours of the night and the wee hours of the mo= rning, she could be herself. So, settling down at the kitchen table with her cup = of cocoa, a slice of apple pie, and the latest issue of In Style, Buffy was content with being Buffy. =09On page 52 there was, not surprisingly, yet another article about her. = It began with the usual line: "At only 32, Buffy Summers-Daly has become Hollywood's favorite darling" or some rot like that. Whenever one of those horrible reporter-persons came around, Buffy just usually rolled her eyes = and made the few quotes and told some funny stories, just wanting to get the d= amn interview thing over with. In fact, she could only remember one article sh= e had actually enjoyed doing. It was for one of those parenting magazines, a= nd both she and Es were featured. That had been entertaining for the both of them, especially Es, who got to show off her collection of Beanie Babies t= o all of America. =09Her eyes were widening in shock as she read a certain paragraph that wa= s not particularly flattering to a certain part of her body when she first heard= the rapping. It was very soft: if not for her Slayer-strengthened hearing, she would never noticed it until five minutes later or so, when it became gradually louder until it was a thumping noise. =09More upset than spooked, Buffy got to her feet and marched out of the kitchen, up the winding marble steps that she had so loved when Jonah and = she had first bought the mansion, and the into the hallway. There was a slight prickling at the back of her neck, a sensation that was associated with something that she *definitely* did not want it to be associated with. =09Tenser now, Buffy stopped in front of the bookcase and pulled several b= ooks off the third shelf, where it was easiest to reach. Behind them, hidden in= the dust and darkness, were the standard issue supplies of a Slayer, or at lea= st the barest minimums. Grabbing a stake and a tiny bottle of holy water, she pushed the books back into place and continued down the hall. She also ask= ed God to keep Jonah in the bedroom, least he pop out to check out the racket during a critical moment. Thank God that he was such a deep sleeper; if he could sleep through that earthquake three or so years ago, he could damn w= ell fall asleep through whatever she was gonna do. =09Buffy was certain that the rapping was coming from somewhere on the sec= ond floor, yet she couldn't place it. She stopped, toes digging into the hall = rug, closing her eyes and concentrating heard, trying to place the location of = the intruder. Vampire alright. She could sense the animalistic hunger, the lus= t, the need . . . she tried not to get caught up in the moment as she tried t= o pinpoint where the feelings were coming from. =09Suddenly her eyes flashed open. The feeling were coming from the last r= oom down the hall . . . her daughters room! As the Slayer, Buffy felt no fear,= no sense of panic or terror. But the mother inside her was feeling all those horribly twisted feelings and more, and the two halves of her conflicted sharply as Buffy hurried down the hall, bursting into her daughter's room. =09The room was such a sweet room. It was decorated in a soft lavender, Bu= ffy's favorite color and not coincidentally, it had grown to be Es's also. There were stuffed animals, rocking chairs, toys, and a tiny television seat str= ewn around the room and all around the center of the room, where the tall, lar= ge canopy bed lay in a place where a tiny crib had once been located. Buffy remembered shopping for the bed: Jonah and she had looked at their daughte= r as though she were insane, but Es had kept politely asking for the bed that s= he wanted. "She's having that bed 'till she moves out of the house," Jonah ha= d said with all conviction as they had set it up together, marveling how the tiny the nursery had grown afterwards. =09Now, the curtains were pulled away from each other and tied to the bedp= ost, and she could see the tiny form of her daughter cuddled under the silk lavender covers, head buried in a pillow, and long brown hair spread all o= ver like a halo. In her arms she clutched a raggedy stuffed pig: Mr. Gordo, wh= ich had once been Buffy's. And, as Buffy could tell and acknowledge with a gre= at amount of relief, she was still breathing deeply; in fact, she was breathi= ng and making soft snoring noises. The mother in Buffy reminded herself that = she needed to take Es to the doctor and find out what the little girl was alle= rgic to. =09Then the thumping sound came again. Elisabeth Sarah snorted and rolled = over in her sleep, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer looked past the canopy bed and = at the large window that had a wonderful view of acres of forest that were pa= rt of the Daly land. =09The only problem was that the breathtaking view was blocked by the larg= e, burly form of a vampire, who was desperately trying to punch in the thick glass door. Buffy chuckled to herself. =09"Nine inches of glass, idiot. How are you going to get in?" she asked t= he moronic vampire, who of course had not noticed her yet. Feeling a little humorous and still with a slight high from the earlier shock of nerves, Bu= ffy carefully creeped up to window, staying tucked away in the shadows. =09When she was right underneath the window, Buffy reached up to grasp the window ledge with the hand that held the stake. The vampire still did not notice her. Good. =09Inside her head, Buffy gave a yelp. She quickly rose up, filling the wi= ndow with her form. The surprised look on the vampire's face was to die for, ba= d a pun as that was. The vampire, shocked, let go of the hold that he had on t= he window, and for a moment he just crouched there on the ledge, hands spinni= ng and trying to keep his balance. Then, it's mouth twisted into an "O", the vampire lost balance and fell down two stories, landing on the grass with = a *thump* that rang true in Buffy's mind. =09She allowed herself a little laugh. What is just her, or were vampires getting stupider and stupider as the years progressed? She turned around, holding the stake and the vial of holy water loosely in her hand, shaking = her head with disgust. Really, it just was worth it most of the time . . . =09"Mommy? What's going on?" =09It was Buffy's turn to be startled now, so startled that she jumped jus= t the tiniest bit before she realized that silky, young-sounding voice was comin= g from her daughter, who was now sitting up in bed with a sleepy demeanor ab= out her. Buffy looked down at her hands, saw the weapons, and then quickly tuc= ked them behind her, dropping them behind a large stuffed rabbit, hoping that = she could get them in the morning before Es found them. =09"Nothing going on, sweetheart," Buffy soothed, walking over to her baby= girl. She sat down next to her, pulling Es into her lap and holding her to her chest, smoothing her long, tangled brown hair that was the same length as = her mother's. "Mommy was just looking out the window, that's all." She gave he= r a comforting kiss on the forehead and pulled back to look her daughter in th= e eye. "Now go back to sleep." =09"But I'm not tired," Es protested sleepily, opening her mouth in a litt= le yawn. Then both mother and daughter giggled. "I guess I am," Es admitted, laying back down into her pillow. Buffy just smiled and tucked the covers tight around Es' body, then smoothing back her hair from her forehead. =09"Sweet dreams," Buffy whispered, slowly getting up. "I love you." =09"Love you too," Es breathed, already half asleep. In a few seconds, she= was back to her steady breathing/wheezing. Buffy sighed tiredly and then walke= d out of the nursery, closing the door softly behind her. She stood in the h= all for a moment, searching for the vampire's presence. He was still out there= , somewhere in front of the house. Should she just go to sleep and pray that= the vampire didn't harm somebody else? Or should she grab another stake from t= he false-bottom drawer in the master bedroom, the one that Jonah had no knowl= edge of? =09As good as dropping into bed besides her husband sounded right about no= w, Buffy could not ignore her duty. Sure, she could run away from being the Slayer, but it follow her until the day she died. At least things weren't = too bad, and she should be grateful for that. Besides, if she didn't do someth= ing about that vampire . . . someone might get killed. Although many deaths we= re on her pretty little head already, Buffy didn't care to have one more adde= d to the list. Dejectedly, Buffy reached for the hidden stash in her bookcase, pulling out just a stake this time. Swift and quick was the plan du jour. =09Just as she was placing the books back in place was when something stra= nge happened. Well, it was not strange as in the sense of it happening-it was perfectly natural, mind you-but why would it choose to happen at that prec= ise moment? Buffy's body went rigid as she felt the vampire suddenly *not be there*. He was totally gone-from this world at least. He had been slayed. = But by whom? =09Buffy felt a slight bit of terror grip her heart again, but curiosity w= as the ruling emotion here. Hurrying down the stairs, Buffy ran to the door, inte= nt on finding out what had happened to vampire, not at all afraid to fling th= e door open, because she had never invited a single vampire into this house. =09She was still stunned, though, at the figure that stood in her doorway,= with the shiny black slicker, and completely drenched it rain, leather, and metallic jewelry. The shock must have been evident on her face, because he= r surprise visitor noticed and laughed. =09"That's not happy to see me," Faith Moss, the Vampire Slayer said as a = bolt of lightning hit somewhere in the next street, raising the hair on the two women's necks and also illuminating her face eerily. "Afraid of the competition, eh?" =09Buffy's mouth suddenly did not work. Why, in fifteen years, did Faith suddenly appear on her doorstep. "What . . . ?" she asked, her mouth hangi= ng ajar at the not-so-quite end of the sentence. =09Faith smiled, her thin, very red lips parting just for a moment, then settling back into a thin line. "My last Watcher gave me an important bit = of information. One of those pesky prophecies." She shook her arms, sending droplets of rain flying off from her coat. "You gonna let me in, or an I g= onna catch pneumonia or what?" =09"Oh," Buffy said, somewhat sheepishly. Then she held the door open, and= Faith marched past her as though she owned the place. "Make yourself at home," B= uffy whispered softly as Faith hung her coat on the coat rack and then walked i= nto the living room, plopping onto the coat and lifted her feet off the floor. =09Before closing the door, Buffy took one last look out the window, in ca= se anymore surprise visitors popped up. Then, assured that there was to be no more, Buffy closed behind the door behind her. Surely, this was going to b= e one interesting night. //*\\ End of Part A //*\\ Feedback is *so* wanted. Tell me what you like! Tell me what you hate! (: ~Shadows~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Titanic437@aol.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (1b/?) Date: 01 Jan 1999 13:00:44 EST TITLE: Can't Hide the Past * AUTHOR: Shadows * DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on your own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at Titanic437@aol.com * DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last episode that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then my mind will have it's own play. Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to all of them. Chapter 1: Basically getting aqquainted to where the characters are now, really. And each of them is mysteriously attacked by something they had thought they had all left behind in the past. * DISCLAIMER: Ok, I have some major stuff to say that is not mine and what *is* mine. Buffy Summers: Not mine. "Belongs to Joss Whedon, the WB, and ya know the rest. i really hate repitition. It dulls the keys on the keyboard." Jonah Daly: Mine. Buffy's husband. I kinda took the name off of Carson Daly from MTV because I was totally lacking in creative inspiration there, for a moment. Um, Jonah is bascially like the MTV dude. I'm gonna make him out to be like that. Elisabeth Sarah "Es" Summers-Daly: I own her. She's Buffy & Jonah's kid. Faith Moss: I don't own Faith. "" I made up the last name because so far, she is lacking in one. Xander Harris: I don't own him. "" Cordelia Chase: I don't own her. "" Jonathan Peters: I own him. Buffy's Nicholas Peters: I own him. The child of Jonathan and Cordelia. Julia "Julie" and Joshua "Josh" Harris: I own them. They are the product of Xander and his marriage to his first wife, Emily Longston. Her disclaimer'll come later when I use her. Andrea "Annie" Harris: I own her. The child of Xander and Cordelia. Willow Rosenberg: I don't own her. "" I've also based her completely on Alanis Morissette, because whenever I think of who I want Willow to be like when she grows up, BOOM, I get the picture of Alanis Morissette. So be it. Jeremy "Oz" Osbourne: I don't own him. "" I made up the first name 'cause I doubt his parents were cool enough to actually name his "Oz", unless they were one of 'em hippy people or something when they had him. Then he probably would've been name something like Clover or another hippy name. ::insert shudder here:: Adriana "Echo" Ruben-Brown: I own her. She's Willow's friend from college, and they are both members of a coven that they helped start. She is also the wife of: Devon Brown: I don't own him. "" He was an original mmeber of "Dingoes Ate My Baby." I made up his last name because I figure that he needs one. He is married to Echo, and is part of the band: "Hellmouth": I own the name. Oh, c'mon, what would be a cooler and more likely name for Oz's band, after "Dingoes Ate My Baby" got tired? My friend liked the name, anyway. All of their songs are someone elses, and likewise, their disclaimer'll follow. Green Leaf Cafe: I hope I own it. It's a little cafe in Greenwich where Buffy once worked a while back, before she was "discovered" by her husband. Jack Hansen: I own him. Xander's co-worker down where he works. The song that Willow is singing is the first part of Alanis Morissette's "All I Really Want." I'm not a songwriter, folks. Forgive me for lack of originality. White Rose Coven: I own it. Oh, I hope I'm making the name up. If their is an actual coven out there by that name, I did not use that name purposely. Sorry. MoonRaven: I own her. I took he name from the lady witch who runs "A Mystickal Grove", a popular Wiccan site on the Internet. * AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is something vaguely sexual here, so I give this chapter a PG-13. OK? Nothing graphic at all. Just . . . hinting, I suppose. * * * Can't Hide the Past Chapter 1 Part B (Cause stupid AOL won't let me past the whole darn thing in one e- mail!!!) This time they were being very careful, very safe. The door was closed. Last time, which had definitely been only a short while ago, Julie and Josh had walked in on them. Definitely not mature for their age of five, the twins had set upon telling the entire tale in vivid detail to the dinner guests later that night, much to their parents disgust and complete horror. After a long talk on the birds and the bees, Julie and Josh had agreed to keep quiet about the incident, although they had both agreed that this little thing was a wonderful blackmail. Yet, the opportunity to use it had not yet arisen. They would be quiet . . . they would wait. Meanwhile, their parents were being a little more cautious as to their surroundings when they "did it." Since the bedroom was always a major factor, with the bed being there and everything, and the walls were thick, there remained the fact that for the rest of the times that they had sex, the freakin' door would be closed. Of course, it did not matter how thick the walls were and if the door was closed and whether they were ten feet for ten million miles away from the twins' bedroom. Nothing in the known universe could muffle Cordelia's screams of ecstasy. She, of course, was done with the screaming part now. They were nearing the end part, and Cordelia was quite comfortable with being silent and letting her husband do his thing under the covers. "Hmm, yes, that's the right spot," she murmured contently as her talented spouse touched her in just the right place. A sob of enjoyment was caught in her throat as she kept herself in check. "Oh . . . yeah." She was just sneaking under the covers to pleasure her husband a bit when the phone on the nightstand let out it's annoying, piercing ring. Rolling her eyes, Cordelia climbed out of her "position" and reached for the phone. "Hello, you've reached the Harris residence," Cordelia said cordially into the phone, realizing how much she sounded like a secretary. "This is Cordelia. May I please ask the name of whoever is suicidal enough to be calling me at-" she reached out one long, bare arm to turn the digital clock to face her-"six o'clock in the freakin' morning?" She ended the sentence in a honeyed tone, trying to sound as sardonically polite as she could be. "Um, hello Cordelia," said a pleasant male voice, sounding as tired as Cordelia sounded pissed. "This is Jack. Can I please speak to Xander, if he's there?" "Oh, he's here alright," Cordelia said icily into the phone. Next to her, Xander popped his head out of the covers, his hair mussed and his face flushed. "Unfortunately, Roger, he's busy right now." Xander tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. He made a big "no" sign and then held out his hand for the phone. "Never mind, here he is," Cordelia grumbled into the phone, begrudgingly handing the phone over to her husband. "Obviously, you've got your priorities crossed," she mumbled crossly, ducking under the covers. Xander just sighed and turned his attention to the phone. "So Jack, what about that ca-" Xander stopped mid-word, sucking his breath in sharply. He closed his eyes, his lips curving upwards into a smile, which quickly grew to a frown. He cupped on large hand over the receiver, and then whispered harshly, "Cordelia, not *now*!" All he got in response was a muffled giggled, and more of what she had begun to do. "Roger, ah . . . I'm gonna have to call you back," he managed to get out, and then slammed the phone back into his handle. "Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my co-worker?" Xander said teasingly, sliding back under the covers to that he could further enjoy this special attention. Mid attention-giving, there was a sudden crash from outside. Two tousled heads popped out, both very upset and one slightly paranoid. "I think that came from the shed," Cordelia said in a tiny voice, looking around the bedroom. Her eyes landed on the door, then they flicked to Xander, and then back to the door. "Ahem," she said, clearing her throat loudly. Xander groaned, and then sat up. "Where are my boxers?" he said, looking frantically around for his under-shorts. Spotting them a good toss away from the bed, he climbed out of bed naked, only then realizing how damn cold it was in the small bedroom. "I wish you didn't have such a good arm," he chuckled, remembering just how far she had tossed in his clothes 30 or so minutes ago. "Oh, you *like* my good arm," Cordelia said teasingly, sitting up in bed also. She wrapped the covers around her upper and lower body, even though she was very comfortable displaying her body in front of Xander. "You so know you do." "Of course I do," Xander said, pulling up his boxers. He picked up his undershirt from the back on the desk chair and pulled his on over his head. With a smile, he reached behind the computer monitor that rested on his desk and took a long while in pulling out a black, lacey bra. "Is this yours, Mrs. Harris?" he asked, dangling it in the air and wiggling his eyebrows at his wife. Cordelia laughed, a lilting sound that sounded like music to Xander's ears. The words {I can't believe she's my wife} flashed through his mind a million times, even though she had been his wife for a good four years now. Every time he looked at her body, every time that she spoke aloud, and every time that he looked into her eyes, those exact words ran through his mind. He just couldn't believe his amazing luck. {You're blessed, Harris} he told himself, believing every word he thought. "Yes, it's mine," she said sultrily, letting her eyelids half-close over her eyes as she continued staring steadily at him. When she did that it always turned him on, and they both knew it. "But you can keep it for a souvenir, if you like." "Hmm, I'd like that a lot," Xander said, and he stuffed the bra into the back pocket of his boxers, making sure that a bit peeked through. "Now, while I be the man and check on whatever raccoon happened to take shelter in our shed, don't go anywhere, ok? I learned something new that I'd like to show you." His voice clearly hinted at something. "Yeah, and I'd be even more interested in who you learned it from!" Cordelia called after her husband as he closed the bedroom door behind him. She could hear his laughter, the soft laughter that always sent shivers up her spine. {You don't deserve him at all} Cordelia thought to herself, laying back down in the bed and patting her pillow. {Or, you do deserve him, and you've finally got him}. That thought made her grin. Only four years ago she was in the hospital, deep in a coma she had been brought into from the severe beating her first husband, Jonathan Peters, had given her earlier that evening. She could still remember his angry voice, the sound of his baseball bat crunching her bones, and their child, Nicholas, who was only three or four years old at the time, screaming for Daddy not to hurt Mommy-yes, she still remembered that horrible night. And then, the next day, she was lying in a hospital bed, totally unconscious. She had lied there for two straight weeks, completely alone and unable to tell her story-she wouldn't, anyway, because she was the classic beaten wife case, totally unable to admit that anything was wrong with her marriage. Jonathan was off doing computer programming in Asia and totally refused to come back to L.A., which was becoming mighty suspicious for the social service workers that hung out on the fourth floor. Poor Nicholas, who they might have extracted information from, was completely in shock. He refused to speak, and he didn't regain his speech until an entire year later. Even now he was still a shy and quiet boy, with a dark and brooding expression, and brown eyes that were much too old for a seven-year-old. When she finally came out of the coma, two weeks after she was admitted to the hospital, she had extreme amnesia, only able to remember two words: "Alexander Harris." These two words brought such mixed feelings, such as anger, hate, betrayal, but strongest of all, an intense feeling of love, of actually feeling that he completed her. Not a face, not a recollection as to where these feelings came from were available to Cordelia. Then a lucky break came. The nurse who take care of her, a kind women somewhere in her late forties, named Celeste, recognized the name. It seems that a man by the same name had checked in to the hospital, asking for a nurse to take care of his twin newborns while he spent his time here in L.A. Celeste's friend, Maggie, had been chosen for the job, and she could get this Alexander Harris to show up. If he recognized her, they could continue getting her memory back, because although there were picture and evidence of her present, any and all before her marriage to Jonathan was a complete blank to her and everyone else. The next day, Alexander Harris showed up. Cordelia still remembered the first time she saw him, standing in the doorway, such a sad, depressed face on. Then, when he saw her: bandages, crutches by her bed side, bruised all over the place, his face had dropped into one of complete shock and sympathy. He had sat by her hospital bed, demanding to know who had done this to her so that he could give whoever it was a damn good thrashing. Cordelia didn't answer him, but instead wondered why this man, this strange man with the gorgeous face, great build, and light British accent felt the need to protect her so. Least to say, the following week was a week of immense learning, and Cordelia gained her memory quite quickly, though it was mostly from actually banging her head on the side of her hospital bed than the fine-toothed experiments most of the doctors and Xander had made her through. The first thing she did was freak out because the things that Xander had been telling her about her past was indeed true. The second thing she did was report the still-away-on-business Jonathan to the authorities and demand a divorce and also a restraining order. The third thing she did was ask Xander if he would consider a relationship, taking in consideration what had only recently happened in England. Xander had agreed nonetheless, and in less than six months or so they wed, and nine months later their daughter, *their* daughter Annie was born. They were a family, now and forever. And, as Cordelia waited for Xander to return, she thought he was a mighty fine act in bed, too. *** The air was chilly, mainly because it was December and it was Virginia, and Xander knew that he just asking for a cold, going outdoors in his kind of clothing. But all he had to do was take a quick look in the shed, run the stupid raccoon out, and then go back up to the bedroom again. Simple, really, and if he did it fast enough, he wouldn't have to down a bottle of Triaminic afterwards. Honestly, Cordelia had the strangest way of avoiding colds. But at least the Triaminic tasted rather well, for medicine. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and Xander was overtaken by the sudden fear that he would have to go to work soon. Then he calmed down, reminding himself that it was Saturday and they were letting him take the weekend off. Thank God, too. Xander planned on taking the kids camping, even Cordelia and Annie, though they would have to deal with taking care of a three-year-old. Luckily, Annie was turning out to be much of a tomboy, like Julie had turned out to be. There would be no misgivings while Xander, Nicholas, Josh, and Julie went out trekking in the woods, although Cordelia would most likely stay inside the tent, mothering Annie to death. She meant well, anyway . . . Xander reached out to pull the shed doors open, and he grunted in surprise when they didn't open. He put his feet in the ground and then pulled hard on the doors, and still they did not swing open. Dammit, he was a big man, and he tons of muscles from working out, and he was very, very strong. So why weren't the doors opening? They opened fine yesterday; they couldn't possibly rust shut overnight. For a second, Xander wondered if something other than raccoons were his shed, but he was no longer someone who was content to just wonder. He went to the back of the shed where a few shovels were lying around, and praying Cordelia didn't come out screaming "Xander! What are you doing to the shed?!", he went back to the front and began to pound on the front doors. When he heard the satisfying *clang* of the lock being broken inside, he shoved the doors open, and the rosy pink light of the sunrise flooded the shed. Something moved along a pile of some unnamable metal parts, and Xander was quick enough to see that it was indeed a raccoon. "Oh, get the hell out of here," Xander grumbled, throwing the shovel at the metal parts, careful not to hit the animal. He did succeed in scaring it, though, and the mammal quickly scampered past Xander, running out of the shed like it was crazed. The strange behavior puzzled Xander; that and the fact that something seemed so *wrong*. It was just in the air. Cautiously, Xander entered the shed, walking all the way to the back, where the sunrise's light did not shine. He looked around, but he saw nothing. Suddenly, something skittered up the back wall, and Xander stepped back and looked up high, sighing when he realized it was just a lizard. "See, nothing," he told himself, crossing his arms over his chest. "Some imagination." He was totally caught off guard when something did indeed grab him from behind and pulled him up against the wall. Startled, Xander gathered himself as his attacker grabbed a good hold of his neck. Squirming out of his attacker's strong grip, he fell to the floor and quickly rolled under some old mats. Whoever jumped on top of the map, but Xander rolled back out just in time. He got to his feet while the attacker was still rolling around, still tangled up. Xander laughed and grabbed the person by the back, intent on punching the lights out of this asshole. How surprised-how very surprised-was he when he looked into the horrible, misshapen face of his attacker. A forehead creased together in a ridge down the center, horrible yellow eyes as though it had hepatitis, and a mouth full of big, sharp, teeth, and a pair of long, elongated . . . fangs. "Oh *shit*." Xander said aloud, and the vampire, seeing that Xander was momentarily stunned, took the chance to try punching him out. He knocked Xander to the floor again, and then proceeded to get on top of him, heading right for his neck, growling with intense hunger. Xander, realizing just what the heck was gonna happen here, grabbed the vampire by the neck and threw him off. All those years of physical therapy and self defense weren't for nothing . . . Xander flipped over unto his back and quickly glanced around the shed, and finding what he wanted, grabbed it off a shelf. The vampire, with his back to him, tried turning around to capture his intended victim, but Xander was armed with the handle of a broken hammer. In a rage, Xander shoved it right through the vampire's heart, staring in disbelief as it disappeared into dust. Then he let the handle clatter to the floor. "Oh *shit*," he repeated, walking backwards out of the shed. He closed the door quickly behind him, and then lay against the doors for support. A vampire, in the daylight, in *his* shed, intent on making him his breakfast-or dinner. Why, after 15 years of being left alone, did they choose to bother him now . . . Well, if they were in his shed they were probably damn well everywhere. Xander looked around him in a controlled panic, and then ran towards the house, not caring what the neighbors or the children thought. "Cordelia!" he yelled loudly as soon as he entered the house and the front door banged behind him. "Get down here quick! We need to talk!" //*\\ End of Part B //*\\ Feedback is so requested. Tell me whatcha like, tell me whatcha hate. ~Shadows~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Titanic437@aol.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (1c/?) Date: 01 Jan 1999 16:56:30 EST TITLE: Can't Hide the Past * AUTHOR: Shadows * DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on your own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at Titanic437@aol.com * DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last episode that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then my mind will have it's own play. Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to all of them. Chapter 1: Basically getting aqquainted to where the characters are now, really. And each of them is mysteriously attacked by something they had thought they had all left behind in the past. * DISCLAIMER: Ok, I have some major stuff to say that is not mine and what *is* mine. Buffy Summers: Not mine. "Belongs to Joss Whedon, the WB, and ya know the rest. i really hate repitition. It dulls the keys on the keyboard." Jonah Daly: Mine. Buffy's husband. I kinda took the name off of Carson Daly from MTV because I was totally lacking in creative inspiration there, for a moment. Um, Jonah is bascially like the MTV dude. I'm gonna make him out to be like that. Elisabeth Sarah "Es" Summers-Daly: I own her. She's Buffy & Jonah's kid. Faith Moss: I don't own Faith. "" I made up the last name because so far, she is lacking in one. Xander Harris: I don't own him. "" Cordelia Chase: I don't own her. "" Jonathan Peters: I own him. Buffy's Nicholas Peters: I own him. The child of Jonathan and Cordelia. Julia "Julie" and Joshua "Josh" Harris: I own them. They are the product of Xander and his marriage to his first wife, Emily Longston. Her disclaimer'll come later when I use her. Andrea "Annie" Harris: I own her. The child of Xander and Cordelia. Willow Rosenberg: I don't own her. "" I've also based her completely on Alanis Morissette, because whenever I think of who I want Willow to be like when she grows up, BOOM, I get the picture of Alanis Morissette. So be it. Jeremy "Oz" Osbourne: I don't own him. "" I made up the first name 'cause I doubt his parents were cool enough to actually name his "Oz", unless they were one of 'em hippy people or something when they had him. Then he probably would've been name something like Clover or another hippy name. ::insert shudder here:: Adriana "Echo" Ruben-Brown: I own her. She's Willow's friend from college, and they are both members of a coven that they helped start. She is also the wife of: Devon Brown: I don't own him. "" He was an original mmeber of "Dingoes Ate My Baby." I made up his last name because I figure that he needs one. He is married to Echo, and is part of the band: "Hellmouth": I own the name. Oh, c'mon, what would be a cooler and more likely name for Oz's band, after "Dingoes Ate My Baby" got tired? My friend liked the name, anyway. All of their songs are someone elses, and likewise, their disclaimer'll follow. Green Leaf Cafe: I hope I own it. It's a little cafe in Greenwich where Buffy once worked a while back, before she was "discovered" by her husband. Jack Hansen: I own him. Xander's co-worker down where he works. The song that Willow is singing is the first part of Alanis Morissette's "All I Really Want." I'm not a songwriter, folks. Forgive me for lack of originality. White Rose Coven: I own it. Oh, I hope I'm making the name up. If their is an actual coven out there by that name, I did not use that name purposely. Sorry. MoonRaven: I own her. I took he name from the lady witch who runs "A Mystickal Grove", a popular Wiccan site on the Internet. * AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is something vaguely sexual here, so I give this chapter a PG-13. OK? Nothing graphic at all. Just . . . hinting, I suppose. * * * Can't Hide the Past Chapter 1 Part C (Cause stupid AOL won't let me past the whole darn thing in one e- mail!!!) "Ok, now listen to this, alright? Here goes . . ." Willow Osbourne sat up on one of the couch cushions that had been thrown on the hardwood floor for comfort. Her legs were cross-legged like Buddha, her hair, which reached down to her ankles when she stood up, was sprawled all over the floor, and in her beautiful manicured hands was a small cup of herbal tea. She wore a pair of loose-fitting, ragged old Levi's that once were her husbands, back when they fit him. He had grown quite a bit since he had bought these pants, so now they were Willow's. Her top was a loose-fitting, copper, velvety thing with a dangerously low neckline. A beautiful choker with a silver half-moon hanging from a ribbon beautifully accented her pale, elegant neck. Her hair, thick and dangerously wavy and colored "Terra Cotta Shocked", hung over in her eyes and she bent forwards, scribbling furiously in a notebook. She rocked back and forth to an imaginary rhythm, never taking her eyes of the paper and writing with more and more ferocity as she neared the bottom of the page. Then, with a little exclamation of triumph, she dotted her last period and then jumped up, the couch cushion swaying dangerously. "Done! I think I got it!" she exclaimed excitedly, shaking with joy. Then she cleared her throat and opened her mouth, and out came these words: "Do I stress you out? My sweater is on backwards and inside out, And you say how appropriate. I don't want to dissect everything today, I don't mean to pick you apart you see, But I can't help it. There I go jumping before the gunshot has gone off. Slap me with a splintered ruler, And it would knock me to the floor if I wasn't there already If only I could hunt the hunter!" Then, done singing her little diddy, she sat back down on the cushion, crossed her legs, and waited for the response. Before her sat her husband, a fellow coven member, and an ex-boyfriend. Also known as Jeremy "Oz" Osbourne, Adriana "Echo" Ruben-Brown, and Devon Brown. Also, to most of America, they were known as the extremely popular and successful alternative music band, "Hellmouth." "I thought that was really good. I like the lyrics, but the music could be worked on," Oz offered after a long pause for careful consideration. He was wearing an old checkered jacket over one of his many bowling shirts, this one a cheerful light blue that said "New York City" in script above the left pocket. He wore a pair of brand new khaki's that Willow had gotten him for his birthday. His hair was its regular brown this month, but if Willow was going to the supermarket like she said she was, it wouldn't stay this shade for long. "Where's the rest of the song?" Echo asked abruptly. She wore a tight black shirt that had a gorgeous silk-screened rose on the front, and on the back the words "White Rose Coven" were scripted, along with the name "Echo." As for the lower part of her, she had on a skirt with a dangerous slit down the side, which had been caused when Echo had caught it on the side of the door and ripped it. Her shaggy black hair framed her pale china face and her delicate feature, and ended somewhere below her shoulder blades. Everyone gave her an exasperated look. "What, I want to know!" When nobody else said anything and just glared at her, she scowled a little and shrunk back into her seat on the couch. "Oh, what do you expect," she grumbled, "I'm just the drummer." Next to her, her husband Devon shifted in his seat and shifted the position of his arm, which rested on Echo's shoulders. He was wearing an old, faded t- shirt that had a picture of a skater dude, and baggy blue jeans. His brown hair was in a style reminiscent of Ben Affleck when he was young. "I really, really liked the lyrics, and I have a suggestion for the music . . . more of an uppity thing, instead of so mellow." "Ok," Willow said cheerfully, wanting as much feedback as she could get. She was absolutely dying to get a new record out, especially after the success of their first two albums, and as the songwriter of the group, she had to make some big contributions. Like writing the songs themselves. "I also have the chorus part down already, but I don't like how it goes right after this certain paragraph. But I'm thinking, if I think of another paragraph, then maybe it'll fit . . ." The whole band dove right into the song, adding their own lyrics although it was Willow's job, adding percussion although that was Echo's job, and the boys remained pretty true to them making the decisions about the guitar. Echo, though, was all for the electronica part of the song. She loved working with the keyboard, and making all sorts of weird music and noises to use in the song. The whole team was really involved in the process when there was the sound of glass breaking from outside. They all lifted their heads up, Oz and Willow exchanging looked. Oz's ears twitched back, extremely unnatural for a human, and then concentrated as though he was listening to something far away. Echo and Devon turned to watch him carefully: he was the best bodyguard, what with the ability to tune into his wolf senses whenever he liked. "There's someone outside and . . ." Oz shivered, and that fact was clearly visible to the other members of the band. "I actually think it's . . . something." "Oh darn, I'll get the supplies," Echo groaned, getting up off her arse and walking over to the little kitchen they had going in this apartment. She reached up for the top cabinet and opened it, starting to pull out all the ancient Christian relics. "Really, Willow, I remember you scaring MoonRaven so bad when she opened this cabinet," Echo chuckled, remembering a certain episode when their coven leader had come to visit the apartment. "I can just see the expression on her face. 'I thought you were *Jewish* and Wiccan, child! Not three whole religions! How do you split your time so?* Hmm. Quite memorable." "Yeah, well, I'm not surprised if she buys the whole 'it's to ward off vampires' thing," Devon said wryly to Willow. "She took it pretty well when you broke the news about you and Oz being werewolves and all." "Well, she did tell me she was a witch," Willow said, shrugging. "I say fair and fair." Oz was slowly walking towards to the door, his ears still contorted forwards. Any person that was not used to seeing them like that would definitely be sick to their stomach. "Gimme a stake," he murmured, finally arriving at the door. "Here." Echo closed the cabinet and tossed out some wooden stakes, teeny nail-polish bottles of holy water, and crosses to the three other people in the apartment. Then Willow, Devon, and Echo came up behind Oz, armed and ready. Ever since Oz and Willow had left Sunnydale behind, the vampires and other supernatural forces (not counting Willow's interest in the Craft) had never bothered them. When they had moved down here to Old World Mexico, however, evil still pretty much had somewhat of a reign over here, stepped in ancient traditions. After telling Echo and Devon (heck, they had taken tons of the truth in, already) the four had gone out, bought the supplies, and generally knew what to do. It also helped that Oz was able to tap into his werewolf aspect at any time, Willow and Echo were trained in all aspects of being Wiccan, and Devon having a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. They were pretty much prepared for anything. "It's by the fountain," Echo noted, sensing the empty pocket in the energy that flowed all around the small apartment complex in Southern Mexico. Willow nodded in affirmation, feeling the emptiness also. No doubt that Oz sensed it, for dogs and cats had always been able to spot the paranormal. Once, Willow and Echo had to perform an exorcism of the house because Oz was being driven nuts by a ghost living in one of the pasts apartments they had rented. "I'll take your word it," Devon said as he looked out the window, pushing the vertical blinds out of the way so that he could see somewhat clearly. "I really can't tell anything in this dark. It looks like no one is there." "Well, no one isn't there," Echo said, matching Devon's earlier tone of wryness. "Some*thing* is there." "Give you that," Devon admitted, shrugging. Oz opened the door and the four of them stepped out, Oz immediately changing his eyes into the werewolf form so that he could see better in the dark. "It's there alright," he admitted, feeling his hair standing up straight on end. "Who wants to get it?" Willow was about to open her mind to call her dibs on slaying the intruding vamp when a shadow dropped from atop the porch roof and landed straight on Oz, knocking him over the banister and sending him flying three stories down to the fountain, where the other vampire waited. "OZ!" Willow shrieked, turning to the wrought-iron stairs and quickly running down the winding steps, tightening her hold on her stake and ignoring the pain as her feet pounded against the metal. In a few seconds she had made it to the first floor, and she quickly hurried across the square to the fountain, barely registering the fact that Echo and Devon were right at her heels. Oz was not stupid-no human being could survive behind thrown three stories down into the unforgiving earth. But his werewolf form could at least recover quickly, and the only misgiving that he had was that he had really messed up his shirt. He quickly morphed in mid-air, silently thanking Willow's friend SilverDragon, who had so meticulously shown him how to change from werewolf to human in just an instant. It had felt rather . . . good, to know that there were others like him, others who also had to live like he and Willow did. Anyway, back to the point. The vampire was extremely surprised that when they reached the ground, he held in his clutches not a somewhat scrawny human, but a big, strong, and angry lycanthrope. The vampire released his grip and tried to jump off the werewolf, but Oz wasn't about to let this guy go. As the vampire crawled away, Oz jumped on his back and slashed it open with his paw, causing the vampire to let out a cry in agony. In the building across the square, a light flicked on. A woman came to the window and tossed it open, noticing the commotion outside. Sigh, another vampire. Since this part of Mexico was still very rural, they were very much into the old beliefs, and this woman, like most of the others around these parts, knew of the existence of ancient evils. This woman was not scared. All she did was take the cross that was hanging over her bed and place it on the window, and then picked up the phone to call her aunt that lived across the street, in the apartment above the one where the werewolves/witches lived. Then she went back to sleep, not afraid at all, knowing that whatever vampire stupid enough to attack anyone in these parts would soon be annihilated by the nice people who had moved in a few months ago. Devon and Echo, what with their experiences in Chinese/Japanese fighting, set to beating the pulp out of the vampire by the fountain, not staking it until it cried for mercy. Willow just sat by the edge of the fountain, waiting for Oz to do his stuff. Now that the vampire was in some pain and not up to his full strength, Oz changed back into something resembling more human. He rolled away from the vampire, and then grabbed him by the shoulders. The vampire growled with ferocity, and then kicked Oz hard in the shin. Oz winced, but he just lifted the vampire off from the floor and flung over to where Willow was. Willow smiled and pushed the vampire face-first into the water, instantly setting off smoke. The vampire squealed and screamed as she plunged him fully into the deep, watching him writhe and cry out with pain. Not for nothing had she and Echo blessed all the water in this fountain. Oz came up behind her, gathering the bits of clothing that still hung off of him around the places that needed most to be covered. Echo and Devon, done torturing their vampire, gathered around Willow. None of them made any move as to pull the vampire out of the blazing water, Willow and Oz stared with grim satisfaction as the vampire screamed for a mercy, and Willow felt extreme pleasure at seeing such an evil being suffering so. It deserved it. "Ok, we can kill it now," she announced, crossing her arms over her chest. She was content enough already. Oz made no move whatsoever, because his human self was still healing. Devon, stronger than Willow or Echo, reached out and pulled the vampire, who's skin had turn black and smelled faintly like a building did after it had been incinerated by a house fire. He easily shoved a stake right into the heart, and then he was left clutching at dust and air. They were silent for a moment, collecting their thoughts. Then Echo shifted the weight on her feet. She was tired. "G'night," she told the rest of the group, heading back towards the stairs. "We can work on the song tomorrow. Ok?" The rest of the group shrugged. //*\\ End of Part C and Chapter 1 //*\\ Feedback is so way wanted and needed and loved with tenderness and care. Both Pos and Neg. ~Shadows~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Titanic437@aol.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (2a/?) Date: 02 Jan 1999 01:45:21 EST TITLE: Can't Hide the Past * AUTHOR: Shadows * DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on your own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at Titanic437@aol.com * DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last episode that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then my mind will have it's own play. Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to all of them. Chapter 2: Stupid Xander screw up things for the Scooby Gang, in a majorly weird way. * DISCLAIMER: Ok, I have some stuff to say as to what is not mine and what *is* mine. Rupert Giles: Don't own him. You know who he belongs to. You know who he is. * * * Can't Hide the Past Chapter 2 Part A (Cause stupid AOL won't let me post the whole darn thing in one e- mail!!!) As 17-year-old Willow Rosenberg sat in front of the computer in the library, she thought to herself {Love really does make you do the wacky}. It had started out as a stupid clothes fluke-as least, that's what she and Xander had thought. It was just the rush of him seeing her in a dress and her seeing him in a tux-they had never seen each other like that before, and they had been taken by surprise. I mean, they had been best friends forever, and seeing each other look so . . . different, had come quite as a shock to their raging & changing hormones. The whole thing was just an accident that would happen only once. Or so they had thought. They had continued to meet, to touch, to kiss . . . and at least Willow was feeling overwhelmingly guilty because she was doing all of this behind Oz's back. She had no idea what Xander was thinking, or not thinking, about Cordelia's feelings. All she knew was that she felt this amazing love and compassion for Oz, and what she felt for Xander was-well, even now, weeks after it had happened, she had still now idea about what exactly *had* happened. Her emotions were . . . aurggh! She couldn't even think of a word for what she was feeling for Xander. Lust . . . need . . . want . . . passion . . . ? Was that what Xander had with Cordelia? Was that what Xander had first had for Cordelia, before it blossomed into some kind of strange and twisted like (love?)? Would Willow and Xander, if they had a relationship, turn out like Cordelia and Xander did? And what about Oz . . . Oh, they couldn't have kept up the charade anyhow. Sooner or later somebody would have figure out what was going on. But did it have to be such a spectacular finish? Jeez, what did the Hellmouth's rays *not* effect in their lives? And poor Cordelia had suffered the worst . . .imagine being impaled like that. Willow shuddered. For some reason, out of sheer luck, she had gotten back with Oz. Of course, things didn't turn out as planned for the night . . . they had turned out better. She still had her virginity and self respect, and Oz thrown in for good measure. But now things were *so damn awkward* that she had no idea how she was gonna deal. Things were not back to being perfect, before . . . that thing with Xander. Oz was with her alright, but the look in his eyes . . . she didn't have to look too deep or far to see the pained expression of hurt and betrayal whenever he looked at her. Or the way that he was so stiff and a little bit more quiet than usual. Or how he smiled more often like he was only smiling for show. And how he didn't touch her as much. Or he had yet to say the words that she had held so dear . . . "I love you." And she didn't even want to think about what was going on between her and Xander. After she and Oz had broken up, and Cordelia and him were no longer an item, they had remained friends, although things had been SO majorly awkward. And now that she was back together with Oz . . . Her mother had given her odd looks, but she agreed to tell Xander whenever he called that Willow was not home, or in the shower, or studying, or out with Oz. Those were reasonable activities. Whenever Xander came knocking on her door, she ignored the knocking until he went away, or told her parents not to answer the door. She ignored Xander at schools, ate lunch solely with Oz, and pretended he didn't exist in the classes they had together. Xander had tried to confront her about this avoiding, but she had just shrugged him off, practically running down the hall to get away from him. When Buffy was brought up to talk to Willow, Willow had told her that everything was fine, and that she was just going through a "healing process," although that was a bunch of shit because it was she who had inflicted the pain, not received it. Now she allowed herself in the library, confident that Xander was not coming because he said he had a dentist appointment. She had thought that was strange, because he already had had the "two-a-year" thing happen, but he ate so much junk food she was not at all surprised that he had to go to the dentist's more often. It was . . . a normal thing. Giles was in his office, going over a new shipment that a Watcher friend of his had sent him from somewhere in Switzerland, from a town who's name Willow could not pronounce if it depended on her life. She was busy in a chat room, talking with other teens who were facing relationship problems . . . probably not as weird or twisted as hers, but she felt a strange kind of solace in seeing that other people were somewhat as screwed in the love department as she was. She was busy typing her sympathy for a boy named Tim when she heard someone come up behind her. "Interesting book, Giles?" she murmured, not taking her attention off of the computer screen. "No, not Giles. Me, Xander." Willow was so surprised that she slammed her fingers down into the keyboard, hard enough so that she felt the pain minutes afterwards. She jumped out of the chair like it was on fire, and then backed away from the computer, pushing her shoulder-length red hair behind her ears. Then she just stood around, staring warily at Xander, and trying not to show it. "Um, so, Xander . . . I thought you went to the doctor-uh, dentist! The dentist, yeah." She was wringing her hands nervously and flicking her eyes towards the front door. "I lied," Xander said, simply and clearly. He rested his hand on the chair Willow had just evacuated. "I need to talk to you." His face and voice changed to one of hurt. "Why are you avoiding me?" Willow bit her lip. "Um, ah, well . . . you know what happened. Between us. Yes, you know. You were there." She took in a deep breath. "What I, you, we, us, did . . . we hurt a lot of people. And I hurt Oz. And now I have him back and . . . I don't want him to get any ideas, or anything. Like I told you before . . . I need to be just for him." Xander creased his eyebrows. "So . . . that means you can't talk to me. That means that you constantly have to avoid me. That you can barely be in the same *room* with me? Do you think I'm gonna just go ahead and jump your bones or something? Because I'm not thinking about that anymore, Willow. What we did . . . we did, and it's over." Willow opened her mouth to protest, but Xander just continued on and didn't give her a chance to speak. "So then where is he gonna get these ideas. Unless you are . . . look, I know that there's after effects. Of course there is. And I understand that now that you have Oz back, it's going to be a little more awkward. But *this*? Willow, we've been best friends since forever, and although this changes a lot, it certainly can't change *everything*. Everything doesn't have to change." Willow face softened. "Xander, you don't understand. Everything does change . . ." There was the sound of someone clearing their voice from behind Xander. Xander turned around while Willow stood up on tiptoe to glance over his shoulder. It was Giles, holding several book in his hands. "Am I interrupting . . . anything?" Giles asked, saying each word slowly and carefully. "No!" Willow said too soon and too loudly. She cleared her throat and looked down at the books in his hands. "Um, interesting books?" Her voice squeaked. "Um . . . yes, quite." He piled the books near at the computer, bristling at actually being so close to the idiot box. "Ancient books of prophetical lore. Actually, most of these texts are a bit outdated, and most of its prophecies have already come to past. Still, there are some that have yet to be fulfilled . . ." He picked the top most book up, opened it, then scooted a little past Xander to hand Willow the book. "I would like you to look through some of these books, Willow, if you have time. And Xander,"-Giles briefly shot him a look-"since you are here anyway, could you help Willow look through some of these texts?" "Sure," Xander said, sounded as enthusiastic as he always did about doing research. Giles just nodded and handed him a book, and then disappeared back into his office. Xander sighed, and then looked at Willow, who was avoiding his glance. He sighed again, and then his eyes fell onto the computer screen. "Relationship Problems?" he inquired about the chat. Willow's eyes widened expressively and she lurched forward, shutting the monitor off. "Nothing," she said meekly, very, very embarrassed. Xander as about to say something when somebody else made their entrance. The original Slayerette turned towards the double doors to greet their new visitor. "Hi Buffy! You came just in time for research!" Xander said cheerfully, far from the actual emotion that he was feeling. Just because he wasn't getting along with Cordelia or Willow didn't mean that he had to take I out on Buffy. Dammit, he had one girl friend left, and he was gonna take care of her. "Goody for me," Buffy said with her usual wryness. "Where's Giles? I need to talk to him." "Right here." Giles appeared out of his door again, looking around the library as though he were searching for something along the walls. "What is it?" he asked, giving her his attention. "It's about . . . a dream I had last night," Buffy said, a thought flashing through her mind. Oh, the last dream that she had had been her with Angel, with them making love . . . she didn't permit herself to think of the end part of the dream at all. "Um, it was pretty weird, so I figured that was right up your alley. No?" "Oh, yes, well, come right into the office," he said, glancing over at Willow and Xander. They turned back to their books, Xander flipping just too earnestly to actually mean it. Willow shot him a look when he wasn't looking, thinking about the conversation they had just had. Everything did have to change. Muffled voices came from the office, but Xander ignored them as he squinted at a word on the page before him. "Hey, this may be just because I'm really hungry, but does this word say "taco?" The text he pointed to was written in some ancient language. Willow took a moment to decided whether she was going to pay attention to him or not, and then decided she was. She peered over his arm and at the book, noticing that it did say taco. Then she looked at the bottom of the page, where a key was that more or less told you how to pronounce the language, if not tell you what it means. "It does say taco, but the key says that the 'o' is pronounced like the vowel 'u' in this language. So it's really saying 'tacu' instead of 'taco.'" "Oh," Xander said, shrugging. Willow went back to her page as Xander continued studying the page. When she turned around again, she could see him whispering some of the words on the page softly. "Don't do that!" she said suddenly, slapping his hand. He looked up at her, startled. "For all you know, you could be reading a spell! That you do not know what it does! Read in your head!" {Fine} Xander thought, a little bit tensely. All week she acts like a bitch (well, kinda) and now that they were talking again, she was being harsh. "Fine," he said aloud, turning back to the book and reading loudly in his head. Of course, what Xander didn't know and what Willow *should've* known that even a spell read loudly in the head of the spellcaster, willingly or unknowingly, still pretty much damn worked. *** "So . . . I was standing at the foot of my bed, staring down at me. I was sleeping really soundly, and at first I thought I was having one of those out- of-body experience thingies, but then I noticed that something was wrong. I was staring at myself in the face, and my body was lying down on the bed, so I was pretty short. Mom just put in a floor-length mirror, so I rushed over there to check out what had happened to me. And what stared *back* at me was a little girl, about six or so years old. She had long brown hair and these really dark green eyes, like the cover of that book over there." Buffy pointed at a small Watcher Diary that was sitting on the corner of Giles' desk, showing him the color of the girl's eyes. She leaned forward in the rolling office chair that she was sitting backwards in, a new chair that replaced the old one Giles used to have. He had complained forever that the chair fell over, so Snyder finally got him a new one, although it came out of his paycheck. "So anyway, I'm staring at myself, and then the image kinda fades away and then I see my normal reflection in the mirror. I turn back to my bed, and try to get back into my body, but the little girl is lying in my bed instead of my body, staring back at me. Staring at me with those weird green eyes of hers. And the covers of my bed keep changing from their regular peach to this really pretty shade of lavender. Then I walk over and ask what her name is. And then she says 'I'm not suppose to talk to strangers.' And then I wake up." Giles made a "hmm" noise as he thought about Buffy's dream. "Well, it may be prophetic," he told her, not an unusually dissection on her nightly dreams. "You are the Slayer, after all. Actually, Xander and Willow are researching some volumes that may be able to tell you what the dreams are about, whether it is a minor or major prophecy . . ." Giles was drifting off into Gilesdom, his little land of book and researching and lore. A land that was hard to get him back from. "Woo-hoo, Giles, back to Earth," Buffy said, waving her hand in front of his face. Giles blinked, and then stared back at Buffy, this time her face registering. "Hmm, alright. Lets go research some of those book for ourselves." Giles stood up and walked to the door, waiting for Buffy to join him. Then he held the door courteously open for her, a gesture that did not go unnoticed. There was a special bond between Watcher and Slayer, and ltitle things like that really did make the world go round. Now only if Buffy would be a more thoughtful Slayer . . . Giles held doors open for her, and Buffy had sex with her vampire boyfriend so that he turned into a vicious killer who went and killed Giles' girlfriend and tortured Giles himself. Not good. She had a lot to make up for. *** Willow was busy reading, again, when she felt a soft shiver go throughout her whole body, originating somewhere between her belly and her chest, then crawl up her spine, and the enter the back of her mind. The feeling was somewhat chilling, still very enjoyable. Willow creased her eyebrows in frustration. Where was . . . "WHO'S USING MAGIC?" Willow demanded, her tone much louder than she had mean it to be. She whirled around, and then noticed Xander still holding the book open, eyes darting from line to line and his lips moved softly, not making a sound. Willow reached out and knocked the book out of his hands, causing Xander to jump and then look at her, caught off-guard. "What are you doing!" she shouted, this time her voice in check. Xander, who didn't really know what he was doing (poor boy) just shrugged and said, "What?" Willow glared at him, and then bent over, grabbing the book from where it had landed on the floor, still open the page where Xander had been reading from. She quickly looked it over. If Xander had indeed cast a spell, surely there would be some indication of what exactly he had done . . . ///***\\\ End of Part A ///**\\\ Feedbaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Need Feedbaaaaaaaaack! ~Shadows~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: "J. Jericho Born" Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (01/16) Date: 02 Jan 1999 00:03:31 -0800 TITLE: "Flies to Honey" (Part 01/16) AUTHOR: J. Jericho Born E-MAIL: traction@sirius.com FEEDBACK: Please let me know what you think of my fanfic with some feedback. DISTRIBUTION: The author reserves rights on this story. Please do not distribute without expressed permission. RATING: PG-13 Contains violence. SPOILERS: Spoilers to previous fanfic. If you would like to read the preceding story you can download it at < http://www.sirius.com/~traction/buffy >. DESCRIPTION: The sequel to "The Necromancer". Abel is now unconcious, but attracting vampires like flies to honey. Buffy is caught between protecting her enemy and helping her friend Willow find her beloved Oz. Meanwhile, Willow gets deeper into magic and the occult in order to find a way to restore Oz to human form. DISCLAIMER: The writer of this unauthorized fan fiction is not affiliated with any of the parties involved in the making of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and whomever else the lawyers may deem fit, they are used without permission. Technically that is not legal, but I'm not anticipating any law suits. This work, the plot line, and the characters introduced that are not already featured on Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the work of Joshua Jericho Born, Copyright 1998. ============== Opening "In every generation there is a chosen one. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer." Willow Rosenburg sat alone at a bench in front of Sunnydale High. The brightness of the cloudless sky and cheery teenagers didn't bleed into her overcast world. Her beloved Oz had been taken from her, that thought haunted her wherever she went no matter with whom she held company. As if being separated from her boyfriend wasn't bad enough she had to deal with the fact that Oz was now a werewolf on a permanent basis. She couldn't imagine what he could be doing unwittingly and how it would tear him up if he knew. "Hey," greeted Buffy as she joined her friend at the bench. Buffy examined Willow's gloomy expression with compassionate distaste. "Still thinking about Oz?" Buffy inquired softly. Willow nodded and frowned in acknowledgment. "You don't know what's it's like to lose the one you love under such horrible circumstances. . . oh. . . uh. . . oh, yeah, you do," Willow said, ending apologetically. "Don't worry, we can brood together," Buffy comforted with a dab of humor and an unhealthy dose of sobriety. "Have you figured out a place to store. . . him?" asked Willow. She still couldn't say the name of the person who had caused this terrible situation to come about. The others had developed a curious sort of pet rock affinity to the body of their fallen foe, but she was still apathetic. "Not yet," Buffy answered. Willow looked up and scoured the horizon sharply, quickly she returned to hanging her head. Buffy had noticed Willow do this several times a day. "Are you looking for him?" Buffy queried. "Every now and again I get the sensation he's standing there," Willow explained. "We'll find him and bring him back," assured Buffy. Willow gazed out once more and said, "I just can't believe what Oz might be doing out there as a werewolf." Many beastly shaped footprints away in another town a group of elementary school children had decided to play hooky that day. They scampered around a couple boxes to arrive at their destination: an abandoned warehouse. "It's in there," one declared. "It's probably just a stray dog," one of his cynical friends replied. "It's not just a dog. I've seen it, it's a huge mother-" a foul mouthed companion affirmed, but his statement was cut short. "Shut your mouth!" the disbeliever interrupted. The group of kids stood there each waiting for someone else to say or do something. "Well," the cynic said. "Well, what?" the one who had led them there asked. "Go inside," said the skeptic hearted child as he gestured toward a rickety door. "You go inside," replied the lead kid. "You're the one who brought us here. You go in first," bartered the cynic. "Ok," agreed the leader. He took brave hearted step after brave hearted step until his Nikes were within one pace of the warehouse. Intimidated, the boy reached out slowly and he strained to push the door aside. With a gulp he stepped forward into the run down building. "Is there anything in there?" a cautious friend called out. His bold companion had no chance to reply. A growl and flash of movement brought about his disappearance into the darkness of the warehouse. The assembled children scattered in hysteria, letting out terrified screams of horror as they ran. ============== ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: "J. Jericho Born" Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (02/16) Date: 02 Jan 1999 00:04:45 -0800 TITLE: "Flies to Honey" (Part 02/16) AUTHOR: J. Jericho Born E-MAIL: traction@sirius.com FEEDBACK: Please let me know what you think of my fanfic with some feedback. DISTRIBUTION: The author reserves rights on this story. Please do not distribute without expressed permission. RATING: PG-13 Contains violence. SPOILERS: Spoilers to previous fanfic. If you would like to read the preceding story you can download it at < http://www.sirius.com/~traction/buffy >. DESCRIPTION: The sequel to "The Necromancer". Abel is now unconcious, but attracting vampires like flies to honey. Buffy is caught between protecting her enemy and helping her friend Willow find her beloved Oz. Meanwhile, Willow gets deeper into magic and the occult in order to find a way to restore Oz to human form. DISCLAIMER: The writer of this unauthorized fan fiction is not affiliated with any of the parties involved in the making of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and whomever else the lawyers may deem fit, they are used without permission. Technically that is not legal, but I'm not anticipating any law suits. This work, the plot line, and the characters introduced that are not already featured on Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the work of Joshua Jericho Born, Copyright 1998. ============== Scene 1 Giles looked quite dapper and orderly while he worked away in the Sunnydale High library. His mundane world job would be interrupted once again by the supernatural, however, as Xander peeked his head through the duo of doors that gave entry to the library. "Do you have. . . er. . . Abel?" questioned Giles. Xander nodded quickly before his head disappeared behind the double doors. He reentered backwards, duffle bag in tow. Giles rubbed his hands together in anticipation as Xander brought his baggage to bear. With a squat and a hefty lift from Xander the duffle bag lay on a table. "Hey," Buffy greeted. She, Willow, and Cordelia entered the library together. Willow left the trio in favor of a solitary corner when she saw the item that was on display. "Did anyone see you dragging a body through school?" asked Cordelia. "Just a freshman named Chris," answered Xander. "The kid with the posters of aliens in his locker who thinks the CIA is flying black helicopters over his house?" inquired Buffy. "That's the one. I don't think anyone will be too quick to call the cops when they hear his story," replied Xander. "So you've found a place to store him then?" asked Buffy. "Yes, there's a mausoleum in the graveyard that's missing it's occupant thanks, ironically enough, to Abel himself," Giles explained. "Oh, yeah, the one with big iron gate on the south side?" Buffy blurted out. "Ok, I spend way too much time in the graveyard," she added. "As I was saying, the occupant doesn't have any relatives locally so I don't think anyone will mind if we borrow it. It's sort of fitting anyway," Giles continued. He opened the duffle bag to find Abel with a pair of joke glasses proudly seated on his face. All eyes immediately went to Xander. "Hey! I've been looking for those," Xander declared as he quickly retrieved his gag. He inadvertently knocked Abel's head back, opening his jaw. "Oops, sorry about that, big guy," apologized Xander. He went about rectifying his mistake by placing his hands top and bottom on Abel's head and performing an exaggerated clamping motion. "His hair is all messed up," observed Cordelia. Now she was the one who began to attend to their comatose enemy. She bumped Xander out of the way and went about fixing Abel's hair. "Cordy, stop grooming the evil arch villain!" facetiously chastised Xander with a laugh. Buffy noticed Willow escape quietly into a side room. Concerned, she followed her friend. Among the tidily kept office, Willow turned her back to the main library. "It's not every day you have to handle an unconscious necromancer. They're just coping with the awkward situation," offered Buffy. "I know," said Willow, still facing the far wall, "It's just. . . I'd rather not be around him even if he is practically dead." Understanding, Buffy nodded empathically and rejoined the conversation in the main room. "I don't get it," Cordelia said, "Why do we need to put him under lock and key anyway?" "It seems that vampires are attracted to his body because of the dark energies it channels, rather like how flies are attracted to honey," explained Giles. "This way we can keep him in a place where vampires tend to hang anyway and where Buffy can check up on him when she's making her rounds," added Xander. ============== ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: "J. Jericho Born" Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (03/16) Date: 02 Jan 1999 00:06:00 -0800 TITLE: "Flies to Honey" (Part 03/16) AUTHOR: J. Jericho Born E-MAIL: traction@sirius.com FEEDBACK: Please let me know what you think of my fanfic with some feedback. DISTRIBUTION: The author reserves rights on this story. Please do not distribute without expressed permission. RATING: PG-13 Contains violence. SPOILERS: Spoilers to previous fanfic. If you would like to read the preceding story you can download it at < http://www.sirius.com/~traction/buffy >. DESCRIPTION: The sequel to "The Necromancer". Abel is now unconcious, but attracting vampires like flies to honey. Buffy is caught between protecting her enemy and helping her friend Willow find her beloved Oz. Meanwhile, Willow gets deeper into magic and the occult in order to find a way to restore Oz to human form. DISCLAIMER: The writer of this unauthorized fan fiction is not affiliated with any of the parties involved in the making of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and whomever else the lawyers may deem fit, they are used without permission. Technically that is not legal, but I'm not anticipating any law suits. This work, the plot line, and the characters introduced that are not already featured on Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the work of Joshua Jericho Born, Copyright 1998. ============== Scene 2 A slightly glazed over Buffy patrolled a chilly Sunnydale night with stake in hand. The graveyard was such a lonely place this time in the evening. The odd vampire that popped up every now and again wouldn't be very much company, well not for long anyway. She came upon two such vampires, snooping and clawing around the crypt that Abel had been stashed in. Stealthily, Buffy snuck up behind the two vampires with ease. It was kind of amusing the way they were drawn to the mausoleum without knowing what they were looking for. One rattled the iron gate on the crypt. He gestured and grunted to the other one to help him pry it open. It was time for the Slayer to make her move. "Didn't you read the sign? No loitering after seven p.m.," sarcastically quipped Buffy. The two turned and snarled simultaneously. To her surprise one actually spoke before the melee ensued. "We want to know what's in there," demanded an ugly vampire. "Oh, of course. That's where they keep the Beanie Babies. Which one's your favorite?" replied Buffy. The two vampires looked at each other in mutual disbelief then pounced. Unfortunately for them, one of them pounced right into Buffy's awaiting stake and dissolved into ashes. The other one managed to get a claw at Buffy's other arm, ripping a chunk of her jacket off. "Do you know how much this jacket cost me?" questioned an annoyed Slayer. She attacked the remaining vampire with a fierce kick to the stomach. Winded, the vampire couldn't return blows. Buffy followed with a backhand to the head. With her victim on the ground she plunged her stake into his chest. This vampire didn't turn to ashes so quickly, however. Surprised, Buffy soon caught a glimpse of a flailing foot followed by a close up view of the neatly trimmed graveyard grass. The resilient vampire jumped onto Buffy, taking care to place his knee painfully into her back. Countering his grappling maneuver, she managed to roll over and put her opponent in a prone position. This time Buffy made sure to hold the stake in place as she thrust the new weapon into the vampire's chest. A brief struggle later, she was sitting on a pile of ashes instead of a kicking and growling vampire. "You and your new and improved vampires," Buffy yelled toward the crypt, getting up as she talked. Abel had a way of being annoying even when unconscious. ============== ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Titanic437@aol.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (1b/?) Date: 02 Jan 1999 03:26:14 EST TITLE: Can't Hide the Past * AUTHOR: Shadows * DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on your own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at Titanic437@aol.com * DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last episode that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then my mind will have it's own play. Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to all of them. Chapter 2: Stupid Xander screw up things for the Scooby Gang, in a majorly weird way. * DISCLAIMER: Ok, I have some stuff to say as to what is not mine and what *is* mine. Rupert Giles: Don't own him. You know who he belongs to. You know who he is. * * * Can't Hide the Past Chapter 2 Part A (Cause stupid AOL won't let me post the whole darn thing in one e- mail!!!) After the vampire scare, Xander had been afraid to go, much let the children out. He had gathered the whole family in the living room, and then spoke secretly to Cordelia while Julie and Josh had tried to listen it. Then, Xander had proposed that they stay in the house for the rest of they day, since it was the safest place that he could think of. "Brain-trust, Xander," Cordelia had told him gently, in her own version of gently. At least she had become slightly more caring over the years. "It's daylight outside. The vampires can't possibly get us." She then had waited quietly as Xander once again steered Julie and Josh back to the couch where their older stepbrother was waiting patiently and their younger half-sister was busy painting herself and the couch with her lollipop. "Besides, it's the 21st. Almost Christmas. We've got presents to buy and things to do. We just can't drop it because you're afraid vampires are going to magically appear in the sunlight. I promise, we'll be home a good hour before sunset, and pick up Nicholas from his violin lesson. And Julie and Josh from their soccer game. And Annie from Natalie's house." Xander had given her a wary look, but then gave in. They had breakfast, drove the kids to their respected places, and then took the subway to Fifth Avenue, right to the place where Cordelia had ended her torture yesterday. "Ooh, look at that dress!" Cordelia squealed for the fiftieth time that morning, tugging on Xander's arm, since his hands were full of packages and bags. Amazing that such young children could think of so many things that they wanted for Christmas. "Buy me that for Christmas?' Cordelia sighed, walking up to the window. She touched the glass lovingly as she imagine that she was touching the ice blue, slinky, sleeveless dress that was hanging on a display mannequin just inside. "Ooh, will you Xander?" She turned towards him, her eyes begging. It almost wanted to make him break out in laughter, although he knew that it would be rude. Women. Definitely the weaker of the sexes. "Sure, honey," he told her sincerely, coming up and with his free hand, caressing her right arm. She smiled warmly at him, liking his touch and the little PDA. "But that would mean we either a) return most of the kid's presents or b) narrow down your lists of 'All I Want For Christmas', because it's definitely just not teeth." Cordelia laughed, and then gave his a quick pop kiss on the mouth, and then walked down the street ahead of him, swinging her hips the way he liked it. "I guess we'll have to get rid of those toys I wanted . . ." she said a bit wistfully. "Hey, wait, I thought those were on my list!" Xander said jokingly, coming up behind her. He grabbed her in a hug, and soon they were surrounded by a little circle of packages and very close to each others faces. The other New Yorkers around them wasted no time in passing by them quickly, or stopping to stare at the two people so obviously in love. "Xander, you are such . . . aurggh," she teased, reaching up to grab the collar of his jacket. She tugged playfully on it and then set to buttoning the top button. She was close enough to feel his heart increase in it's rate of beating. Men. Definitely the weaker sex. "Such a complete idiot!" "I'm not a complete idiot," Xander protested, watching his wife do her little wife-y thing. "I have a few missing parts." Cordelia laughed again. "I know." That made Xander laugh along, though he was interrupted when Cordelia leaned in for another kiss, one that lasted a bit longer than the first. When she pulled away, Xander whispered, "People are staring." "You're eyes were open?" she admonished. "I like looking at you, even when we kiss. I can't take my eyes off of you." {Oh, how romantic}. She was melting. Cordelia whirled out of his embrace, something very hard to do on Fifth Street, 5 days away from Christmas. She smiled, her dimples showing, and held out her hand. Xander grasped hold of hers, running his fingers over her knuckles and over the wedding ring, the one identical to the one he wore on his own ring finger. They huddled close, because of the cold and the crowd and something more, and they continued walking. That was when Xander ran into the wall. *** "Shit!" Xander swore loudly as he felt his noise connect with the wall. He closed his eyes and grasped his nose, trying to see if he had broken anything or if blood was coming out. When the hell was there a wall in the middle of Fifth Street's sidewalk? As the pain subsided, Xander opened his eyes to find out where the wall had sprung from. Then he noticed that he wasn't on Fifth Street anymore. "Shi . . ." he started, but ended up trailing off. His eyes roamed up the wall, and as he stepped back, his eyes continued to rove over the double doors. "Where the . . ." Then he turned around, and saw a sight he'd thought he'd never, *ever* see. "Holy hell," he murmured, as he looked into the very frightened face of his younger self. *** After Willow had begun to urgently read through the book, Buffy and Giles had come up behind Xander, asking what had happened. Xander had gotten flushed and said that he might had made a boo-boo. Giles, more than a little upset, yanked the book out of Willow's hands and set to deciphering what the heck Xander had done. A few seconds later, Buffy had whispered urgently to the other three, "Hey, who's that?" They all stared at the stranger who had appeared out of nowhere, and then Xander had gotten the oddest feeling. He found himself walking, his feet like lead, to where the stranger was. Imagine his shock and surprise when the stranger turned around, and he found himself lookig into an extremely familiar, but quite different, face. "Xander, what did you do *now*?" came the exasperated female voices from across the room. The two Xander's turned to look at the girls, the same exact things on their minds. ///***\\\ End of Part B. I know it's a bit short, but . . . ///***\\\ Me need feedback. Me want feedback. Pwease . . . ~Shadows~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Titanic437@aol.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (2c/?) Date: 02 Jan 1999 16:11:17 EST The author is sorry that she screwed up majorly. Ignore that last 1b thing. That was supposed to be 2b. I'm so disorganized. It was like, 3:00 in the morning or something. Forgive me? * TITLE: Can't Hide the Past * AUTHOR: Shadows * DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on your own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at Titanic437@aol.com * DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last episode that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then my mind will have it's own play. Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to all of them. Chapter 2: Stupid Xander screws up things for the Scooby Gang, in a majorly weird way. * DISCLAIMER: Ok, I have some stuff to say as to what is not mine and what *is* mine. Rupert Giles: Don't own him. You know who he belongs to. You know who he is. * * * Can't Hide the Past Chapter 2 Part C (Cause stupid AOL won't let me post the whole darn thing in one e- mail!!!) After Faith's surprise entrance ("Afraid of the competition, eh?") she had jumped onto the leather couch and practically melted in with her surroundings. Dressed in matching black leather, she was also wearing tons of silver jewelry, and she showed lots of skin. Even after her twenties, Faith could still pull the Goth thing off and look totally gorgeous. Of course, Buffy knew how she kept in shape. Buffy had sat down in the loveseat directly across from the couch, after coming back with more cocoa for herself and Faith. Faith didn't seem a bit cold; you worked a lot in the rain, being a Slayer, and your body grew stronger and more immune with every passing night. Buffy, though, was chilled by the subject matter at hand. "Prophecy?" she had asked, her voice barely audible. "Um, yeah," Faith had said. Then she had yawned, something she clearly wasn't planning on doing, because she clapped a hand over her mouth in surprise. "My Watcher-my last Watcher, anyway-told me something disturbing before I, ah, got rid of her. She was really into the book-learning thing-such a turn-off-but the women did have something useful to say." "Like what?" Buffy had urged, wanting to get everything over with. The last time she and Faith had ever spoken, or seen each other, was not under good terms. In fact, the terms were as far from good and they could get. Faith, though, was not acting openly hostile, much like Buffy remembered her to be. Always. Faith had inhaled deeply. God, this cocoa smelled good. Not like the instant coffee she had so grown tired of when she was on the road, and she was on the road a lot. {The story of my life}. "Like-" She was interrupted by the faint, childish wail of "Mother!" that came from upstairs. Faith looked at Buffy, raising her eyebrows. "I better go check on her," Buffy had said, getting up. Faith, although she had to personal contact with Buffy, knew every little intimate detail about her life. Entertainment Weekly and People would make a stalker proud. So, as Buffy raced up the marble steps, Faith understood. In a way. She, herself, had never been able to experience the joys of living in a house she actually owned, much less one this big. Or falling asleep in a bed that didn't change every week or so, next to a man who also didn't change every week or so, or to a man at all. And having a daughter . . . it must be a female thing, because even though Faith hated to admit it, she ached for the children she could never have. {Buffy, that bitch . . .} she had thought, clenching her fists in fury. She practically shook with long-repressed anger. {I can't believe I'm talking to her. I can't believe I'm sitting on her couch. I can't believe I've stooped to getting help from that traitorous runaway}. *** Upstairs, Buffy had pushed the door open to her daughter's bedroom and stood in the shadows of the doorway. Elisabeth Sarah was sitting up in bed, her face not so sleepy anymore, and nervously clutching the bedspread. Buffy strode across the living room and plopped down next to Es. "Another nightmare, sweetheart?" she had asked her, afraid of the answer that she would get. She put a comforting arm around her daughter and drew her into her lap. Elisabeth Sarah snuggled closer to her mother and rested her head on her chest. Buffy rested hers on her daughter's head, wrapping her arms tight around the little bundle of love. "Yes," Elisabeth Sarah had said in a small voice, afraid of admitting the truth. She buried her face in her mother's t-shirt. Jonah knew nothing of Elisabeth Sarah's "nightmares." Once Buffy had found out, she had been vaguely frightened that it would develop into a running theme, that sooner or later these prophetic dreams of her daughter's would lead to the conclusion that Es was a Slayer. The discovery that Es was turning out to be a very meek little girly-girl strayed far from that conclusion, and since Buffy was still alive (and as she had just found out, so was Faith), it seemed highly unlikely that Elisabeth Sarah was going to be a Slayer. Still, Es' clairvoyance bordered very much on the paranormal and strange. Come to think of it, it was just plain paranormal and strange. She did not want Jonah involved in any of those happenings. She did not want Jonah to become a "Slayerette" of sorts. Consequences would be too severe. "Do you want to talk about it?" Buffy had whispered, and she felt Elisabeth Sarah relax in her arms. "I'd like to," Es had murmured, pulling her face out of her Mom's t-shirt and sitting far back enough so that she could look her mother in the face. "It was weird. I was lying in my bed, and then I was in another bed, another nursery. And there was this pretty lady looking down at me, and she asked my name. I said I wasn't suppose to talk to strangers . . . I'm not, Mommy. Daddy told me so. So I didn't. And then I woke up . . . I don't know who's the pretty lady. Do you know?" Buffy had paused to think carefully, to put on a show for Es, but inside she had been bubbling with happiness. This didn't sound like one of Es' prophetic dreams; just something very regular. For all they knew, the lady Es dreamed of could have been anyone: ranging from a character made up from Es' subconscious to a lady of the supermarket that said something vaguely of interest to Es and it stayed in her mind. Just a regular kid. Buffy sighed. "I think I saw the lady at the supermarket," Buffy had told her gently, and Es had closed her eyes and smiled. Buffy wasn't the only one relieved that this wasn't some vision of portent. Back when the earthquake happened . . . Es couldn't sleep for nights before. All those terrible visions, and when she was awake too. She remembered three years ago, sitting at the lunch table, feeding Es some leftover pizza from last night, and the toddler was happily gnawing on the crust, ingesting more saliva than bread. Buffy was heating up some slices for herself in the microoven, when Es suddenly started to cry. Buffy rushed to her side, reached out for her daughter's hand, and asked what was wrong. In between sobs, Es choked out the words "Mr. Harlen! Mr. Harlen! Oh Mommy, don't let him go!" Mr. Harlen was a man somewhere in his early 60's who had offered to fix a leak in the Daly house. Jonah had agreed, a contrast to his usual "I'm a man, I can do it" behavior, because he would be staying at work late. Jonah had ended up coming home early and gone to bed, but that was besides the point. Mr. Harlen had been up there went the earth began to shake. Buffy had gone outside and crawled up the tree besides the house, trying to rescue him. He had fallen off the roof, but Buffy was there just in time to grab his hand. She had a good grip . . . but then the tree had fallen over. She buckled herself in the right position to land without breaking any important bone, slightly awkward because she was holding on to Mr. Harlen. And then, she had let go, and the last thing she had heard from him when he was alive was his screams as the tree collapsed over him. Es could be eerily accurate. "I'm tired, Mommy," Elisabeth Sarah had said, yawning. She pulled away from her Mommy and crawled over to her pillow, diving under the covers. "Tuck me in," she giggled childishly. Buffy had laughed and shifted her position so that now she was beside Es. She kissed her daughter on the forehead and pulled the covers up to her chin, careful to keep Es' hands over the covers. Then she had picked up Mr. Gordo and a stuff monkey called Ms. Jumbles and place them on alternate sides of her daughter. Es had smiled contently. "Night-night, Mommy," she had whispered, her eyelids already heavy with sleeps. "Sweet dreams," Buffy repeated from earlier that night. And as she stood up to leave the room, she realized that she really meant it. For everyone's sake. *** Now Buffy stood in front of the couch, watching the deep, even breaths of Faith. Fallen right asleep while Buffy had gone upstairs to check on her daughter. Buffy wondered for a moment if it was all a trick. Faith had always seemed to be on the road, even before Buffy had left Sunnydale again, and she might have just wanted a place to stay for the night. But no, Faith would have come right out and demanded it. She wouldn't have lied about a prophecy to get in. Would she? Buffy didn't know. She didn't know anything anymore . . . and that lack of knowledge really bothered her. She heard a padded behind her on the carpet, and then heavy breathing. She smiled, and turned around, dropping to her knees. "Hey Giles," she said affectionately, grabbing Giles in a big bear hug. The golden retriever panted happily, and licked Buffy's face with his large, rough, red tongue. "Ew, doggy kisses," Buffy laughed, rubbing the top of Giles' shaggy blond head. Then she closed her eyes and kissed the dog on her nose. "You know just how to cheer me up, Giles." She could've sworn the dog grinned. But instead, Giles opened his mouth to bark, but Buffy grabbed his snout and pointed over to Faith. "Sleeping," she told the dog, who had grown to know the meaning after the nights she had trained to be quiet around Es, who as a baby started to cry in fear whenever Giles barked at her. "Ssh." The dog looked back at Buffy, nodding his head sagely. The gesture was so human that Buffy smiled again. This dog had been around people for too long. Sometimes he reminded her of the real thing. "I'm not asleep," came the voice of Faith. Buffy turned around again, and saw Faith lifting her head off the leather couch. "You named the dog after your Watcher?" she said groggily, a faint smile on her face. Buffy blushed. "Uh . . . yes," she admitted, feeling a bit foolish. She put one arm around her dogs back and began to carefully run her hand over. Giles lay down, enjoying the feeling, and put his head on his front paws. He looked straight at Faith with that knowledgeable expression, blinking his big brown eyes. "I named a beagle after Xander once," Faith said, drifting off to nappy land again. She allowed herself a yawn. "It was a stupid dog. Damned horny, too." Buffy giggled. "Sounds like the Xander I remember." Faith didn't answer, because she was already snowing. Buffy cast a glance at her dog and raised an eyebrow. "Think we should do the same?" Giles snuffed heavily through his nose. His ear flicked back and Buffy took that s a sign of his distress. "Sorry Giles, reports of ancient prophecies are to be held off tomorrow due to sleepage," she told the dog. "Now how 'bout you and me snoozing a bit ourselves?" Giles snorted and quickly rose up to his feet, tail wagging and tug hanging out of his mind. "That a yes?" Buffy asked, rising up to her feet, grabbing the arm of the couch to steady herself. "Mommy?" Buffy whirled around, nerves taught-jeez, what the hell else was gonna present itself tonight?-when she realized it was only Es, standing at the stairs, holding the railing with one tiny hand. The large, lavender nightie seemed awfully big on her, and she seemed like the whisp of a ghost. She was so pale . . . she hadn't gone out much, lately. "What is it, Es?" Buffy asked for the fiftieth time that night, as Es climbed down the remaining steps and down into the living room, lost in the carpet. She walked over to where her Mom was and stood before her, her bottom lip jutting out just slightly. "Can I sleep with Giles tonight?" Es asked, looking at the dog. Giles, happy as ever to see her, quickly bounded up to her and licked her hand. Es allowed herself a tiny smile on her perfectly full lips. "You'll have to ask Giles," Buffy said. "And it seems to me like he totally agrees with you." Giles yipped softly, and nodded his head emphatically. Es smiled and patted her dog around the folds of his neck. Then she looked past Buffy, to the strange woman who was splayed out on the couch, snoring softly. "Mommy, who's that?" Buffy turned to meet her gaze, and then swallowed the lump in her throat. How was she gonna explain Faith to Es? How was she gonna explain Faith to *Jonah*. {Think, Buffy, think. A mind is a terrible thing to waste}. "She's a friend of Mommy's. She's sleeping over here . . . because she needs a place to stay for the night." She took Es' hand. "Maybe when she wakes up, you can talk and play with her." Yeah right. Buffy did not want any of Faith's "personality" to rub off on her daughter. "Oh," Es said, letting her gaze drift over to the coffee table. She seemed slightly worried. "Es?" Buffy asked, prodding gently. "Is that the lady you had a dream about?" "No," Es said quickly and flatly. Buffy was relieved, until Es let go of Buffy's hand and pointed at a picture frame on the coffee table. "*That's* the lady from my dream." Buffy looked to where she was pointing, and quickly drew in her breath. It was a picture of her, taken outside the old house in Sunnydale. Her mother had taken the photo, a month or so before graduation. The graduation Buffy had never showed up for. "Um . . ." Buffy was at a total loss for words. What did *this* mean? ////****\\\\ End of Part C ////****\\\\ Flattering feedback is great! Constructive criticism is better! 'Nough said. ~Shadows~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Titanic437@aol.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (2d/?) Date: 02 Jan 1999 16:50:05 EST TITLE: Can't Hide the Past * AUTHOR: Shadows * DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on your own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at Titanic437@aol.com * DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last episode that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then my mind will have it's own play. Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to all of them. Chapter 2: Stupid Xander screws up things for the Scooby Gang, in a majorly weird way. * DISCLAIMER: Ok, I have some stuff to say as to what is not mine and what *is* mine. Rupert Giles: Don't own him. You know who he belongs to. You know who he is. Mr. Harlen: He owns himself. He's my neighbor, and Buffy's fictional neighbor. Such a nice man. Sorry for killing you off, Mr. Harlen. * * * Can't Hide the Past Chapter 2 Part D (Cause stupid AOL won't let me post the whole darn thing in one e- mail!!!) Xander watched as the vaguely familiar stranger open his eyes wide and drop the bags that he was carrying. There was the sound of glass breaking, and then the stranger winced, muttering something about a carousel. Then the man lifted one hand up, reaching out to Xander's face as though he was going to touch him to see if he was real, and then drew his hand back sharply. He backed away, up to the wall, looking at the library setting around him. He looked at the people in the back, and as his eyes settled on Giles all the color drained from his face. A colorful string of swear words erupted from his mouth. Then there was silence. Nobody seemed sure of what to do. Then the man, leaving the bags and much of his sanity behind, walked right up to the computer and peered at the others. Buffy was getting a little nervous, and the way that this man was staring at her was making her more nervous. "Hey," she snapped, "what're you looking at?" Actually . . . besides the fact this man might not even *be* a man, what with him appearing out of thin air, but he was rather good-looking, what with those muscles and that chest and . . . yummy. Even though he was way too old for her. The man blinked, and then tried to get his mouth working again. "What date is this?" he asked, his voice cracking like a teen-agers. Then he cleared his throat and asked a bit more forcefully, "What date is today?" Buffy was still staring/glaring at the man, Willow wasn't the world's greatest speaker, Xander was just joining the, so it was Giles' responsibility to answer. "Um, today is the 21st. Of December," he quickly added. The man rolled his eyes. "I mean, what *year*," he asked. "Year?" Willow's asked, her voice up in the high decibels. "1998," Buffy said quickly, filling him in. "Or, at least, until next week. I think" The man took this information in, looking down at the ground and his eyes growing a bit darker. Then he looked up and saying the following very slowly and very carefully, as though he did not believe that he himself knew what he was saying: "Now, none of you are going to believe this." A pause. "OK, maybe you will, living on the Hellmouth and all." Another beat. "My name is Alexander Harris. I'm 32 years old, and just a few seconds ago, I was walking down the streets of New York, Christmas shopping with my wife. In the year 2013. So if any of have any ideas about how the hell I just went back 15 or so years in time, I'd be open to hearing them." The whole group just stared at him, wide-eyed. Then Giles cleared his throat again. "Xander," he said, staring at the young one. Both turned to look at them, faces drawn tight in fear and confusion. "I'm afraid that you've messed with something quite powerful." "What's new," growled the older Xander, shooting a glare at his younger self. ////****\\\\ End of the very short Part D, and end of Chapter 2 ////****\\\\ Feedback requested. ~Shadows~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: "J. Jericho Born" Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (04/16) Date: 02 Jan 1999 21:04:12 -0800 TITLE: "Flies to Honey" (Part 04/16) AUTHOR: J. Jericho Born E-MAIL: traction@sirius.com FEEDBACK: Please let me know what you think of my fanfic with some feedback. DISTRIBUTION: The author reserves rights on this story. Please do not distribute without expressed permission. RATING: PG Contains violence. SPOILERS: Spoilers to previous fanfic. If you would like to read the preceding story you can download it at < http://www.sirius.com/~traction/buffy >. DESCRIPTION: The sequel to "The Necromancer". DISCLAIMER: The writer of this unauthorized fan fiction is not affiliated with any of the parties involved in the making of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and whomever else the lawyers may deem fit, they are used without permission. Technically that is not legal, but I'm not anticipating any law suits. This work, the plot line, and the characters introduced that are not already featured on Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the work of Joshua Jericho Born, Copyright 1998. ============== Scene 3 Avoiding other students as she went, Buffy turned a hall of Sunnydale High to come upon the school's computer lab. She had not seen her friend Willow at all that day and was starting to get concerned. Her worries were quieted somewhat when she saw the redhead in question diligently hacking away at a keyboard. Interested, Buffy approached. "Hi, I've been looking for you," she said pleasantly. "Hi," blandly replied Willow without even averting her eyes from the computer screen. "What 'ya working on?" casually inquired Buffy. An awkward amount of time passed before Willow spent energy to give a reply. "I've been going over some of Miss Calender's documents and some necromancer books to come up with a way of changing Oz back to human," she replied. "If we ever find him that is," Willow added pessimistically. "Willow!" Buffy said in shock. "I told you we'd find him," reaffirmed Buffy. "Yeah, well, you like to say that, but you're not doing much about it," commented Willow. Buffy was shocked even more. Willow finally looked at Buffy, irritation and contempt showing. "It's just that you haven't done a thing to try and find Oz. All you do with your slaying time lately is guard. . . him," Willow boldly said. Amazed to say the least, Buffy had no idea that this kind of angst had been brewing with her best friend. She looked away and thought for a second or two, cocking her slightly in a hurt, confused gesture. "I know this must be hard for you. I guess I didn't really look at things from your point of view. I'm the Slayer, I've learned to accept it," explained Buffy maturely. Willow looked away and listened to Buffy with her ears, but not her heart. Buffy continued, "Part of the job description is having to slay vampires when you'd rather be out or shopping, or having a life, or even rescuing your friends. Right now every vampire and his mother seem to be flocking to Abel's body, so that's where I have to be." Clicking away with the mouse, Willow saved her work to a floppy disk. She put it in her backpack and got up to leave. "It's nice to see you're so grown up and mature and have all your priorities straight. Don't bother trying to call me tonight, I'm going to be going through. . . his library to find something that can help Oz," said Willow while leaving. "Hey," called out Buffy after her, "If you want I can go with you." Turning, Willow stopped mid stride. She answered sarcastically, "I'll be fine by myself. Abel could use some company anyway." Now alone in the commotion of the computer lab, Buffy's jaw dropped astoundingly. It felt strange to be on bad terms with Willow. Slowly and bitterly, the reality of the conversation that just occurred seeped in. Buffy searched for a silver lining to the bleak cloud that just drifted into her life. Willow finally said Abel's name she realized, but it was little consolation. ============== ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: "J. Jericho Born" Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (05/16) Date: 02 Jan 1999 21:05:24 -0800 TITLE: "Flies to Honey" (Part 05/16) AUTHOR: J. Jericho Born E-MAIL: traction@sirius.com FEEDBACK: Please let me know what you think of my fanfic with some feedback. DISTRIBUTION: The author reserves rights on this story. Please do not distribute without expressed permission. RATING: PG Contains violence. SPOILERS: Spoilers to previous fanfic. If you would like to read the preceding story you can download it at < http://www.sirius.com/~traction/buffy >. DESCRIPTION: The sequel to "The Necromancer". DISCLAIMER: The writer of this unauthorized fan fiction is not affiliated with any of the parties involved in the making of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and whomever else the lawyers may deem fit, they are used without permission. Technically that is not legal, but I'm not anticipating any law suits. This work, the plot line, and the characters introduced that are not already featured on Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the work of Joshua Jericho Born, Copyright 1998. ============== Scene 4 None of Willow's exploits into the dark arts had been as black as her current interest. Necromancy, the study of death itself, had been a lost and forbidden calling even among those who had outcasted themselves from society by practicing witchcraft. In order to find out how to undo what Abel had done to her lost love, however, she must first find out what exactly happend to her beloved. Therefore into the darkness she went. Determined, Willow tread into the underground lair, reassuring herself that her endeavor would not go unrewarded. The air was heavy with the stench of decaying corpses, obtrusively foul and nauseating. The bodies that lay there were once reborn as zombies, ready to toil tirelessly, but when their master fell their puppet life was lost and they returned to their state of worm feeding and maggot breeding. The disgusting scene hit Willow's senses like a wet blanket, but she continued on with cringed face and without hesitation. Stepping over the odd corpse, Willow made her way to an all too familiar room. She looked over where she remembered being strapped down to a table. Thoughts of sheer fright gained here had since been repressed into an abstract memory. Every now and again they would break through and manifest into refound terror, causing Willow to break into a cold sweat and eye the horizon in search of her assaulter. Abel may have looked like a normal, if pallid, young man, but in Willow's mind he stood eight feet tall, had horns, and bore a resemblance to Lucifer. She had thought she could never happen to hate someone so earnestly, but Abel had found the blackest parts of her heart. How dare he use people as if they were lab rats, something to be experimented on without regard for their feelings? The repulsiveness of being one of Abel's guinea pigs was nothing compared to what Willow almost faced: a helpless victim for his sexual amusement. Thank goodness Buffy had stopped him in time to spare Willow's chastity, but, it was too late to prevent him from letting Oz loose as a permanent werewolf. The spot where their enemy had his last conscious thought looked conspicuously plain, devoid of significance. She walked over to an open book. Presumably these were the directions that Abel followed in order to be able to attain the sense of feeling. Written in an archaic, cryptic language, Willow had no use for it. The potions, flasks, and bottles in the far corner of the room caught Willow's attention. She remembered Abel mixing something together, arrogant as he was, and it being needed to turn Oz into a werewolf. Hopeful, Willow herded a couple marked bottles into her backpack. Perhaps she could use these to change Oz back. With this room's helpful potential exhausted, Willow made her way out. She continued down the halls, remembering her way so she could backtrack, until she came upon a room that caught her eye. The desk in the center of the room was covered by a sea of books and documents while an equally impressive cache of materials lay neatly tucked away on a bookshelf. Willow entered, shifting her eyes side to side. To her delight, Willow realized that although the manuscripts were in an unknown language most of Abel's notes were in English. The scribblings ranged from humorous to disturbing. "Typical Maldini, always trying to do things the hard way. He'd write a fifty page step by step description of the technique one can use to locate one's own ass. Much like one's own ass, Kragen Demons are easier to feel for than to search for as he prescribes," one note read. Another note made Willow feel uneasy. Abel had written, "A werewolf! How exciting! It will be good for me to handle one in my research. Also, the girl with the amber hued hair that's with him will suffice for my less studious interests. I can grab them both while their together and kill two birds with one stone." Willow was frustrated at not making any progress. She was leaving when she noticed a few roughly written lines on a small scrap of paper. It read, "From all I can discern, the same procedure outlined in Bhadoven's Anomalous Beastiary for 'curing' a werewolf can be used to make a periodic werewolf more permanent. A few common reagents mixed in equal portions, spread on the subject, and ignited with a focused blast of hellfire should do the trick. I'm rather dissatisfied; it's like playing with a child's toys." Rejoice, that was it! Willow enthusiastically shoved the scrap paper into her pocket. Then a thought hit her, who was she going to get to summon a blast of hellfire? She slumped her shoulders back down, disappointed to say the least. After a few moments thought, she perked back up. It was resolved then, she'd just have to learn the whole hellfire thing herself. ============== ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: "J. Jericho Born" Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (06/16) Date: 02 Jan 1999 21:06:40 -0800 TITLE: "Flies to Honey" (Part 06/16) AUTHOR: J. Jericho Born E-MAIL: traction@sirius.com FEEDBACK: Please let me know what you think of my fanfic with some feedback. DISTRIBUTION: The author reserves rights on this story. Please do not distribute without expressed permission. RATING: PG Contains violence. SPOILERS: Spoilers to previous fanfic. If you would like to read the preceding story you can download it at < http://www.sirius.com/~traction/buffy >. DESCRIPTION: The sequel to "The Necromancer". DISCLAIMER: The writer of this unauthorized fan fiction is not affiliated with any of the parties involved in the making of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and whomever else the lawyers may deem fit, they are used without permission. Technically that is not legal, but I'm not anticipating any law suits. This work, the plot line, and the characters introduced that are not already featured on Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the work of Joshua Jericho Born, Copyright 1998. ============== Scene 5 Standing innocently in the doorway, Buffy lingered outside of Giles' library office. Giles himself had his attentions buried in an particularly interesting read of a book. A few pages went by before Giles finally donned his glasses to look over a sheepish, quiet Slayer. "Oh, Buffy, I hadn't noticed you there. Is something a matter?" questioned Giles. "Well, I don't know how to say this, but I was talking with Willow yesterday," slowly articulated Buffy. "Are things not all well between you and Willow?" Giles inquired softly. "No," quickly replied Buffy with an unsure expression. After some pause she finally admitted, "Yes." Buffy explained, "You see it's just that I've been spending so much time with the slayage around Abel's crypt and Oz is still out there." "Ah, and I suppose you want me to tell you it would be fine for you to neglect your duties and pursue locating Oz with more of your time," guessed Giles. "That'd be perfect," smiled Buffy. "You do realize that this is not only a choice opportunity to slay vampires, but that if a vampire did feed on Abel and consequently killed him that the gateway Abel sealed would be reopened, giving way for more necromancers to come into our world. As your Watcher I can't very well endorse you forsaking your responsibilities," reminded Giles officiously. Buffy dropped her head and remained silent. "As an adult and dare I say father figure, however, I can tell you that there are times in one's life when the welfare of those close to you are many times greater in your heart than responsibilities that one doesn't even want," added Giles gently. Her head now raised, Buffy quizzically glanced at the grin on her Watcher's face. She answered it a small smirk of her own. "Thanks," said Buffy plainly. Giles nodded in awknowledgement, his inner character showing through his simple gesture. ============== ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: DaniLynn27@aol.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Torn (8/?) Date: 03 Jan 1999 19:33:39 EST TITLE: Torn AUTHOR: Danielle Loughlin E-MAIL: DaniLynn27@aol.com DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive. SPOILERS: Through Lover's Walk, one slight reference to Amends RATING: this part, PG, mild language SUMMARY: Willow's caught between Xander and Oz DISCLAIMER: Buffy & Co. is Joss & Co's. No copyright infringement intended. DEDICATION: To all of you who wrote and told me how much you loved this story and for encouraging me to keep writing it. Here's the next part! If you need any earlier parts, let me know, it's not up on my website yet. Torn - Part Eight Willow tiredly pulled back the covers to her bed and crawled under the warm blankets, burrowing deep. She was so tired. Buffy had taken care of Spike's minions and gotten them out of the factory unharmed. Even Buffy was bewildered as to why Spike had wanted her that night, because the master vampire hadn't even given the Slayer a reason. But it must have been something. Willow was too tired to think about it right now. Let Buffy and Giles deal with Spike. Xander, Oz, and Willow hadn't exchanged a word since Buffy had come through the door. They'd silently parted ways, Oz going in one direction, Xander in another, and Buffy and Willow in a third. It was on the walk home that Willow had confessed to Buffy all her crazy, jumbled, mixed-up feelings. Buffy had been totally sympathetic, but of course, she hadn't been able to help Willow make a decision. Willow wished Buffy could just tell her. Xander or Oz. At the rate things were going, she might as well flip a coin for them. She was right back to square one. Xander or Oz. Oz or Xander. Willow groaned into her pillow and rolled over. She couldn't think anymore. She'd worry about it tomorrow . . when she could think more clearly . . . yes . . tomorrow . . . ***** Willow walked into the Bronze. The club was empty, closed. The sound of Willow's footsteps seemed to reach into the far, dusty corners of the converted warehouse. Willow wandered through the maze of tables and chairs. A movement to her right caught her eye. Willow turned, and a single spotlight illuminated the stage. The musical instruments belonging to Dingo Ate My Baby were scattered across the wooden floor, except for one, the guitar. Oz sat on a stool, softly playing the guitar. Willow recognized the melody as the song he'd written for her. Oz looked up, right at Willow. His lips turned into the smile he got whenever he saw Willow. "Hey, baby," he said. "Oz," Willow said, stepping towards the stage. "Don't come closer," Oz told her. "Why not?" Willow asked. "Oz . . I love you! Why can't I come closer?" "You don't love me, Willow," Oz said sadly. The last strains of the song died out and Oz put the guitar down. " But I love you. I'll always love you." "Oz, no! I do love you! I love you so much!" Willow protested. Oz got up and headed offstage. "No, Oz, don't leave!" "I have to," he told her. "No," Willow whimpered. But Oz was gone, vanished into the swirling shadows of the club. Willow was alone again. "Oz?" she cried out. "Where are you?" "I'm here," a voice said. Willow whirled around. Xander was sitting on a loveseat in a small alcove near the bar. "I'll always be here, Willow." "Xander? Where's Oz?" Willow asked him. "Why did he leave me?" "I don't know," Xander told her. "But I'm here. Don't you want me here?" "Of course I want you here. You're my best friend," Willow said. "Oh, really?" Xander asked. "Is that all I am? Your best friend?" "Yes. . no. . I don't know. Xander what's going on?" Willow said in confusion. "You know what's going on, Willow," Xander said cryptically. "You always know." "What do I know?" Willow asked. "Xander, tell me!" "You know. You'll see," Xander said. "I can't tell you, but you'll see." With that last statement Xander started to fade away into the darkness. "Xander! Don't leave me!" Willow cried. "I'll never leave you. . . I love you," Willow heard Xander's voice, but he was no longer there. She was alone. Alone . . alone . . alone. ***** Willow bolted awake. "Xander!" she cried out, not quite realizing what she was doing. The feeling of intense lonliness and abandonment still lingered. Willow took a deep breath. She looked around her room . . she wasn't alone . . she was safe in her room. Her parents were down the hall and her fish were in their tank and her stuffed animals were still surrounding her. She wasn't alone. Slowly, her heart rate returned to normal. Willow lay back down, haunted by her dream. Haunted by the images of Xander and Oz disappearing. Was her subconscious trying to tell her something? That she could be with neither o