From: GILBERTK@MTC.MID.TEC.SC.US
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Synchronicity" (10/11)
Date: 01 Aug 1997 13:54:39 -0400

We're almost done!  Please see Introduction for warnings, etc.  
No infringement of any sort is intended with the following.  Please 
send any comments or requests to: Gilbertk@mtc.mid.tec.sc.us.

                     Synchronicity, Part 10
                      by Katherine Gilbert

  "What exactly are we here to see?" Giles inquired, once they had
returned to the library.
  Sydney studied the room.  "When we were in VR," she said finally,
"those bookcases along the wall weren't there.  The wall itself was
missing."  She pointed up to part of the stacks.
  "Is that significant?" Giles questioned.
  Willow thought for a second.  "Xander, isn't that the area those
workmen were tearing up last year?"
  "What, you're asking me?" Xander replied.  "The first time I set
foot in this place was a few months ago."
  Oliver looked at the wall and then walked up to Willow, looking 
closely at her.  "That was where the construction workers were when
Crater disappeared?"
  "I think so," Willow nodded.
  Oliver exchanged a look with Samantha and then started up the small
set of stairs toward the wall.  "Duncan, help me move these bookcases,"
he instructed.
  Giles looked at them both quickly.  "N-now hold on a minute," he said,
gesturing.  "You can't just go disarranging my whole library."
  "Isn't it *the school's* library?" Buffy asked.
  Giles looked at her with his hands on his hips.  "Well, then, they'll
be thrilled when they find it torn apart, won't they?"
  Oliver and Duncan, with some difficulty, had managed to move one
bookshelf partway.  Oliver stopped before trying to move it further
and looked at Giles.  "We'll undo any damage we cause.  Right now,
however, our best hint of Crater may be back here."  He looked closely
at Giles.  "Do you want to give up a possible clue about the Master's
plans because of an obsession about neatness?"
  Giles didn't look very pleased.  "Very well," he relented, "but be
sure you restore its order before you leave."
  Oliver nodded and returned to moving shelves.
  Giles sighed and looked briefly at Xander.  "Let's go help them,
shall we?" he said, heading toward the stairs.
  The women watched their progress.  Buffy perched herself on a table.
  "Not going to help them?" Sam asked Buffy.
  "Nah," she replied, smiling slightly.  "Let them do the work for
once."
  Once the shelves were moved out, Oliver began to closely examine the
wall.  "The plaster here is newer than the rest of the wall," he 
observed.  He looked at Giles.  "Do you have an axe?"
  Willow laughed.  "Does he ever."
  "Axes, swords, staffs, crossbows, you name it," Buffy agreed.  "Giles
is like your helpful weaponry man."
  "You want to tear out the wall?" Giles asked, incredulously.
  "Do you know of any other way of finding out what's behind it?" Oliver
responded.
  Duncan pondered.  "Know any diviners?" he asked Giles.
  Giles looked at him.  "Not right offhand," he replied, raising an 
eyebrow.
  Oliver rolled his eyes.  "We'll replaster it when we're done."
  Giles relented.  "I'll go find something to get in it," he agreed,
turning to go back down to his weaponry cabinet.
  "I'll get it," Buffy shrugged, hopping off the table.  "Wanna see a 
really cool crossbow?" she turned around to ask Sam.
  "Uh, no, that's alright," Giles broke in, trying to prevent Buffy
from looking too closely anywhere in the direction of his office, the 
direction Buffy had just turned in.  He wasn't sure if Angel was still
around, but he didn't want to take any chances.  "I'll get it."
  "Don't be weird," Buffy replied.  "I know where they are."  As she
turned toward Samantha again, something caught her eye.  "Giles, didn't
you turn the light off in your office when we left?"  She began to
approach the room, weapons forgotten.
  "Buffy, don't," Giles whispered, but Buffy had already reached the
office's door.
  "Angel," she whispered, as she opened it.
  "Buffy."  He gave her a half-smile.
  "What are you doing in here?" she asked him, then turned back to
Giles.
  "Angel is our . . . informant," Giles admitted.
  Buffy looked back at Angel briefly before returning her attention to
Giles.  "You mean I was crawling around in *his* head?  He was in mine?"
  "Yes," Giles replied unhappily.
  Buffy looked at the rest of the group.  "You all knew, didn't you?"
She thought for a second.  "That's what you were hiding from me here
earlier."
  "Don't blame them," Angel told her softly.  "I asked them to."
  Buffy sighed.  She didn't feel particularly angry, although she 
thought she should.  She almost felt that she had been through this 
before.  "So, what'd you learn about us?" Buffy asked Sydney.
  "Nothing much," Sydney lied to them again.  There were some things, 
she decided, which were better not brought into the light of reality.
  "So, how'd you know Crater?" Buffy asked Angel.
  "Could we save this for another time?" Oliver broke in after having
looked at his watch.  "It's getting late, and, assuming you children
actually have parents, they'll probably be worrying about you soon.  We
need to see what's behind this wall."
  "You're right," Giles nodded, going to procure the axe, while Angel
filled Buffy in on his background with Crater.
  "So, did this wall thing they're searching come out of your head?"
Buffy asked, when Angel had finished.
  "I suppose so," Angel replied, looking at the wall.  "I came here once,
after I'd tried to scare Crater off, to see if he'd gone, but they 
were redecorating, and no one was here.  They had that whole side of
the room torn up."  He looked back at Buffy.  "I don't actually remember
anything from that computer trip we got taken on, though."
  Buffy smiled.  "I know how you feel."
  Oliver, who was oblivious to this conversation, tapped on the wall
and listened.  "It's hollow," he noted.
  Giles returned with the axe, and Oliver prepared to attack the wall.
  "Hold on," Buffy said, coming up the stairs toward them.  "It took
you guys, like, 15 minutes to get those shelves out of the way.  Let
me handle this."  She took the axe.
  "You think you can do this more quickly?" Oliver asked.
  "I'm the Slayer, remember?" Buffy replied.  "I eat walls for lunch."
  Oliver shook his head.  He wasn't sure he could ever really get used
to exposing someone this young to the kind of danger and strain Buffy
faced regularly.  He sighed.  "Start around the edges," he instructed,
pointing to the line where the older and newer plaster met.
  "Sure," Buffy shrugged and began chopping.
  Sydney, Sam, and Willow joined the others near the wall.
  "I'll help," Angel said, coming to stand at the opposite end of the 
newer plaster.  He looked at his fist for a second, sighed, and then
punched a hole in the wall.  Willow, Sydney, and Duncan looked 
surprised.  Angel shrugged.  "I'm useful for some things," he noted.
  Between the two of them, Buffy and Angel had the wall down in about
a minute.  
  What was behind it was rather gruesome.  Willow turned away, while 
Sydney looked at the floor; Giles looked horrified.  The rest looked 
sickened.
  "Is that Crater?" Buffy asked, looking at the decaying body stuffed
in the wall.
  "It looks like him," Sam noted.  "As much as I can tell."
  "It's him," Angel nodded.  The others looked at him.  "I've had a
bit of experience with the dead," he shrugged.
  "Why would they do that to him?" Sydney asked, not able to look up.
  "It's very Poe," Duncan noted.  Oliver, Sam, and Buffy looked at
him.  "But I guess it wasn't meant as a macabre literary tribute,"
he cocked his head.
  "Why kill him?" Sam asked.  "Did he fail in reaching the Master?"
  Oliver shook his head.  "Maybe he knew too much?" he theorized.
  Giles, with disgust, held a handkerchief over his face and looked 
more closely at the body.  "It almost looks like a sacrifice of some
kind," he noted.  "But why leave it in the library?"
  Everyone shook their heads.
  "Maybe they figured no one would find it here," Buffy suggested.
  "That doesn't make sense," Oliver contended.  "If the Committee
wants to hide or bury a body, it can do it with far less expense 
and trouble than this."  He motioned toward the wall.
  Willow, who had been studying the opposite side of the library
to avoid turning around, looked over at Giles.  "What are we going
to do about him?" she asked, her back still to the body.  "I mean,
we can't just leave him there."
  Giles looked confused.  "I don't know.  I don't really have much
experience of disposing of bodies."
  "Should we call the police?" Willow continued.
  "No," Oliver answered her quickly.  When she looked over at him,
he explained.  "At best, they'd have a hundred questions we couldn't
possibly answer.  They might suspect us, as well."
  "And at worst?" she asked, incredulously.
  "At worst, they might know the answers already," Oliver continued.
"The Committee has extensive roots."
  "So, we just dig a hole and dump him in?" Buffy grimaced.
  Oliver sighed.  He had never enjoyed this sort of thing.  "No, you
go home . . . We'll take care of it."  He looked back at the body.
  "That's not neccessary," Angel suggested.  He looked at Oliver.
"I'll get rid of him.  I'm in a lot less danger doing it than any of
you would be."
  Everyone else looked at each other.  They couldn't really argue.
  "And you'll take care of the plaster?" Giles asked.
  Angel smiled.  "I'll move the shelves back in front of it.  I'm 
not really much of a mason."
  Giles nodded and tried to fight his desire for order.  As Angel was
doing so much for them, he couldn't see asking him to decorate as well.
  Angel looked at Crater again for a second and then back at Giles.
"Do you think he got to the Master?"
  "I hope not," Giles replied.

  The rest of the group left Angel to his morbid task and emerged into
the night air.  "Would you like a ride back to your motel?" Giles asked.
  "No," Oliver replied.  "It's fairly close.  We can walk."
  "So, you're leaving now?" Willow wondered.
  "There's not much left we can do here," Sydney told her.
  "Crater's dead," Sam continued.
  "The trail's cold," Buffy nodded.
  "Yeah," Sydney agreed.  "And, unless this Master has a phone for us
to dial up, we can't get much more from him."
  "You're probably better off," Giles opined.
  The others nodded.
  Oliver sighed and looked at the ground.  "We appreciate your help," 
he began, "but I'm afraid there might be a price to pay for it."
  "What do you mean?" Willow inquired.
  Oliver looked up at her.  "The Committee's been tracking us.  Sometimes,
they've come into a place where we've been very close behind us."  He
looked at them all.  "All they'll have are rumors and vague reports to go
by.  If they honestly believe that you're ignorant, they'll leave you 
alone to keep from causing a scene.  If they suspect, though, for even a 
single second, that you have some knowledge which could help them, they 
won't hesitate in . . ."  He paused, not wanting to frighten them 
unneccessarily.  " . . . in doing whatever it takes to get that 
information."  He looked deeply at the teenagers.  "You *must* act as 
completely ignorant as possible, if they come."
  "Hey, that's not a problem," Xander assured him.
  Buffy smiled.  "We'll manage."
  "Yeah," Willow threw in, "clueless we can do."
  "Good," Oliver nodded.  He allowed the teenagers to say goodbye to
their new friends, while he motioned with his eyes to have a private
word with Giles.  When they were a bit away, he said, "You'll probably
have the hardest time.  You'll *have* to convince them not only that
you don't know me but that you *aren't* me."
  Giles nodded.  "I'll handle it."  He smiled slightly.
  Oliver smiled slightly as well and held out his hand.  "Goodbye,
Rupert."  He shook Giles' hand and then looked over at the teenagers.
"Look after them."  He assessed the group for a second.  "They care
a great deal about you, you know."
  Giles smiled and looked over at Oliver's companions.  "As yours
do for you," he agreed.
  The teenagers began to part from their friends and walked toward
Giles' car.
  Oliver and Giles gave each other one final, assessing look, nodded,
and left with their respective friends.
[End of Part 10]



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: GILBERTK@MTC.MID.TEC.SC.US
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Synchronicity" (11a/11)
Date: 01 Aug 1997 13:58:33 -0400

Please see Introduction for warnings, etc.  No infringement of
any sort is intended with the following.  Please send any 
comments or requests to:  Gilbertk@mtc.mid.tec.sc.us.  Please 
note, as well, that I'll be out of town for a couple of weeks
after Monday, so, if you write, and I don't respond, that's why.

                   Synchronicity, Part 11a
                     by Katherine Gilbert

  The next day at school, Buffy was dumping some books in her locker,
preparing to go home, when Xander caught up with her.
  "Hey," he said, running his hand through his hair to block his face
from a portion of the hallway.  "Have you checked out the new, uh,
students?"  He motioned down the hall with his eyes.
  "You mean the suit patrol?" Buffy asked, pretending to be concerned
with which books to take home.  "Yeah, . . . they seem familiar."
  "Do you think it's *them*?" Xander pressed, a bit nervous.
  "Probably," Buffy agreed, "but--don't they look familiar?"  She
held up a mirror as though she were examining her reflection but
angled it instead to give Xander a view of the men lurking at the
other end of the hall.  The corridor was beginning to clear out, as
students packed up and went home.
  "Cordelia's `bodyguards'?" he pondered.  "The ones who led away
Marcie?"
  "Looks like their friends, at least," Buffy half-smiled, returning
the mirror to her locker.
  "Is there anything these guys *aren't* into?" Xander questioned.
  "World peace?" Buffy shrugged, as one of the men began to approach
them.  She sighed.  "Here goes," she whispered.
  "May I have a word with you?" the man in the suit asked them.
  Buffy turned around.  She was sucking on a lollipop she had just
pulled out.  "Oh God--you're not another guidance counselor, are you?"
she asked in a confused tone.
  "No," the man smiled.
  "This isn't about that library book I've had overdue for a couple
of months, is it?" Xander looked startled.  "Because, if it is, I can
take it back."
  "I just want to ask you a few questions," the man smiled at them, not
very reassuringly.
  "Okay," Buffy shrugged.
  The man took out pictures of Sydney, Samantha, Oliver, and Duncan.
"Have you seen any of these people before?"
  Xander and Buffy looked bemused.  "Nope," Xander said.
  "Uh uh," Buffy concurred.
  "You've never seen them around here?" the man asked.
  "What--are they, like, teachers or something?" Xander inquired.
  "No," the man answered.
  "Well, they aren't students," Buffy observed.  "I mean," she pointed
her lollipop at the picture of Oliver, "this guy's ancient."  She
looked at the other pictures.  "And they aren't exactly prom queen
material either."  Her lollipop grazed the pictures, as she pointed at
them, leaving a sticky residue.  "Oops, sorry," Buffy said sheepishly.
  The man was beginning to become a bit annoyed.  He singled out the
picture of Oliver and thrust it at them.  "And this man doesn't look
familiar to you?"
  Buffy and Xander stared at it blankly.
  "He doesn't remind you of Mr. Giles?" the man inquired, raising an
eyebrow.
  "Who?" Buffy asked.
  "You know," Xander threw in, "the librarian."
  "The creepy guy with the books?" Buffy wondered.
  The man in the suit sighed.
  "I think," Xander nodded.  He looked back at the man.  "Unless you
mean that weird physics teacher who got fired for building his own
prototype nuclear bomb."
  "What?" the man asked, getting confused himself.  "No--the librarian
--does he look like the librarian to you?"
  Buffy looked at the picture again and started pointing at it with
her lollipop.  The man drew it out of the candy's reach.  "I guess he
looks a bit like him," Buffy agreed, "but this guy," she was pointing
at the picture the besuited man was holding well away from her, 
"actually knows how to dress.  That creepy guy," she pointed down the
hall with her lollipop, and, seemingly obliviously, almost hit Xander
in the head with it, "well, his fashion sense is from, like, another
century."
  Xander nodded.
  The man was growing increasingly frustrated.  "So, you've never seen
these people before?"
  Buffy and Xander shook their heads.
  The man tried a new technique.  "What do you know about computers?"
  "I can turn one on pretty well," Xander said proudly.
  The man shook his head and looked at Buffy.  "And you?"
  She pondered, sucking her lollipop.  "I might be able to, if you
showed me where the switch was," she said finally, waving her candy
carelessly.
  The man sighed.  "Aren't you curious why I'm asking you these things?"
he asked them, exasperated.
  "Why?  Are we in trouble?" Xander questioned, worriedly.
  "Is there gonna be, like, a quiz or something?" Buffy asked.  "`Cause,
if so, I want to see the pictures again."  She pointed her candy at the 
man's chest and watched it stick to his suit.  "Oops," she said, 
unsticking it. "Sorry."
  The man made a noise under his breath which sounded a bit like 
"grr-arrgh" and abandoned the two annoying teenagers.
  Buffy smiled just slightly, as the man left, and whispered, "Slayer
and slayerettes--87, Committee goons--0."

  Around the same time that Buffy and Xander were being questioned,
Willow was tucked away in the computer lab, searching a couple of
supernatural web pages for Giles.
  "Pardon me," a man's voice said from behind her, "are you Miss Willow
Rosenberg?"
  Willow jumped slightly and turned around.  "Uh, yes," she admitted.
  "I'd like to have a word with you," a man in a suit, a different 
one than Buffy and Xander had encountered, said, as he sat in a chair
he had pulled up close to her.
  "Uh, okay," she said.  "Is something wrong?  Is somebody hurt or
something?"
  "It's nothing like that," he assured her.
  "Am I in trouble?" she asked.  "I mean, if it's about the computer
changing the lunch schedules around last week, I can explain that."
  The man smiled.  "No," he said.  "I simply need information."  He
took out four pictures--the same shots her friends had been shown.
"Do you recognize these people?"
  "No," she said, looking over the pictures but lingering on Oliver's.
  "Even this one?" the man pointed to the picture she was staring at.
"He doesn't remind you of anyone?"
  "Well, he looks a bit like our librarian," Willow pondered.  "Wait
a minute," she looked up at the man brightly.  "Are you one of those
researchers from shows where they reunite long-lost families or 
something?"
  "No," the man shook his head.  He held up Oliver's picture.  "Do 
you think this could be the librarian--in a different outfit, perhaps?"
  Willow shook her head.  "No," she pondered.  "The eyes are wrong."
  "They're the same color, aren't they?" the man looked back at the 
picture himself, suddenly confused.
  "Yeah, but they aren't the same eyes," Willow explained.  "I mean,
does that guy," she pointed at the picture, "look like he'd spend a 
lot of time hanging out in libraries?"
  The man in the suit shook his head, still examining the picture.
"Not really," he agreed.  He looked up again--over at Willow's computer.
"What are you working on?" he asked.
  "Oh," Willow looked very excited but a little embarrassed.  "I'm 
doing research for this horror novel I want to write.  It's got all
these monsters and stuff."
  "So, you've met up with monsters before?" the man asked her, curiously.
  "You mean, other than the weird women from the cafeteria?" she 
answered.  "No."  She shook her head.
  The man in the suit leaned forward.  "Don't you think they could be
real?" 
  Willow rolled her eyes.  "Please," she said, "if they were real, we'd
know about them by now, right?  We wouldn't need to read about them."
She was looking at him as though he were slightly insane.
  At that point, a message appeared on her screen, indicating new mail.
  "Can I see your email?" the man smiled at her.
  "Why do you want to?" she asked.
  "Just curious," he answered.
  Willow shook her head.  "It'll all be pretty dull to you."
  The man's smile widened.  "Indulge me."
  Willow shrugged.  She opened up the letter to reveal a lengthy chat
about "that cute boy in geometry."  The man's eyes began to glaze.  "Do
you want to see any others?" Willow asked.
  "No, that's fine," the man agreed, sighing and getting up.  "Thank
you for your time," he said, before he left.
  Willow smiled and turned back to the computer.  She looked again at
the rambling letter and then began deleting everything except the first
letter of every third word.  When she had finished, she smiled at the 
screen:
    W--
        Thanks.  Away safely.
               Take care, :D
                    S. B.
[End of Part 11a; 11b (the final part) is coming!]



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: GILBERTK@MTC.MID.TEC.SC.US
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Synchronicity" (11b/11)
Date: 01 Aug 1997 14:00:38 -0400

The final part!  Please see Introduction for warnings, etc.  
No infringement of any sort is intended with the following.  
Please send any comments to:  Gilbertk@mtc.mid.tec.sc.us.  If 
this part seems to have a rather downbeat ending, as well, 
remember that it ends just a few hours before the events of 
"Prophecy Girl" begin, so everything works out in the end. :)

                   Synchronicity, Part 11b
                     by Katherine Gilbert

  At around this same time, Giles was reshelving a few books, when two
men in suits came into the library.  "May I help you?" Giles asked
inoffensively.
  The two men looked at each other, used a bar one of them was carrying
to bar the doors, and then came up to Giles.  One of them put a gun to
his head.  "Is this what your life has become, Sampson?" one of them
asked.  "Shelving books for high schoolers?"
  Giles closed his eyes tightly and tried to breathe.  He didn't have
to fake his fear.
  "Does lack of courage go with this position?" the other man asked.
"Lose your nerve on the road?"
  "Please," Giles said softly.  "If you want my money, you can have it."
  The men looked at each other, a little confused.  "What?" one asked.
  "I said, `if you want my money, you can have it,'" Giles repeated.
  The men exchanged another look before one of them instructed, "Open
your eyes, Sampson."
  Giles did so, reluctantly.  "May I ask a question?" he said quietly.
  "Alright," one agreed.
  "W-why are you callilng me `Sampson'?" he inquired.
  "That's your name," one informed him.
  "N-no," Giles disagreed.
  The man holding the gun cocked the hammer.
  "O-of course, if you'd rather I be called Sampson, I'll do my best,"
Giles stammered quickly.  "Just *please* tell me what you want."
  The men exchanged looks once more, and then the man with the guy 
uncocked it and took it down, although he didn't put it away.  "Sit
down," he instructed.  Giles did.
  "Let me see your wallet," the other man ordered.
  Giles, shaking slightly, retrieved his wallet and gave it to him.
  The man looked through it.  "Where are your passport and visa?"
  "I-is that what this is about?" Giles asked.  "They're in order, I
assure you."  He looked at the two men.  "I didn't realize I was 
supposed to come show them to immigration on a regular basis."
  The men rolled their eyes at each other, and then the man threw 
Giles' wallet back to him.  Giles fumbled and dropped it before picking
it up and returning it to his pocket.
  One of the men got another idea.  He took out a gun, unloaded the
cartridges, and handed it to Giles.  "Shoot it," he said.
  Giles was holding the gun as though it were a dead rat.  "I might
hurt someone!" Giles objected, looking up at the man.
  "I took the bullets out," the man replied disgustedly.
  "Oh," Giles said, looking at the weapon again.  Then, he examined
the gun and tried, very awkwardly, to aim it.  When he tried to pull
the trigger, nothing happened.
  The man who had given him the gun sighed loudly.  "You have to take
the safety off first," he informed him.
  "The what?" Giles inquired, looking at him.
  The man shook his head and grabbed back the gun.  "Never mind."
  The first man put away his gun as well and then pulled out four
pictures.  "Do you know any of these people?"
  Giles shook his head but took the picture of Oliver to look at it
more closely.  "What a terrible hairstyle," he noted.  "Appalling
taste in clothes, as well."  He looked up at the two men.  "I've
never dressed like this," he informed them.
  "Obviously," one said, retrieving the picture from him, deciding 
that Giles had a curious definition of "appalling."
  "What do you know about computers?" the other asked.
  "What--that dread machine over there?" Giles pointed.  "I refuse to
touch them."
  The two men looked at each other again.  "Go turn it on," one said
menacingly.
  Giles got up and went over to it.  After looking around it tentatively,
he looked up and said, "All I see is a switch with a line on one side and 
an `O' on the other."
  "Try it," one of the men suggested disgustedly.
  Giles did, timidly.  It made a noise.  He pressed a letter key.  
"Nothing seems to be happening."
  "Try turning on the screen," one suggested.
  Giles looked at him, genuinely confused.  "That isn't what I just 
did?"
  The men in suits looked at each other, shook their heads, and turned
toward the door.  "By the way," one said, turning back toward Giles,
"we were never here."
  Giles swallowed.  "Whatever you say."
  The men removed the bar from the door and left.
  Giles sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a second.  Then, slightly
pleased with himself for getting rid of the men but still trying to
regain his composure, he walked slowly to his office and made himself
a cup of tea.  He had had the Codex for two days now, without yet 
getting a chance to study it.  "Maybe now," he thought, "things will
slow down enough to let me examine it."

EPILOGUE
  Later that same day, one of the men in suits worked his way down 
into the tunnels underneath Sunnydale.
  "He's here," a little boy's voice echoed eeriely, as the Committee
man entered the Master's lair.
  "What news do you have for me?" the Master asked.
  "We thought we had a problem--that some . . . renegade members might
be warning the townspeople," the Committee man said, "but it was a 
false alarm."
  "So, they're still unaware of our plan?" the Master inquired.
  "The library has been cleansed for your arrival with a sacrifice--
one of our own," the Committee man smiled.
  "Good," the Master smiled in return and rubbed his hands.  "My rise
to the surface is fast approaching."
  The Committee man looked at the little boy, who was sitting on a 
pile of rubble, watching him.  "So, how is the Anointed One doing?"
  The Master smiled back at the child.  "Colin was an excellent choice,"
he observed.  "You were right--the Committee bloodline was just what
was needed."  The Master looked back at the man.  "Did his mother ever
wonder why they came here?"
  The Committee man shook his head.  "Her company transferred her; 
that's all she needed to know."
  "I assume that you're satisfied with our service so far?" the Master
smiled at the man.
  "Your . . . converts have served admirably," the man agreed.  "Along
with some . . . less visible assassins we've added of late, yours have 
been very successful.  Did Colin `convert' the men I sent earlier?"
  "Yes," the Master agreed.  "They've gone out for their first hunt."
  "Our groups work well together," the Committee man observed, looking
over at Colin, who smiled malevolently.
  "Then, I will see you again when I rise," the Master agreed, turning
back to return to his chair.
  The Committee man almost turned to go but looked back again.  "By
the way, I've always wanted to ask.  Just what is that leather you wear
made out of?"
  The Master smiled back at him.  "Well," he responded, "I don't wear
cow."
  The Committee man smiled and then left The Master to wait for the 
prophecy to take hold.
[The End]



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: koch@northnet.org
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Slayer Fanfic Archive UP!
Date: 01 Aug 1997 19:17:47 -0400

Hey all, just heard from Biohaz, one of the Archive's maintainers.  It ha
risen from the dead!  Let the Archive be live once more!
MWA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

--Viashino, Feelin' Maniacal--
"Ewwwwwwww!!"




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: koch@northnet.org
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Weapon: Part VII/?
Date: 03 Aug 1997 22:45:50 -0400

Title:  The Weapon
Rating:  PG-13 here.  In the words of Carl "Oldie" Olsen, "Violence!
Glorious violence!"  Some language to.
Disclaimer:  Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Angel are the property of Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox.  The rest is mine.  Touch it
and I'll break yo' fingers.
*****

"NO!!!" screamed Angel, as Buffy vanished.
"Oh shit," said Xander, as Angel raged, "that was Hound!"
"A what?" Willow asked, as her anger began to bubble.
"The Hounds are Karakis' hunters and guard beasts!  If we ran into one of
them, he knows we're here."
"Oh gre-" Willow was cut off by a deep growl.  Willow and Xander turned to
see Angel, and watched as his features twisted, changing into the horrible
visage of a vampire.  Throwing his head back, Angel unleashed a deafening
primal roar, sharing his rage with the universe.  Then, with uncanny speed
and grace, he leapt, and plunged beneath the sands.
"What's he doing?!" shrieked Willow.
"What he always does," replied Xander, "he's following Buffy."
"Shouldn't we do the same?"
"I plan on it.  Stand back!"

Willow stepped away as Xander pointed the sphere at the ground.  He paused,
inhaling deeply.

"GIVE US PASSAGE TO THE SLAYER!" he shouted.  Acknowledging its other's
command, the sphere began to glow.  The glow spread over Xander, until his
entire body was encased in a green luminescence.  Then, suddenly,
violently, the glow shot through the sphere and was released as a massive
energy pulse, blasting into the sand.  Xander collapsed to his knees,
nearly tumbling into the searing hole he had created.
"Xander!" shouted Willow, rushing to his side, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah..." he gasped, "just... took... a lot... outta me."
"What did you..."
"The sphere blasted us a passage." said Xander, as he caught his breath,
"C'mon, lets go."

*****

As Xander and Willow exited the tunnel, they came face to face with a scene
out of a nightmare.

A massive white creature, one which seemed to be nothing more than a mass
of tentacles and a huge, gaping, maw, was trying to eat Buffy.  The Slayer
was surviving only by keeping the creature's jaw open with her legs.  Angel
attacked the creature again and again with his sword, again and again it
lashed out a tentacle, slamming him into the walls or floor of the cave.
The vampire rose after each attack, ignoring his injuries.  The creature
slammed Angel into the wall once more.  He rose, snapped his shoulder back
into place with a sickeningly wet crack, and attacked once more.

"SAVE HER!" shouted Xander, as he charged, holding the sphere in front of
him.  Instantly, a mass of silver tendrils leapt from the sphere, attacking
the creature.  The liquid metal sliced and hacked away, fighting off the
creature's many tentacles.  Finally, it fought its way through to the
tentacle holding the Slayer.  Changing from a mass of tendrils to two large
razor-sharp extensions, the sphere quickly severed the limb, and Buffy
leapt away.

"Blades." said Xander, as the creature howled in pain.  The sphere returned
to its natural shape, then split, coating each of Xander's arms with its
liquid metal essence.  The liquid quickly hardened and shaped, forming
wickedly sharp blades over his appendages.  He watched as a new tentacle
sprung to life in the place of the lost one.  Silently, grimly, Xander
attacked.

"You OK?" growled Angel, as he helped Buffy off the floor.
"Fine," she panted, "you?"
"Fine."
"Good.  Then we'd better help Xander."
Angel silently nodded his agreement, and they attacked.

The three hacked and sliced away at the creature, but each severed limb was
replaced by another.  Soon blood, monster, vampire, and human, covered all
four combatants.  They battled on, hopeful they would find some weakness,
some path to victory.

During the battle, Willow stayed back, watching, looking for some weak
spot, something they could use against that... that *thing*.  Then she saw.
 It only lasted a moment but it was enough.  The creature blinked.  It
blinked, its single tough, leathery eyelid unveiling a mass of slimy
eyeballs.  Acting on instinct alone, she lined up her shot, and fired.  The
creature screamed in agony as hundreds of sensitive eyeballs burst,
spraying blood and other fluids everywhere.  Willow walked forward, pumped
the shotgun, and fired again.  And again.  And again and again and again.
The creature lowered its guard, writhing in agony as more and more eyeballs
exploded.  Taking advantage of the opening, Buffy, Xander, and Angel
charged, and began slicing hunks of the thing's corpulent spheroid body
away.  Drawing strength from the sphere, Xander thrust forward, driving his
blades deep into the creature's brain, forcing his arms into the creature
all the way up to his shoulders.  Green lightning shot through Xander's
body as the Hound's lifeforce was drained through the sphere.  Several
violent seconds later, the creature released its death howl, and crumbled
to dust.

*****

"Wow," said Buffy, as she wiped some of the gore off her body, "good
shootin' Will!"
Willow simply nodded, a grim expression fixed on her visage.
"So," asked Angel, "what do we do now?"
"We should rest here for a while," replied Xander, "heal.  Then, once we're
ready, we follow these caves and tunnels.  With the sphere guiding us, they
should take us right to Karakis Central."
"Oh good," said Buffy tiredly, as she slumped against the cave wall, "out
of the frying pan--and straight into hell."

*****

The end is near
My friends my friends,
But the tale is not yet through.
The battle nears,
My friends my friends,
We shall see what the slay squad can do!

MWA-HAHA-HAHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

--Viashino the Maniacally Evil--




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: koch@northnet.org
Subject: BUFFYFIC: The Weapon: Part VII/?
Date: 04 Aug 1997 02:45:50 -0400

Title:  The Weapon
Rating:  PG-13 here.  In the words of Carl "Oldie" Olsen, "Violence!
Glorious violence!"  Some language to.
Disclaimer:  Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Angel are the property of Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox.  The rest is mine.  Touch it
and I'll break yo' fingers.
*****

"NO!!!" screamed Angel, as Buffy vanished.
"Oh shit," said Xander, as Angel raged, "that was Hound!"
"A what?" Willow asked, as her anger began to bubble.
"The Hounds are Karakis' hunters and guard beasts!  If we ran into one of
them, he knows we're here."
"Oh gre-" Willow was cut off by a deep growl.  Willow and Xander turned to
see Angel, and watched as his features twisted, changing into the horrible
visage of a vampire.  Throwing his head back, Angel unleashed a deafening
primal roar, sharing his rage with the universe.  Then, with uncanny speed
and grace, he leapt, and plunged beneath the sands.
"What's he doing?!" shrieked Willow.
"What he always does," replied Xander, "he's following Buffy."
"Shouldn't we do the same?"
"I plan on it.  Stand back!"

Willow stepped away as Xander pointed the sphere at the ground.  He paused,
inhaling deeply.

"GIVE US PASSAGE TO THE SLAYER!" he shouted.  Acknowledging its other's
command, the sphere began to glow.  The glow spread over Xander, until his
entire body was encased in a green luminescence.  Then, suddenly,
violently, the glow shot through the sphere and was released as a massive
energy pulse, blasting into the sand.  Xander collapsed to his knees,
nearly tumbling into the searing hole he had created.
"Xander!" shouted Willow, rushing to his side, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah..." he gasped, "just... took... a lot... outta me."
"What did you..."
"The sphere blasted us a passage." said Xander, as he caught his breath,
"C'mon, lets go."

*****

As Xander and Willow exited the tunnel, they came face to face with a scene
out of a nightmare.

A massive white creature, one which seemed to be nothing more than a mass
of tentacles and a huge, gaping, maw, was trying to eat Buffy.  The Slayer
was surviving only by keeping the creature's jaw open with her legs.  Angel
attacked the creature again and again with his sword, again and again it
lashed out a tentacle, slamming him into the walls or floor of the cave.
The vampire rose after each attack, ignoring his injuries.  The creature
slammed Angel into the wall once more.  He rose, snapped his shoulder back
into place with a sickeningly wet crack, and attacked once more.

"SAVE HER!" shouted Xander, as he charged, holding the sphere in front of
him.  Instantly, a mass of silver tendrils leapt from the sphere, attacking
the creature.  The liquid metal sliced and hacked away, fighting off the
creature's many tentacles.  Finally, it fought its way through to the
tentacle holding the Slayer.  Changing from a mass of tendrils to two large
razor-sharp extensions, the sphere quickly severed the limb, and Buffy
leapt away.

"Blades." said Xander, as the creature howled in pain.  The sphere returned
to its natural shape, then split, coating each of Xander's arms with its
liquid metal essence.  The liquid quickly hardened and shaped, forming
wickedly sharp blades over his appendages.  He watched as a new tentacle
sprung to life in the place of the lost one.  Silently, grimly, Xander
attacked.

"You OK?" growled Angel, as he helped Buffy off the floor.
"Fine," she panted, "you?"
"Fine."
"Good.  Then we'd better help Xander."
Angel silently nodded his agreement, and they attacked.

The three hacked and sliced away at the creature, but each severed limb was
replaced by another.  Soon blood, monster, vampire, and human, covered all
four combatants.  They battled on, hopeful they would find some weakness,
some path to victory.

During the battle, Willow stayed back, watching, looking for some weak
spot, something they could use against that... that *thing*.  Then she saw.
 It only lasted a moment but it was enough.  The creature blinked.  It
blinked, its single tough, leathery eyelid unveiling a mass of slimy
eyeballs.  Acting on instinct alone, she lined up her shot, and fired.  The
creature screamed in agony as hundreds of sensitive eyeballs burst,
spraying blood and other fluids everywhere.  Willow walked forward, pumped
the shotgun, and fired again.  And again.  And again and again and again.
The creature lowered its guard, writhing in agony as more and more eyeballs
exploded.  Taking advantage of the opening, Buffy, Xander, and Angel
charged, and began slicing hunks of the thing's corpulent spheroid body
away.  Drawing strength from the sphere, Xander thrust forward, driving his
blades deep into the creature's brain, forcing his arms into the creature
all the way up to his shoulders.  Green lightning shot through Xander's
body as the Hound's lifeforce was drained through the sphere.  Several
violent seconds later, the creature released its death howl, and crumbled
to dust.

*****

"Wow," said Buffy, as she wiped some of the gore off her body, "good
shootin' Will!"
Willow simply nodded, a grim expression fixed on her visage.
"So," asked Angel, "what do we do now?"
"We should rest here for a while," replied Xander, "heal.  Then, once we're
ready, we follow these caves and tunnels.  With the sphere guiding us, they
should take us right to Karakis Central."
"Oh good," said Buffy tiredly, as she slumped against the cave wall, "out
of the frying pan--and straight into hell."

*****

The end is near
My friends my friends,
But the tale is not yet through.
The battle nears,
My friends my friends,
We shall see what the slay squad can do!

MWA-HAHA-HAHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

--Viashino the Maniacally Evil--




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: GILBERTK@MTC.MID.TEC.SC.US
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Mailer problems
Date: 04 Aug 1997 11:05:46 -0400

Sorry to post this here, but our server went down over the
weekend and lost all of our mail.  If anyone sent me anything,
therefore, since early Friday, could you please resend it?
Also, if another digest has come out during this time, is 
there anyway for me to get a copy?

Whining,
Katherine Gilbert



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: dalton.spence@hwcn.org
Subject: BUFFYFIC: Secret World of Willow (00/?)
Date: 04 Aug 1997 16:18:14 -0400 (EDT)

This is my first attempt at a Buffy fanfic, so please be kind. (The
response from the folks on the buffy-beta list gave me the courage
to post it here.) It's a crossover with show about another teenage
girl with a big secret and special powers, "The Secret World of Alex
Mack." If you have never heard of it, you might want to look for
"The Secret World of Alex Mack Unofficial WWW Page" by Zack Bennett
at <http://www.hotcc.com/users/bennettd/alexmack/> (if it's still
there) for an explanation of the series. I hope you like it.

                         *   *   *   *   *

TITLE: The Secret World of Willow Rosenberg
AUTHOR: Dalton S. Spence
EMAIL ADDRESS: <dalton.spence@hwcn.org>
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: This story cannot be sold or used for profit
    in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use
    only or posted in fanfic archives for general distribution, but
    must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.
SPOILER WARNING: Occurs after "Prophecy Girl"
RATING: PG13
CONTENT WARNING: This story depicts scenes of violence and/or their
    aftermath. If depictions of this nature disturb you, you may
    wish to read something other than this story.
CLASSIFICATION: C - Crossover with "The Secret World of Alex Mack"
SUMMARY: The new girl at Sunnydale has a weird secret all her own -
    one that Willow will soon share.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Giles, the Slayerettes and all other characters
    who have appeared in the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"
    together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole
    copyright property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., Kuzui
    Enterprises, Sandollar Television, 20th Century Fox Television
    and the Warner Brothers Television Network. Alex Mack, her
    family, Danielle Atron and all other characters who have
    appeared in the series "The Secret World of Alex Mack" together
    with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright
    property of Viacom International, MTV Networks, Nickelodeon
    Television Network, Nickelodeon Productions, Hallmark
    Entertainment, and Lynch Entertainment. No copyright
    infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction.
    All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are
    the sole property of the author. I'm too broke to be sued,
    anyway. (But if anybody thinks my literary skill presents that
    much a risk, feel free to *HIRE* me!)

                         *   *   *   *   *

                The Secret World of Willow Rosenberg
                      (a BtVS/SWAM crossover)
            by Dalton S. Spence <dalton.spence@hwcn.org>

         "I guess I'm not so ordinary anymore." - Alex Mack

*Prologue*

The security system of Paradise Valley Chemical's new Sunnydale
research facility was state of the art, designed to prevent any
unauthorized personnel from slipping into the laboratories unnoticed
and escaping with company secrets. This included an array of special
electromagnetic and chemical sensors designed to detect the unusual
characteristics of one particular intruder, who had been a thorn in
the company's side for the last few years. But every security system
has its weak spot, and this one was no exception.

About twenty feet north of the main lab complex was a small building
used to store various materials and equipment not immediately needed
for the experiments being conducted next door. Since no records were
kept there it was considered a low-security area, and the usual
precautions of regular outside patrols, video surveillance and
electronic door locks were considered sufficient. In theory, anyone
trying to sneak in would be spotted and challenged.

Nobody thought about the sewers.

                         *   *   *   *   *

The quiet of the deserted building was shattered as a manhole cover
went flying through the air to smash into the main electrical panel,
knocking out all the lights and alarms and automatically locking all
the doors. The guard in the security office immediately called for
backup, silently cursing the fact his partner had just stepped
outside for a smoke. No one would getting in or out through the
doors until the power was restored, so he was on his own against one
or more intruders of unknown nature or intent. Rather than confront
them, he chose to remain where he was until help arrived, a wise
decision that undoubtedly saved his life.

Unseen, two silent figures in tattered filthy clothes quickly
scrambled out of the hole, then turned to help a third female figure
emerge. Her feet had not quite cleared the edge when a beam of light
illuminated her back, and she spasmed as a crossbow bolt from below
ripped through her heart, turning her to dust in her friend's arms.
The two remaining vampires (for that's what they were) quickly
recovered, and split up to hide from their pursuers in the maze of
wooden equipment crates and steel chemical drums.

There was brief pause, then a blond teenage girl holding a crossbow
with a large flashlight attached emerged from below, and carefully
scanned the area for any signs of movement. She was followed by
another girl with long red hair holding a large high pressure water
rifle filled with holy water, and a dark haired young man carrying a
large silver cross and satchel filled with wooden stakes.

"Well, this is fun," murmured Xander as looked at the stacks and
shelves of goods with disgust. "Did I ever tell you how much I
loathed hide and seek as a kid?"

Buffy smiled slightly at her friends. Usually, she handled this sort
of thing by herself, but this time her friends refused to let her go
alone. "You're the ones who wanted to come slaying with me," she
reminded him. "If you wanted fun, you should have gone to the mall."

Willow's response was unusually grim for her. "It stopped being fun
when they decided to attack our families. Now, it's personal." She
had seen a lot of things, and lost a lot of friends, but when they
had put her mother in the hospital, something had snapped. Before,
she had been mostly scared; now, she was just angry. This was a
Willow none of them had ever seen before, and the transformation
scared Xander almost as much as the vampires did.

Remembering how she had felt when *her* mother had been attacked,
Buffy just nodded, then motioned to the others to spread out. Buffy
took the point, with her friends each taking one side of the wide
aisle, making sure they kept each other in sight at all times. Even
so, one of the vampires managed to surprise them, jumping off the
top level of shelves and knocking Buffy down before she could get
off a shot. Moving to finish off the stunned Slayer, he was stopped
in his tracks by an excruciating burning sensation in the middle of
his back. He quickly turned, only to get a face full of holy water
from an enraged Willow. His howl of pain ended abruptly as the
recovering Buffy thrust a stake though his heart.

The first hint Xander had that the remaining vampire had managed to
sneak up behind him during the commotion was his short but painful
flight across the aisle. As Buffy snatched up her fallen crossbow to
dispatch their last enemy, Willow noticed that Xander's impact had
dislodged the topmost of a tall stack of steel barrels, which was
now plummeting towards his head. With a flying tackle that would
have been the envy of anyone on Sunnydale High's football team,
Willow knocked Xander behind a wooden crate just as the barrel
smashed at her feet, drenching her in a strange golden chemical.

As Xander struggled to his feet dazed from the impacts, Buffy rushed
over to her friends. "Willow, are you alright?" she asked anxiously.

Willow, still shaken from her close call, nodded slowly. "I guess
so, depending on what this stuff is," she added.

Xander stumbled over to the remains of the barrel. "It says GC-161,
whatever that means," he said, then moved the wreckage with his foot
to get a better view. His mouth tightened into a grim line. "There's
a bio-hazard symbol." He quickly picked up Willow's dropped water
gun, and ignoring her protests proceeded to wash her down. However,
Willow had already used most of the gun's "ammo," so he only managed
a few squirts before he ran dry.

Just then they heard a small explosion, and the sound of the large
loading dock door on the other side of the building being rolled up.
Not wanting to answer a lot of questions, they scrambled back down
the manhole, leaving behind three piles of ashes, a broken steel
drum, and a wooden stake that fallen from Xander's bag. None of them
noticed the shapeless silvery mass that slid out from behind some
crates to follow them.

                         *   *   *   *   *
                         <end of prologue>

What do think?
--
          +-------------------------------------------------+
          | Dalton S. Spence, B.Sc. <dalton.spence@hwcn.org>|
          | Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/home.html |
          +-------------------------------------------------+



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: VQRW76A@prodigy.com (MS CHRISTINA L KAMNIKAR)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Mad Moon in Scorpio" (1/6)
Date: 04 Aug 1997 22:58:27, -0500

This has already been posted to the Sunnydale Slayers list; and it's going
to be posted on the SunS page.  Buffy, Ms. Calender, the Slayerettes and
most of Sunnydale belong to their creator Joss Whedon, who I am imitating
in the most sincere and profound admiration, without any hope for financial
gain.... although I sure won't turn it down, if Joss feels like paying me!
WB, Sandstone, 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy have some rights in here somewhere.

Major thank-you-kindly's to my betareaders: Lizbet, Perri and Dianne, who
kept the grammar straight and went "hunh?" when I vagued things up.

Comments welcomed with enthusiasm!      -       CLK

"Mad Moon in Scorpio"
by Christina Kamnikar
copyright 1997

        *       >       1       ~       {}      @

        I knew the situation had gotten seriously weird when the first
thing to happen that morning was my computer crashing during my on-line
Tarot reading.

        Don't get me wrong. Usually I just check the position of the moon
when I get up, to find out if it's a day to stay in bed or play the
lottery.  It's saved me a lot of headaches to know what kind of course the
planets are following on any given day.  But since I'm never awake until
after the first cup of Jamaica Blue Mountain, I figure why force my brain
to process information it's not ready for? Anything more complex, I almost
always delay until after lunch.  Early morning psychic readings are for
people who like the sound of morning DJ's and dawn traffic.

        Not that many citizens of Sunnydale are checking their horoscopes
with a serious idea of what they mean.  There are possibly six practicing
Pagans in our little berg, and none of us are of the same Craft, and some
of the others ignore horoscopic influences completely.  Sunnydale may be in
California, but it's a lot closer to L.A. than San Francisco,
metaphysically speaking.  At least, I used to think so. Now I think it
might be a lot closer to somewhere.... hotter.

        Anyway.  Tarot cards, Runes, scrying---higher divination requires
concentration and preparation, and at least a general idea of what you need
to know.  The only reason I did the reading as soon as I woke up that
morning was because of the nightmare I'd had; one which I couldn't even
remember once I was fully awake. Just the general feeling of impending
doom, disaster, ruin.... And the Net had been acting so *weird* all week,
that I was hoping an impromptu Q&A would shed some light on the dark vibes
I was getting.  Nothing like tapping into the mind of the God(ess) to get
some answers.

        So on the morning when my fears first crystallized I yawned,
stumbled over to my PC, then called up the Astarte site on the Web.  I
selected the Queen of Swords for myself--- because let's face it, I may
want to be the Empress, or the Priestess, but who has the time?---and asked
the reader, "What does the day hold?" //Much too vague, Nikki,// I realized
after I hit the ENTER button. There was no way the cards could give me a
useful answer with that kind of query. The images on the screen flipped,
coalesced, and then resolved into three cards. I gulped.

        The Tower. The Chariot. Death. Or, in simpler terms: destruction.
Opposing forces fighting it out. Major changes of life-altering proportions.

        "Ohhhh, boy." Now, _that's_ a wake-up call. //Maybe I shouldn't
have asked...//

        Which was exactly when Henry spluttered, fizzed, then popped, and
the monitor went *boom* in a wash of white snow.  I stared at it for a full
minute, knowing it couldn't be a coincidence, but without the faintest idea
what I was supposed to do about it. Other than reboot Henry and say a
prayer that the portents were mocking me.

        Maybe they were. I certainly didn't expect anything like what
started happening in Sunnydale after that....

*

Christina       vqrw76a@prodigy.com     Merc : PWFC : DueSer : SunS
        Comments wanted!   }|{



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: VQRW76A@prodigy.com (MS CHRISTINA L KAMNIKAR)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Mad Moon in Scorpio" (2/6)
Date: 04 Aug 1997 23:00:18, -0500

"Mad Moon in Scorpio" (2/6)
by Christina Kamnikar
copyright 1997

        *       <       o       @       ^       2

        Sunnydale High, Home of the Razorbacks, bastion of education,
signer of my paychecks. Not exactly CalTech, but most of the time that's a
good thing. As I drove up to the teacher's parking lot I gave thanks that
my position as resident computer specialist was still low-key enough to
allow me time to contemplate recent nasty developments on the Net, and the
implications they contained.

        Dave, Fritz, and Willow---my advanced class students---were
probably already on-line and typing away, happy hackers all, possibly
creating new ways to use on-line software or, in Fritz's case, become one
*with* the software. Fritz needed a little more distance from the
computers... like, say, a trip to Bermuda.  I had to restrain the urge to
tell him to go outside and play sometimes. It wouldn't have done any good.
Dave, his partner in crime, seemed to have a better handle on how to
balance his inner life and his outer life, but that just might have been
Dave's easier-going personality. Anyone would look laid-back next to Fritz
"Jacked-In" Desmond.

        None of my students were going to be "geeks" if I could help it;
there's no reason why they should be. Non-virtual life has value too. Fritz
and Dave had a ways to go before they passed that part of my class, even
though both of them were taking college computer design courses during the
afternoon sessions.

        Willow Rosenberg, on the other hand, was progressing nicely,
although I couldn't really take credit for that.

        "No, wait, I'm good at these," I heard as I approached the Lab.
"Does it involve a midget and a block of ice?"

        "We met on-line." My star female hacker---correction, star hacker,
period---was logging onto her account with a big smile on her face, her
eyes lit up as she glanced from the monitor to her friend.

        "On line for what?" Her blonde companion asked, then followed her
friend's smile to the computer, and blinked in surprise. "Oh!" The contrast
between Buffy Summers and Willow was more than just that of different
tastes in clothing, and Buffy's vivacious good looks compared to her
friend's more restrained prettiness. Willow Rosenberg was a straight A
student, a shy, quiet girl always on the verge of blushing in embarrassment
or babbling with self-consciousness; and Buffy Summers had a reputation as
a trouble-maker, as a possible gang member (//In Sunnydale?// I'd thought
when I first heard the story), of having gotten kicked out of several
schools and burning down the gym at the last place.

        I suspected that like Willow, Buffy's image was only half-true. I'd
seen Willow stick up for her friends despite her shyness, and from what I
knew of her, Buffy was a loyal pal to Willow, and had never shown signs of
being anything like the rumors painted her.

        "Morning, kids.  Buffy, are you supposed to be somewhere?" I asked,
settling in behind my desk as I began leafing through printouts.

        "No, I have a free."

        "Cool. But this is lab time, so let's make it a nice short visit,
okay?" As long as she wasn't getting in the others' way, I wasn't about to
chase her out. She'd been good for Willow's self-image, from what I could
see. And maybe Miss Rosenberg had had a good influence on her, too.

        "Sure."  She sat down next to Willow as the other girl squealed
with delight.

        "It's him!" The slim redhead was reading email, practically
vibrating with excitement, and I grinned behind my paperwork. "He's so _sweet_!"

        "He's a sweetie," Buffy agreed uncertainly.

        "What should I write back?"  Willow's online romance was only about
a week old, and she was still in the first throes of excitement. I thought
it was kind of cute, and a good ego-booster for her, even though it
probably wouldn't come to anything in the real world. Unless.... I glanced
at Dave, who _seemed_ oblivious to the exchange between Willow and Buffy.
But it was hard to be sure, since he was hunched over his monitor so
closely. //C'mon, Dave. If it's you, you're going to have to say something *sometime*....//

        "Willow, I think that it's really great that you have this cool
pen-pal and all," Buffy's careful words didn't disguise her doubtful tone,
"but don't you think you're kinda rushing into this? You know what I mean?"

        "I'm thinking of you too!" Willow exclaimed, still concentrating on
her email correspondent. Then her shoulders slumped. "No. That's incredibly
stupid!"

        "Will. Down, girl!" Buffy took a deep breath, and continued on in a
firm voice. "Let's focus here. What do you actually know about this guy?"

        Willow turned a disappointed face to Buffy, drawing away a little.
I frowned, only half-paying attention to the rest of their conversation.
"Oh, see... I knew you'd react like this."

        "Like what?"

        //Like the average person unfamiliar with email,// I mentally
supplied. The odds of Willow actually getting to meet her email pal were
fairly good, from what I could see; but then, the odds that she'd already
met him, and he was too scared to come forward, were pretty high too.
Either way, it wasn't the risk that Buffy probably thought it. I snorted,
thinking of recent HARD COPY reports of on-line criminals and obsessive
romances, and underscored an error on one of my students' assignments with
extra force. //Trust the media to blow up one or two small incidents into
Internet stalking... Goddess, why can't they emphasize the positive? It's
that kind of journalism that has people like Rupert Giles so paranoid.//

        Our resident librarian was a perfect example of the type of person
who would never make use of Net resources except on pain of death.  Or
possibly worse. I'd gotten the impression during the book-scanning project
the previous week that Mr. Giles would have happily withstood a firing
squad, if it would have meant keeping *his* library free of *my* technical
interference.  Quiet, aloof, contained, conservative, distrustful of
everything he didn't want to understand... it was really hard to argue with
someone who refused to talk to you.

        I'd tried to get our new Oxford-educated academic to actually
_look_ at the computer scanning system, but he'd barely listened to me when
I'd explained it, preferring to let me and the students do the work that he
obviously considered a waste of time.  Frustrating. There was so much more
he could do with the new system, but he'd probably just let it sit there
and go to waste....

        I snagged my wandering thoughts away from this week's pet peeve,
and refigured the numbers on Dave and Fritz's log-in time that week as
Buffy and Willow were wrapping up their conversation.

        "Well, no! He doesn't talk like someone who would have a hairy
back." //What? How did you two get onto hairy backs as a topic of
interest...?// "Anyways, that stuff doesn't matter when you really care
about someone. I mean, maybe I'm not his ideal, either," Willow concluded
softly. I hid a sympathetic smile, as Buffy quickly cut into her friend's
temporary attack of insecurity with warm reassurance.

        "Hey! I'm just trying to make sure he's good enough for you. That's
all." Buffy's supportive grin lent weight to her words, and Willow grinned
shyly and relaxed again. I smiled to myself, then finished totalling up the
computer hours for Dave and Fritz and frowned, tapping the large number at
the bottom of the page.

        "Hey Fritz," I tried to gently get the attention of the computer
sciences most devoted acolyte, despite the recurring urge to shake him out
of his complacency. Fritz barely glanced up at me as I walked over to his
monitor. "I'm looking at the logs here, and you and Dave are clocking a
fairly scary amount of computer time."

        "New project." Monosyllables and short sentences only for Mr.
Desmond. Except when he was telling someone off.

        "Ooooo. Will I be excited?" I teased, hoping for details.

        "You'll die," Fritz responded, then returned to his project with
complacent satisfaction.  Someday, someone was going to jolt Fritz out of
his smugness. I only wished I was going to be there to see it. Nodding
carefully, I went back to my desk and paper grading, waving good-bye to
Buffy as she bounced out of the room. Willow was back to mooning over her
email, sighing happily as she composed another note.

        At least one of my students was approaching reality with a wish for
something more than unlimited Internet access. I shot a quick glance over
at Dave, and smiled to myself. //Okay. Maybe two of them.//

        >       <       >       <       >        <      >

        "Ms. Calender, I'm freaking! You gotta help me," Trent Robey
demanded, plunking his laptop down on my desk during my lunch hour. "My
history paper is due in like, half an hour, and someone messed with it."

        I swallowed the bite of sandwich in my mouth, put down the rest,
and said, "Yes, by all means, come on in and request assistance, Trent."

        "I'm sorry, but this is an emergency!" The junior was practically
tearing his hair out, and he pointed at his Macintosh accusingly, his face
contorted in panic. He'd taken a few of my computer classes the year
before, and while no wizard had seemed to have a fairly good grasp of the
basics. Whatever had been done would have to be fairly sophisticated to
force him to ask a teacher for help. I nodded carefully to keep from
upsetting him further, then found myself staring at the screen.

        "'Nazi Germany as an Example of a Well-Ordered Society?'" I asked,
glancing askance at the disgruntled student.

        "This is *not* my paper! I wrote on why the Third Reich was
inherently unstable! It's my midterm report, it's worth a third of my
grade, you have to help me prove I didn't write this---"

        "Calm down, okay? Let me just do a quick search---" I brought up
the file index and paged down through the entries by date, finding what I
suspected would be there. "See? Here it is. Somehow, it was converted into
a temp file, and this paper replaced it at the same time. Luckily, whoever
did this didn't bother to erase the original."

        "It's still there?" Trent collapsed against my desk in relief. "Oh,
man, thanks Ms. Calender. You've really saved my neck."

        "Do you know who would want to do this to you? Or how? Did you
download any information off the Net recently, and leave your account
open?" I concealed my growing sense of dis-ease from Trent, not wanting to
let him know how badly this had disturbed me. Someone had a really sick
sense of humor --- a familiar sick sense of humor.

        "No! I mean, I downloaded some stuff from the Holocaust Archives
yesterday.... but that was it." He sighed, then grinned and took the laptop
back. "I don't care how they did it, as long as it's fixed. Thanks again."

        "Be more careful on those downloads next time," I cautioned. "Use
the virus protection software. And change your passwords!" I called after
him as he walked down the hall.

        "Sure thing!"

        I slumped back into my chair, thinking furiously. For the second
time that day, something within the high school had tampered with the
on-line systems. I'd been called into Principal Snyder's office in between
third and fourth periods in order to clean up his voice mail. It seemed
that not only had someone changed the user password, making it impossible
for Mr. Snyder to retrieve his mail, but that the outgoing greeting had
been altered to an obscene proposition "for all you hot PTA mamas out
there." The voice had sounded a lot like our new principal's, but going by
how little humor he found in the situation, I was willing to bet that it
wasn't his idea of an extremely complicated practical joke.

        Chewing thoughtfully on my sandwich, I started making a list.

1)      Online power surges during readings.
2)      Altered research paper.
3)      Tampered Audix messaging.
4)      General online shutdowns for last week.

        I tapped a pencil against the desk, thinking. //Bad juju. I don't
like it. It feels... weird.// The complexity of the pranks and their
bad-natured humor hinted at more than a virus, or one person getting into
nearby systems. There was an active, malicious intelligence behind the
attacks; someone with a nasty interest in Sunnydale High. Of course, the
power surges and shutdowns couldn't be connected to the software pranks.

        Could they?

        //I need a second opinion.// I tapped out a number on the phone,
hoping my best friend and fellow local Pagan would be in.  She wasn't in
the same discipline, but if I was right about what was going on, she might
be able to give me some perspective on the situation.

        "Cameo's Psychic Health Store, for all your spiritual needs,"
chirped into my ear. "Today, we're running a special on protective spells
and cleansing bath salts. What can I help you with?"

        "Hi, it's Nikki, Cami."

        "I know. Want some calming bubble beads?"

        I laughed. "Maybe later. Listen, do you have time tomorrow to give
me a reading after work?" Aside from the ginseng tea and beeswax candles,
Cameo also did a very profitable business in Tarot card reading. Right at
the moment, I didn't trust my own ability to pull up the information I
wanted. Not without it coming back with three jokers on the screen, anyway.

        "Sure. Are you positive you can wait that long?"

        "What do you know that I don't?" I asked in concern.

        "Just that you're surrounded by turmoil and conflict."

        "I work at the high school, Cameo. I'm *always* surrounded by
turmoil and conflict."

        "Not like this." Cameo's usually happy, upbeat voice had scaled
down into a strained version of itself. "I mean it, Nikki. I was going to
call you tonight, if you hadn't called me first---you really ought to come
over here as soon as you can---"

        "Which is tomorrow. I've got a faculty meeting tonight. I'll see
you right after school tomorrow, though. Okay?"

        A huge dramatic sigh. "Okayyyyy. I guess it can wait. The signs are
urgent but not catastrophic."

        "Good."

        "Yet."

        I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Cameo, for your comfort in my time of
trouble. I'll see you soon." I hung up the phone and stared at it moodily,
then glanced around the room at the computer screens and shivered.

        For a second, I'd gotten the weird sensation that someone was...
watching me.

*
 Christina      vqrw76a@prodigy.com     Merc : PWFC : DueSer : SunS
        }|{



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: VQRW76A@prodigy.com (MS CHRISTINA L KAMNIKAR)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Mad Moon in Scorpio" (3/6)
Date: 04 Aug 1997 23:01:42, -0500

"Man Moon in Scorpio" (3/6)
by Christina Kamnikar
copyright 1997

        #       ^       /       []      3       *       V

        Thursday was a universally frustrating day. More on-line shutdowns,
more students coming in with unforeseen technical problems; and more
weirdness with no visible cause showing up all over the Net.  I kept
getting warnings from paranormal guru Brother Luca and several of my other
cyberspace sources about widespread chaos across the world, all of it
escalating in tandem to its own demented beat.

        Since I couldn't do anything about that---or at least, I couldn't
think of any action to take, and my brain-storming session with Cameo
wasn't until later that evening---I decided to deal with a smaller scale
non-problem just to make myself feel better. Dave and Fritz were up to
something, and my curiosity had grown to where I didn't want to accept
their evasive answers any longer. Besides, I was hoping for the chance to
give Dave a little advice, or maybe point him in the right direction
regarding Willow and her on-line romance. If Malcolm really was Dave, now
was the time to reveal his identity.  Of course, if he wasn't, then it was
probably too late for him to do anything---assuming he even wanted to.

        "So, the project is going well?" I casually asked Dave during the
Advanced Programming Session he helped with after lunch.

        "Project?" Dave's expression was hunted, his eyes rapidly flipping
between me and the computer screen in front of him. "You know about that?"

        "Sure." I smiled, trying to put him at ease. "Fritz explained the
extra hours you guys were eating up. Is it connected to your internship?" I
sat down on the edge of the computer desk, projecting as much approval and
interest as I could. Dave really had a hard time articulating non-technical
concepts, and tended to stress with little encouragement. "How is that
going, by the way? You never did say who it was with."

        "Great." He nodded earnestly, and swallowed hard, searching for
words. "It's great. Very... complex. Multi-layered. I'm really happy there."

        "Good." Dave stared back at me, seeming to have run out of words,
so I prompted him. "The project? What is it?"

        "Oh!" His pale eyes blinked rapidly, and he opened and shut his
mouth several times. "It's... classified. We're getting into a totally new
area. Completely. I'm not supposed to talk about it." Dave glanced from the
monitor to me, then back again, clearly wishing I would drop the subject.
"Ummmm... CRD is hoping to start up again, based on the new product." He
smiled in relief, glad to have explained it to his own satisfaction, if not
mine. "That's it. We can't tell you until after it's finished."

        "Oh." Slightly disappointed, I shrugged philosophically. "Well, I
hope you'll let me know the details when it's done. I'd love to hear about it."

        "Sure! No problem." He bobbed his head in determination, still
seeming nervous, and I smiled and went back to my desk, taking a few
minutes to rearrange some papers before casually bringing up another
subject of not-so-casual interest.

        "Speaking of secrets... you wouldn't have any acquaintance with
Willow's on-line boyfriend, would you?"

        Dave's keyboard went clattering off the desktop as my question made
him jerk in shock. "What? Why are you asking that?" His voice was sharp,
guilty---and fearful.

        "No reason, Dave," I soothed him. "I was just curious. Forget I
asked---" //I wouldn't tell her, you silly kid. Relax!// I thought in
amazment, studying his white, stricken face.

        "It's not me," he said hastily, then added in a rush, "But I'm sure
he's good guy. Willow likes him, and that's what's important, right?"

        "Right." I blinked, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared at
Dave. He was upset out of all proportion to my off-the-cuff inquiry. "Is
there something bothering you? Something about this little romance of
Willow's that I should know about?"

        "No!" Dave responded explosively. He stood up and began gathering
his books as the end-of-class bell rang. "I mean, I don't know anything.
Anything at all. I gotta go---"

        "Dave---" But he'd already rushed out the door ahead of the
Beginning Students, his shoulders hunched and eyes averted as if afraid I'd
drag him back into the room.  I stared after him as the rest of the class
filed out, trying to get a handle on what was going on with Dave.
Something major, obviously; but what? Was it Willow and her penpal? Or was
he just keyed up about the CRD project?

        The room emptied, and I frowned. CRD, hunh? I should have heard if
they were trying to start up production again, and I hadn't. Absently, I
turned off all the computers, gathered up my papers and slowly made my way
to the parking lot. When had CRD decided to make a comeback? The last I
knew, they were completely bankrupt, the main designers working for Silicon
Valley companies, the assets scattered to different debtholders. The more I
thought about Dave the less I liked the implications of his and Fritz's
little 'project'. And why had he freaked so badly when I asked him about
Willow's Malcolm?

                >       <       >       <       >       <

        "Got any ideas of what you're going to ask about? 'Cause I'm
telling you Nikki, the portents are *so* conflicting, we'll just get gloom
and doom if you don't give me something to focus on," Cameo said doubtfully
as she dimmed the lights and got out her cards. I lit a single large candle
and made myself comfortable at the table. Cami's face looked pale in the
unsteady light, either from tiredness or worry.  It was late, and we'd
analyzed the recent on-line and real life events at the school nearly to
death before agreeing that I needed more information. Using the Web for a
reading was no guarantee of true information right now; so we were doing it
the old-fashioned way.

        "Standard spread, I guess. Forces opposing, aiding, surrounding." I
cut the cards, and gave them to Cameo as the reader. She nodded and cut
them again, then I cut them, then she spread them out on the table, her
small hands with their close-bitten nails flicking the cards down with the
speed of long practice. I'd already picked out the card representing me -
the Queen of Swords, whose weapons are thoughts and words - and it only
took a minute for Cameo to go into a light trance and deal out the other
nine cards. It's not quite witchcraft; it's just Cami. She's got a gift for
getting answers, either from cards or people. Most of it is years of
practice---and maybe the gods of chance just like to let her in on some
secrets because she never tells any.

        I turned over the three cards for the forces surrounding me, hoping
it would clarify what the heck was going on. "Perfect. I got these
yesterday morning," I said in frustration. Cameo leaned her chin on her
hands, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes as she studied the
triangle of Tower, Death, and Chariot. "Not much help there. Chaos,
destruction, change... I *knew* this already."

        "I don't like that this is the second time you've gotten them,
though," Cami murmured. "Let's see what the forces opposing you are---" She
flipped the triangle of cards over with a light sweep of her fingers, and I
stared. Cameo stared. Then she looked at me, her eyes huge. "You're in
biiiig trouble, girlfriend."

        "Oh, yeah."

        The Ace of Swords: pure mental power. The Emperor: the urge to
rule, to control, to conquer. The Devil: sometimes good, sometimes bad,
always concerning hidden secrets, urges, desires left uncontrolled. I heard
Cameo swallow before she tentatively said, "Ummm, if this is what's
opposing you, they're a lot more motivated and scary than you thought. If
this is what's causing the shutdowns and rampant weirdness... it's not
going to stop here. Someone is *making* it happen. Someone with a lot of juice."

        I nodded grimly, then steeled myself and turned over the cards
representing the forces on my side of the balance. "The Hierophant.
Justice. The Page of Wands."

        "That's a lot more specific. Do they ring any bells?" Cameo asked,
gesturing to the faces on the cards. "You know the meanings as well as I
do. The Teacher, Nemesis, and an apprentice knight. I always thought that
version of Justice looked more like an amazon than she does in most decks..."

        "No, no bells ringing...." I blinked, then grimaced. "Although..."

        "What?"

        "Nothing. I just have my fellow teachers on the brain."

        My friend grinned like a happy chipmunk. "Mr. Giles again, hunh?"

        "What again? I mentioned him only one time tonight---" Cameo's
smile widened, and I cursed under my breath, realizing I'd confirmed her
guess. That's the price of letting off steam to your best friend; she gets
to read your mind later.  "Okay, so? The Hierophant's giving out knowledge
from on high, he's usually secluded, yeah, it reminded me of Rupert. Big deal---"

        "You know that might be right, though."

        "Hunh?" I gasped, then chortled. "Rupert Giles is supposed to help
me fight a malevolent force on the Internet? I don't *think* so. No. No,
it's got to have another meaning." I sighed. "This is getting us nowhere. I
need to _do_ something. I can't wait around until 'all is revealed'! So far
no one's gotten hurt--- as far as I know. I'm positive this thing has an
interest in Sunnydale High, there've been too many coincidences and
accidents there. I'm on the spot, I can use that to my advantage---"

        "You could narrow down where the problem is, maybe, and do a
cleansing?" Cameo offered thoughtfully.

        "Hmmmm." I narrowed my eyes, Cami's words giving me an idea. "That
might be a start. And maybe a protection or two---"

        "That'd be more helpful for the students than for the computers. I
can get you some supplies." Cameo pushed her chair back, then trotted off
to her store closet. "I'll be right back!"

        I gazed down at the cards, then gathered them up, reshuffling them
as I pondered my hypothetical allies. The Hierophant. Justice. Page of
Wands... Dave? Nahhhh. Dave wasn't anything like the Page of Wands was
supposed to be, changeable and quick, talkative and fiery. No. I slammed
the cards down on the table in frustration.

        A single card shot out of the deck, skimming across the table and
flipping face-up when it hit the candle. Picking it up carefully, I felt a
tingle up my spine, something I couldn't explain; a feeling of recognition.
It was the Page of Cups; a young page stood in the forest, staring into a
pool of water, beneath a drooping tree....

        "Willow?"

*
Christina       vqrw76a@prodigy.com     Merc : PWFC : DueSer : SunS



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: VQRW76A@prodigy.com (MS CHRISTINA L KAMNIKAR)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Mad Moon in Scorpio" (6/6)
Date: 05 Aug 1997 15:59:52, -0500

"Mad Moon in Scorpio"
by Christina Kamnikar
copyright 1997

        6       ^       >       <       =       ()      0

        Ten minutes after Moloch's last shriek had echoed through the
library, Giles and I were still trying to figure out what to do next. Well,
okay, so, it was more like fighting than actually trying to agree on
anything. Rupert wanted to drive straight over to CRD and find the kids,
while I was trying to persuade him that calling in the police would be a
good idea about then. He would have left immediately if I hadn't been
sitting on the car keys he was searching for; and I would have already
notified the authorities, if Giles hadn't taken the receiver cord off the
phone and stuffed it in his pocket.

        When the phone finally rang, he had to fish the cord out of his
jacket pocket and reconnect it, looking somewhat chagrined, before he could
answer the call. "Yes?" His eyes closed and he smiled in relief, and I
sagged bonelessly, not needing to hear anything more to know they were all
okay. "Splendid. We're very glad to hear that. Is Willow...." He frowned,
nodding, glanced at me and looked away, his lips setting into a resigned
line, then said, "I think that *is* the best course of action. We'll wait
for you here.... Yes. Tell Willow we're relieved she's well... Good-bye."

        I ran trembling fingers through my hair, and smiled a little
giddily at the librarian as he hung up the phone. "They're really okay?"

        "I didn't get a great deal of information---Buffy tends to be
rather minimalist in her phone conversation skills---but I gather that all
three of them are out of danger, and Moloch has been neutralized, at least
for the time being. Buffy will be here shortly to clear up the last
details." Giles sank into one of the library chairs, weariness and the
remnants of worry giving his face an unfocused expression. "Xander will be
staying with Willow until her parents return from the theatre, as moral
support. None of them were physically hurt, but I can't imagine that she's
not... umm, upset."

        "For starters," I commented, not having the energy to needle him
any further. Poor Willow. She'd been so thrilled to have an admirer, and to
have him turn out to be a demon... well, it was definitely going to mess
with her head. I made a mental note to keep an eye on her for the next few
days, possibly offer her some discreet moral support as the furor died
down. Which reminded me of Dave; and all the grief to come for his parents
when they found out he was dead. "Did any of you contact the police about
Dave, yet?"

        "Umm... no. We were rather busy---" Giles said apologetically.

        "It's okay, I know, I wasn't criticizing," I interrupted, waving
his explanation away. "I was just thinking that maybe I should be the one
to call it in and deal with the police's questions. The students have been
through enough already, and there's no reason why you would be looking for
him. Where is he, again?" I swallowed hard, steeling myself for the sight
of Dave's lifeless body.

        "The computer lab. He's been hanged. We should probably wait until
after Buffy has left before we call the authorities." Rupert shot me a
grave look, then said quietly, "I'll go with you, and stay until the police
arrive. There's no reason you should have to do this alone."

        I opened my mouth to object, then nodded without speaking, grateful
and surprised again by Giles's unexpected perception. I'd liked Dave; had
hoped for good things for him... and now all those hopes had been cut off.

        We didn't speak again until Buffy arrived, both of us withdrawing a
little to try and deal with what had happened, I think. I know I was
startled when the library doors were pushed open, to reveal Buffy Summers
carrying what first appeared to be a metallic box.

        "Whoa," I muttered when she dropped it on the table. It wasn't a
box, it was a head; made of sheet metal, with wiring trailing from where
the neck should be, and two flickering LED lights for eyes---and curling
horns. "Is that what I think it is?"

        "Good... heavens." Giles looked ill. "Moloch?"

        "What's left of him," Buffy said, perching on the table next to the
gruesome trophy. "He had the zomboids at CRD make him a robot body, and
when you guys finished the ritual---you have absolutely *awesome* timing,
did I mention that?---he got stuck in it. Didn't exactly make his day." She
swung her legs nonchalantly, smiling at the two of us, much less bothered
by the bizarre circumstances than either of the adults in the room, from
what I could see.

        "So how did you get the head?" I asked, my fingers reaching out
toward it. I couldn't force myself to touch it; there was still something
vaguely malevolent about that dead-eyed gaze.

        "Well, he kinda lost it when he realized he was bound in the body,
and not in cyberspace anymore. So he was trying to kill the three of us---"
Giles made a sound of distress, halfway between a cough and groan, and
Buffy swiftly turned to reassure him, shooting me an uncomfortable look in
the process. "It's cool, Mr. Giles. Really! Nobody got hurt, and Willow
even got in some good shots at him; remind me not to get her mad at _me_."
She grinned, then grimaced at the head. "But he was so freaked that he
didn't really look where he was punching, and when he was swinging at me he
missed and hit a fuse box. *Completely* whacked out his circuits. You
should've seen it, Giles, sparks and fireworks and the whole body just came
apart like exploding Legos! It was great."

        "I'm glad to hear it." Rupert crossed his arms, some of the
stuffiness coming back into his manner; but it still couldn't disguise how
relieved he was. I found myself grinning at him too, now that I knew his
pompousity was at least partly an act. He hadn't even corrected Buffy's
slip into the casual use of his last name; I guessed that he'd given up
trying at some point in the past. "But perhaps you'll explain why you
brought us the head?"

        "It gave me the creeps." At the librarian's raised eyebrows, Buffy
rolled her eyes, her voice becoming *extremely* patient. "Look, I didn't
think bringing the whole body would be a good idea, and the voicebox was on
the torso part, but... I was wondering..." She stared nervously at the
android head sitting next to her. "I was wondering if he was still in
there, maybe."

        Giles blinked once, twice, then his gaze sharpened on the remains
of Moloch. "Yes, of course.  Excellent work, Buffy."

        "Very excellent work," I added, impressed that she'd thought of it.
"You're right. Since demons can't be destroyed---"

        "They can't?"

        "No." The Brit was paging through his book of rituals again, his
voice grim. "They can only be banished from our world, or bound. And since
banishment takes considerably more power and knowledge than we have
available to us, our only recourse is to bind him. At least until I can
find a reliable banishing ceremony." He drew a deep breath of relief.
"Yes. Quite. *Now* we can bind it back into the book."

        "Are you sure that's a smart idea?"

        "We can't leave it in this form, Miss Calender. I think you'll
agree that there's still some risk---suppose one of his minions from CRD
decided to try to reassemble him?"

        "Good point," I murmured. I picked up one of the lighters and began
lighting the candles again. We really didn't have any options. It wasn't
the best solution, but it was better than leaving Moloch as a decorative
doorstop. "What happened to all of them, anyway?"

        "Well, Xander and I... kinda took care of some of them." I stared
at Buffy's petite form, then remembered her reputation, and suddenly
wondered exactly how much of it *was* only rumor. "They'll be waking up
around now, I guess. But CRD's a mess, and with Moloch gone I don't think
they'll know what to do right away." She looked at me for a second, then at
Giles, and said tentatively, "Fritz, though... Willow said Moloch killed
him, to make some point. She wasn't really clear about it, she was pretty
shook up...."

        I stared at the lifeless head, wishing I could inflict some pain on
it, wishing that there was more I could do to exact justice. "Poor Fritz,"
I whispered. "Never had a clue about real life. I know he might have been
the one to kill Dave, but..." I shook my head. "He never had a chance." I
looked up to surprise an expression of sympathy on Rupert's face, and I
forced a small smile. "How is Willow coping with this?"

        "She'll be okay," Buffy said. "She's stronger than she looks, you
know. And Xander's with her; he'll help her deal. I think she was feeling
more humiliated that she got fooled by Malcolm than anything else. She was
too mad to stay scared the whole time."

        "Well, that's something."

        "She had a very close call," Giles observed soberly. "But in time,
she will recover. For now, we have to make certain that Moloch can't cause
any future harm. I'll keep the book under lock and key in my office, until
I can find an alternative." He rubbed at his eyes, looking exhausted.
"We'll need to re-enact the binding ceremony---it's fortunate that you're
here, Buffy. The Circle requires no less than three people to be effective,
so I'm afraid you'll have to participate."

        "Cool. Let's do it." Buffy was amazingly calm about all of this. I
couldn't decide if it was teen-age resilience or innate strength of
character, but I resolved  _never_ to underestimate Willow's friend again.
She might not be passing all of her classes, but Buffy Summers kept cooler
in a crisis in a way that you would expect of someone years older.

        We formed the Circle of Kayless again, with Giles leading the
ceremony as before. The magician qualities about Giles seemed more muted
this time, but they were still there, jarring at all my preconceptions of
him one more time. Power gathered in the room slowly, the candles
flickered, the eyes of the head seemed to glow, the wind started
screaming--- then *ZAP*!

        Darkness abruptly rose from the metal cranium, swirling through the
room briefly, until it was sucked into the book. As we watched, characters
and then words were forming on the page... filling up the folio faster and
faster, until all the candles went out simultaneously, and the wind died
down. The chilling sense of presence was gone, utterly and completely.
Giles shut the book very carefully, then collapsed against the table. "I'm
glad that's over... it takes a lot out of one." His voice was husky with
fatigue, and Buffy patted him on the shoulder.

        "Get some rest, Giles. You too, Miss Calender. I'm going back over
to Willow's. Call us there if anything comes up, okay?"

        "Yes, of course. Thank you again, Buffy. Give Willow our regards."

        Buffy was still energetic enough to nearly skip out of the library
as she left. //Oh, to be young and bright and fearless.// I joined Giles at
the table, feeling like I needed about twenty-four hours of sleep and a hot
shower to feel human again. But there was still Dave's death to be dealt
with, and all the police procedures that went with it. "What a night."

        "Miss Calender, your help has been invaluable."

        "No sweat." I patted him on the shoulder, as Buffy had done.

        "Perhaps not. But I... I owe you an apology, I think, for my
attitude earlier this week, and the most heartfelt thanks for your
assistance in this matter."  Giles really does have a sweet smile,
especially when he's being sincere. "I can honestly say I couldn't have
done it without you."

        Shrugging, I smiled back, feeling *really* self-conscious with him
looking at me like that.  "You're welcome. Are you going to explain about
how you knew what was going on?"

        "Oh. Um...." Flustered again, Giles started stammering as he stood
up, gathering some of the books together.  "Well, you see, I recognized the
book---"

        "How?"

        "Could we discuss this at another time?" The genuinely worn
expression and pleading tone wouldn't have put me off, if it weren't for
the fact that I was too tired to pursue it. Besides. It's not like I'm not
going to get it out of Rupert someday....

        "Okay. Another time, when you're not so trashed."

        "Indeed." He finished cleaning up the books, put the Moloch volume
in his office, then locked the office doors and ushered me out of the
library, turning off the lights as we exited... then we slowly turned to
walk toward the computer lab.


        -      >       <       >       <       >       <       +

        The next day couldn't actually be called typical; there was a
teacher's meeting to discuss Dave's "suicide" and the discovery of Fritz's
body in a ditch just outside of town.  Giles and I avoided looking each
other in the eye as the details were discussed and theories put forth.
Principal Snyder was predictably unhappy about all of it. I kept my mouth
shut, except to mention that both had been working at CRD. A fire at their
main research lab had destroyed half the site, and a handful of workers had
disappeared at the same time. The police were as satisfied as they could
be, having decided that Dave and Fritz had run across something illegal at
the lab and were possibly killed because of it. I was glad that the police
hadn't believed Dave's death was a suicide, either; at least his parents
didn't have to cope with that kind of guilt.

        The Net had settled down again, with only routine glitches and
problems occurring since Moloch's binding. It was relief on a cosmic scale
for me to realize that he was gone, to know he wasn't contaminating and
corrupting other systems---and people. I'd called Cameo the night before,
told her what had happened, then booted up Henry to find he was in perfect
shape again. I had to explain some of what happened to my group, all of
whom were praising me more than I deserved for helping rid the Net of the interloper.

        Willow wasn't in lab that morning, but she did make it to her
afternoon class, where she thanked me for helping out Mr. Giles with the
"virus" in the library system. She didn't seem to want to talk about
Malcolm/Moloch, or Dave, and I didn't push her. Seeing her sad eyes and
muted enthusiasm gave me a pang of sympathy for her, and anger toward
Moloch, even though he was still bound. I told her that if she wanted to
talk, I'd be willing to listen, and she smiled shyly before shaking her
head. I was glad to see Buffy and Xander waiting outside of class for her,
obviously looking out for their friend, and hoped that time would erase
most of the bad memories.

        It wasn't until nearly the end of the day that I saw Giles alone
again. "Well, look who's here." I smiled, pleased to see him hovering in my
doorway. "Welcome to my world. You scared?" I asked challengingly, noting
the nervous glances he kept shooting at the computers.

        "I'm... remaining calm, thank you. I just wanted to return this."
He held out one of my corkscrew dangles, smiling ironically, but without
the former edge of combativeness that had been between us. "I found it
among the new books, and naturally, I thought of you."

        "Cool. Thanks." I took it and grinned at him, noticing that he
seemed to have become a lot more attractive since the night before. Or
maybe it was just that without the usual irritation he'd inspired, I could
see what had always been there.

        "Well, I'll see you anon." Giles started backing towards the door,
mission accomplished, ready to escape.

        "Can't get out of here fast enough, can you?"

        He stopped, then sighed. "Truthfully? I'm even less anxious to be
around computers than usual."

        "Well, it was your book that started all the trouble, _not_ a
computer." Giles looked away, slightly rueful. I sharpened my attention on
him, wanting a straight answer for once. "Honestly, what is it about them
that bothers you so much?"

        He pondered for a moment, then firmly said, "The smell."

        "Computers don't smell, Rupert."

        "I know." He took off his glasses, getting caught up in verbalizing
his thoughts, stuttering a little with the same enthusiasm I'd surprised
out of him when we'd talked about computers before.  "Smell is one of the
most powerful triggers to memory there is.  A flower, or whiff of smoke,
can bring up experiences long forgotten. Books smell.... Musty, and
rich.... Knowledge gained from a computer has no texture, no context! It's
there, and then it's gone." Giles grimaced, then shook his head with
determination. "If it's to last, the getting of knowledge should be
tangible. It should be... smelly."

        I'd never noticed what a great voice he had before, either. "Well,
you really are an old-fashioned boy, aren't you?"

        He put his glasses back on, a little embarassed, but definitely
amused, smiling at me wryly. "Well I don't dangle a corkscrew from my ear,
if that's what you mean."

        Okay, so I'm evil. Sue me.

        "That's... *not* where I dangle it." I said with a completely
straight face, then turned away to hide my smile.

        Priceless. The look on his face, the glimpse I caught of it anyway,
all British and stunned and fascinated... absolutely *priceless*.

        Rupert can have whatever secrets he wants. But I'm just going to
keep him wondering about mine....


>>END OF LINE
                Comments hoped for!
Christina    vqrw76a@prodigy.com     SunS : DueSer : Merc : PWFC : HC
        ^       @       *       ~       )       +       =       }|{



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: VQRW76A@prodigy.com (MS CHRISTINA L KAMNIKAR)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Mad Moon in Scorpio" (5/6)
Date: 05 Aug 1997 15:56:32, -0500

"Mad Moon in Scorpio"
by Christina Kamnikar
copyright 1997

        *       @       %       !       ~       =       5

        There was no sign of a worried Brit in the main stacks, but I could
hear the radio in the office when I entered the library. I rapped lightly
on the heavy oak door as I walked in. "Hi. I got your message. What's so urgent?"

        Giles was at his desk, one lamp casting a dim glow around the
stacks of papers and books, but he hurriedly stood and turned off the radio
when I entered, leaning back against his desk and seeming flustered as I
shut the door.  "Ahhh... thank you for coming. Um... I need your help."  I
blinked both at the bald statement of fact and at the anxious, desperate
manner in which he uttered it.  No more pride here; Rupert was way too
keyed up to care about either that or his professional image. His
expression begged me for understanding as he stuttered on. "But before
that, um...  I need you to believe something that, um... you may not want
to." It was almost painful to watch him try to work up the nerve to
explain. "Uhhhmmm, something's got into the um... inside, ummm...." He
visibly braced himself for my reaction, then blurted out, "There's a demon
in the Internet."

        "I know," I said, trying to calm him down with matter-of-fact
acceptance of his statement. //The cards were right... and so was my first
reaction. I should have trusted my gut instinct---//

        "You already know ... Uhm. How exactly is that?" Stunned disbelief
combined with defensiveness and something like fear to put Giles even
*more* on edge than he'd been when I walked in. He was watching me like he
was afraid I was going to attack, or laugh, or suddenly cast a spell; I'd
have loved to know how *he* knew what was going on, but there wasn't time
for that. I had to get him calm enough to explain the problem, and he
wasn't going to until he believed that *I* believed him.

        "C'mon, there've been portents for days. I mean, power surges,
on-line shut-downs.... You should see the bones I've been casting."  I
sighed in frustration, wishing I'd shared my information with him two days
ago, after the Tarot reading at Cameo's. "I *knew* this would happen sooner
or later. I mean it's probably a mischief demon, you know, like Kelkor or---"

        "It's Moloch." Giles' voice was very low as he turned away from me,
his face hidden in the shadows.

        "The Corrupter?" I felt like I'd taken a punch to the gut. Mischief
demon? Was that what I'd thought this might be?  That would've been a piece
of cake compared to one of the oldest and most seductive diabolicols in the
Netherworld.  "Oh boy. I should've remembered, I just didn't---" //He's
gotten to Fritz, and Dave, and maybe Willow,// I realized. //That's why
they've been so weird---oh, God, oh Goddess---//

        "You don't seem exactly surprised by all... Who are you?" The
almost accusatory tone in which Rupert asked this had me blinking again,
slightly amused and distracted from thoughts of Moloch.

        "I teach computer science at the local high school," I reminded
him. What, was he expecting me to be the Queen of Faerie?

        "A profession that hardly lends itself to the casting of bones."
Giles had backed into a corner was watching me narrowly, clearly not
convinced that I was on his side yet. His face was hard to read, light
reflecting off the lenses of his glasses and hiding his eyes.

        I snorted. "Wrong and wrong, Snobby. You think the realm of the
mystical is limited to ancient texts and relics? Did bad old Science make
the magic go away?" A little laugh escaped me, part exasperation, part pity
for his obtuseness. "The divine exists in cyberspace, same as out here."

        "Are you a witch?" He leaned forward, the fear still present but
mixed with fascination.

        I shook my head. "I don't have that kind of power. Technopagan is
the term." Shrugging, I smiled a very little bit, feeling self-conscious,
watching his reaction carefully. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing I told
everyone; I could just *imagine* Principal Snyder's reaction, if he knew.
Hopefully Giles would keep it to himself.  If he didn't weird out on me
now, we might be able to get through this.... "There are more of us than
you think."

        Giles swallowed, and his face cleared into relief bordering on
delight. "Well, umm, you can definitely help me. Uhm... what's in
cyberspace at the moment is less than divine." He'd gathered up several
books and was hurrying out into the main library, holding the door for me
for a second then striding urgently over to the computer. "I have the
binding rituals at hand, but I'm completely out of my idiom."

        "Well, I can help. I think. Well, this is my first real--- Do you
know how he got in?" I was feeling a little panicked as it hit me that we
were about to do a real live major-league spellcasting against one of the
Top Ten Demons Not to Invite to Dinner. //And where did he get *binding
rituals*, anyway?// Something to freak about later, that Rupert Giles,
who'd I'd pegged as a materialist skeptic without a second thought, not
only believed in demons but knew how to banish them.

        "He was ... scanned, I believe is the term." The dry tone wasn't
insulting or combative, at least not when leavened with the ironic glance
he shot me.

        I rolled my eyes at the gibe, then asked, "And you want him back in
the book?"

        Before Giles could answer, the phone rang, and he turned to answer
it before it rang a second time. "Buffy?" I blinked, trying to figure out
why Buffy would be calling--and then my unarticulated question was answered
before I completed it.  "Willow?" //Dave. Fritz. Willow? What's
happening---// "Where are you?" I booted up the computer, biting my lip to
keep from interrupting. "Miss Calender and I are working to get Moloch
off-line." A pause, and then Rupert hung up without saying good-bye, and
hurried back over to my side.

       "What's up with Buffy and Willow?" I asked, pulling up the chat
program and checking to see if I was setting off any electronic trip wires.
Nothing objected; which was good. Moloch was too cocky, or too
inexperienced with some portions of cyberspace to have realized what could
still be done to bind him.

        "Willow's disappeared." My fingers froze on the keyboard at
Rupert's strained tone, and I looked up to see him fighting to hide tense
worry from me, and not succeeding very well. "Apparently Moloch has been
masquerading as Malcolm, her on-line pen-pal---"

        "Oh, no..." //She'll be devastated when she finds out... But what
could have happened to her?//

        Giles was still speaking, his voice sounding tight and unhappy.
"Buffy and Xander are at CRD, where Fritz and ... Dave, were working. We
believe Willow may be there, possibly against her will." He took off his
glasses and polished them, then put them back on, gripping the back of my
chair as his voice softened. "I should tell you---I'm very sorry to have to
be the one to tell you... David is dead. Buffy found his body in the
computer room less than an hour ago, which precipitated our search for Willow."

        I stared numbly at the computer screen as it accessed the program I
needed, feeling like I'd failed Dave somehow. Even knowing what I was up
against didn't help. Moloch had been corrupting and killing for a millenia;
Dave would be far from his first victim. But it still hurt to know that the
fortune I'd guessed from Dave's flame was true; and that the shy kid with
the brilliant insights was gone. "How?" I whispered.

        "It's possible that one of the employees at CRD killed him... it
looked like a suicide, but a rather unconvincing one." //Or Fritz? It would
have been easier for him...// I wondered bleakly, remembering the hints
he'd dropped that week as I could feel myself droop with grief and pain.
The hand gripping the back of my chair was suddenly laid comfortingly on my
shoulder, and I swallowed and nodded my understanding, strangely reassured
by so small a gesture. I looked up at Rupert and forced a grim smile. At
least neither of us were in this alone.

        "Then we'd better get to work." I turned back to the computer,
blinking hard. "We don't want Willow to be next, do we?"

        "Exactly." He squeezed my shoulder briefly, then walked away,
opening drawers in one of the cabinets and taking out several handfuls of
white candles, along with two small butane lighters. I finished setting up
the program, then moved to help him form the pattern we needed. I still had
a lot of questions---like why Buffy and Xander were off trying to retrieve
Willow; how they'd put the pieces together to form Moloch---but it didn't
matter. I could feel the time slipping away from us as we placed the last
of the candles and I returned to the computer. Willow, Buffy and Xander
were counting on us.  Explanations could wait.

        "The first thing we have to do is form the Circle of Kayless. Right?"

        "Circle... but there's only two of us. It's really more of a line."
It really was a good thing that Giles had asked for my help. 'Out of his
idiom' was, in this case, just another British understatement.

        "You're not getting it, Rupert," I said patiently. "We have to form
the Circle *inside*. I'm putting out a flash, I just hope enough of my
group responds."

        "Won't Moloch just shut you down?"

        Valid question. But not one I wanted to think about. "I'm betting
he won't notice until it's too late."

        "Hoping and betting, is that what we're reduced to..." Rupert's
tone was approaching despair. He was nearly frantic in a restrained,
British way that I hadn't expected and couldn't blame him for; the fear in
his face made me think of Willow again, and what Moloch usually did to
those who disappointed or rejected him.

        Anxiety made my voice a little sharper than I meant it to be. "You
want to throw in praying? Be my guest."

        Answers were coming back from my group, and I let out a silent
breath of relief.  Julio in Mexico City, Catherine in San Diego, Petra in
Hawaii, Fox in Vancouver, and Kiki in Denver were all up and willing to
enact the ceremony; more, they were willing to do it without asking why.
//I love you guys... // I started the link to CRD and between my fellow
Circle members, and set up the chat board. "Almost there."

        "Couldn't you just upload a computer virus?" Giles asked hopefully.

        //Giles, we have *got* to talk about a beginner's class for
you...// "You've seen way too many movies." A couple more commands and
squared my shoulders. "Okay, we're up.  You read, I type. Ready?"

        "Oh! Yes. I am..." He opened the book, and read the first phrase of
the invocation. "By the power of the Divine; by the Essence of the Word; I
command you."

        Something - a sharpening of attention, or an intensifying of
perception - immediately kicked in as I started to type. I could feel it,
the magic, in a way I'd never felt or heard or sensed it before. With every
word, it grew in strength, started to shape itself in the air around me, in
Giles's voice, and became centered on the computer. I forced my fingers not
to tremble as I fed the keyboard the commands while Rupert's voice continued.

       "By the Power of the Circle of Kayless, I command you." Giles looked
over my shoulder and diffidently pointed out, "That's Kayless with a K." I
nodded and backspaced even as I frivolously wondered about Klingon
connections to the underworld. //Later. Freaking is for later. Type, Nikki.
Type.//

        "Demon, come!" Maybe it was my imagination, or maybe it was the
rising tide of magic, but Giles's voice was sounding clearer, more vivid by
the second. I could actually *feel* the power building in the room as my
group repeated the commands, and each time the librarian spoke a new phrase
his confidence and sense of authority seemed to increase. It was more than
a little scary; and if I hadn't been so busy typing, I would have been
gaping at the new Giles in total awe-struck stupefication.  "*I command you!*"

        Tension crackling through the room, my fingers flying as fast as
they could----hurry, hurry, hurry, have to save Willow, can't let her be
lost like Dave, like Fritz, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon----

        "*Demon, COME!*"

        No one, no entity in this world, could refuse that command. I hit
the ENTER key, and the gathering force exploded.  A howling wind whipped
through the library, and lights flickered on and off as an electronic
scream--- unholy, inhuman, and terrifying--- rose from the computer,
reaching an ear-shattering pitch as Giles joined me next to the terminal.
"Whoa!" Sparks flew out of the monitor and smoke curled upward, with a
smell that was stronger than that simply of fried circuitry. I gulped.
//Damn. Now, *that's* what I call impressive....//

        The power dissipated; the wind died down, the lights steadied, and
the computer stayed very, very dead. "He's out of the Net. He's bound."

        Giles picked up the old volume and paged through it, his face a
study of worry and confusion. "He's not in the book."

        Blinking, I joined him to stare at the blank pages. "He's not in
the book." I shivered, glancing around the library, wondering what had gone
wrong. "Where *is* he?" I only had to look in Giles's eyes to realize that
he had no idea, either.

        "I'm afraid..." Giles rubbed his eyes, took off his glasses again,
then let out a long breath. "That it's now up to Buffy and Xander. And
Willow." He looked at me bleakly, and slowly put the book down on the
library table with shaky fingers.

*

Christina       vqrw76a@prodigy.com     Comments wanted!



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: VQRW76A@prodigy.com (MS CHRISTINA L KAMNIKAR)
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Mad Moon in Scorpio" (4/6)
Date: 05 Aug 1997 16:03:43, -0500

"Mad Moon in Scorpio"
by Christina Kamnikar
copyright 1997


        *       >       =       4       #       @       \

        Friday dawned, and I woke from vague dreams that left a cold sheen
of sweat on my skin, but no concrete memories behind. The feeling that
today was important, and that events had telescoped into an immediate
danger, was backed up by the day's horoscope: moon coming out of retrograde
into Scorpio, a warning of madness, passions flaring out of control, and
psychic awareness going haywire. //Great. More power to the enemy, whoever
that is...//

        Before I left for school I did two things; set the protections for
the students I was most worried about---Dave, Fritz, and Willow---and cast
a handful of bones on my laptop. It had remained off-line since before the
previous week and was probably still uncorrupted from contact with the Net,
so any reading from it *should* be trustworthy. The three candles I lit for
my advanced students blazed bright but hazy, with a strange gold ring
around Willow's, a relentless flickering of Dave's, and dark smoke rising
from Fritz's. I tried not to interpret any signs from their glow; as long
as the flames were alight, and as long as my students didn't come in direct
contact with the force causing the mischief, they *should* be okay. Fears
that it might already be too late were stifled and shoved in my sock drawer.

        The runes, when cast, sent me speeding for my car keys and out the
door, completely unwilling to stare at the video representations of the
stones for very long.

        //Hail. Thorn. Struggle. Destiny.//

        Like the Tarot cards I'd flipped over, they represented dark forces
closing in. The scary thing about the "struggle" stone was that it
suggested that the conflict had to be won before the battle; that I had to
go into it having learned some lesson, knowing how to win before engaging
the enemy.

        How could I do that, if I had no idea who the enemy was? Or what
they wanted?

        >       <      >        <       )       (       ^

        More problems awaited me at school. It looked like every major
computer system had been tampered with, and most of the minor ones too. The
shop class thermostat refused to fall below 93 degrees; meanwhile, the gym
was set at a toasty 51.  Both were on the main computer's environmental
system. The cafeteria cash registers were ringing up $1000 purchases and
giving $666 refunds; an order of 67 copies of the Necronomicon arrived at
Principal Snyder's office with a computerized receipt; and the public
address system took to playing spurts of Run D.M.C. and KISS during the
dismissal bells.

        Actually, I like Run D.M.C. But the rest of the faculty wasn't as amused.

        The Necronomicon delivery was what tipped me off to the demonic
nature of my enemy; it's a silly book, totally and completely unconnected
with true demon-summoning, but it has the reputation required to strike
fear into the hearts of P.T.A. and school board members. And from what I
know about malevolent entities, it would appeal to someone with a...
_perverse_ sense of humor.  Principal Snyder's eyes bugged out several
inches (okay, several inches *more*) when he saw what had been unloaded
into his office during third period, inspiring him to strongly 'request' an
audit of all school computer systems before the end of the day.

        //Thanks a lot, whoever you are,// I grumped silently, checking
over the school environmental systems program again, debugging as I went.
//Enough nuisance junk that I can't find the source of the trouble---
there's *got* to be something! Some way to track you down, you diabolical
little monster!// A mischief demon could wreak untold havoc without even
trying, setting off several Rube Goldbergs of cascading mayhem at once. The
news reports had confirmed what was happening on the way to work, with more
break-ins and Network crashes all over the globe.

        Maybe I could figure out where the problem wasn't, and work my way
backward from there. I was convinced that whoever-it-was that was visiting
from the Lower Depths of Bad Jokes had to have their stronghold in
Sunnydale, and probably the high school. Somewhere in the school's system,
there was a corner where an imp was giggling and planning new chaos while I
tried to clean up the messes.

        //Start with the only place that *hasn't* reported problems yet:
the library.// I grimaced as I squared my shoulders in front of the sanctum
sanctorum of Rupert Giles. //Possibly because our esteemed librarian hasn't
looked at the system since it was installed...//

        Giles was lecturing two of the students as I came in: "...*not*
suggest that you illegally enter... the data into the file, so that the
books would be listed by both the title and the author." Dressed in tweed
and layers despite the California heat, he sounded self-conscious and
guilty to me; and the looks that Buffy Summers and her friend Xander Harris
exchanged when I spoke a moment later confirmed my gut instinct.  //He's
getting them to do all the record-keeping work for him! He's probably got
Willow doing it too!//

        Why they would do Giles' work for him was fairly easy to guess:
given Buffy's reputation as a troublemaker, and Xander's equally widespread
status as class goof, he was probably one of the only teachers in the
entire school to cut them any slack. Which would have been admirable if he
weren't using it as a way to wiggle out of working with the brand-new
database I'd gone to so much trouble to install. Thoughts of the demon went
right out the window as I slowly approached an adversary every bit as
tenacious as the hypothetical demon inhabiting the Net.

        "I just came by to check on the new database, make sure your
cross-reference table isn't glitching... because I'm guessing _you_ haven't
gone anywhere near it." I smiled sweetly at the librarian, who returned my
sunny accusation with irritation flashing from behind his rimless spectacles.

        "I'm still sorting through the chaos you left behind you," Giles
retorted resentfully, as Xander and Buffy tried to hide identical
expressions of guilt. I wondered how many classes he'd written excuse notes
for in exchange for their help, then dismissed the question in favor of
grilling them before they escaped.

        "Hmmmm." I zeroed in on the students, pretending surprise. "You're
here again? You kids really dig the library, don't you?"

        "We're literary!" Buffy responded brightly with a determined smile.

        Xander swallowed, his dark eyes hunted, then blurted out, "To read
makes our speaking English good."

        I choked back a giggle at his comment as Buffy's blue eyes widened
in panic. "We'll be going now!" she jumped in, tugging on her friend's arm.

        "We'll continue this discussion at another time," Giles stated in a
significant manner, stuttering slightly as he emphasized the words, but his
tone didn't seem to have any impact on Buffy, at least. Xander appeared to
be still in shock from his own untimely comment.

        "I think we're done," Buffy answered Giles in a firm voice,
dragging Xander away, and muttering in an whisper that was obviously not
meant to be overheard: "'To read makes our speaking English good?!'"

        "I panicked, okay?" was his only response.

        Giles had already distanced himself from me before the two students
had exited the library. He thumbed through some of the over-sized folios,
ignoring me completely, appearing oblivious of my continued presence.

        I sat down at the computer and brought up the cross-reference
table. "This will only take a minute. I just have to check the coding,
we've been having some problems throughout the school---"

        "Quite," Giles responded dryly, not even looking up from his book.
"Do whatever is necessary as quickly as possible, Miss Calender. I need to
complete today's research without outside interference."

        I glared at him.  How could a completely inoffensive sentence
contain so much disdain? And how could a man who wasn't being an aggressive
jerk seem to invite a smacking on the head with one of his books?  I don't
know how he does it; it's just a gift.

        There's something about being overlooked that brings out the worst
in me, especially when it's by a hidebound conservative like Giles. "Why,
of course, Rupert." He stiffened at being called by his given name, and I
chortled inwardly. I don't think he likes his first name... he always calls
the rest of the faculty by their last names, and most of the teachers
return the favor.  I've never seen any reason to do so, since I happen to
like my first name.

        And okay, I'll admit it; I was a little gleeful at the opportunity
to remind him that we were colleagues, and he couldn't dismiss me as easily
as his students. "Far be it from me to show you an easier way to track down
the information you're seeking. I'll just verify that everything's
peachy-keen here, and leave you to do things the old-fashioned way. Sloooooow."

        "Accomplishing tasks with deliberation guarantees they're being
done correctly," Giles responded, sounding slightly nettled but still
condescending. "I see no reason to complete sixteen new projects only to
find that they must all be re-done in order to fix some 'computer error.'"

        //Points to you.// I grimaced, some of my annoyance with Giles
lessening as I thought of recent developments. The truth was, aside from
his universal dislike for all computers, Rupert Giles was a more than
adequate librarian; I don't know how he *did* keep all of the books
organized prior to the computer system. Of course, I doubt he'd tell me if
I asked....

        I didn't dislike Giles personally. It was just his attitude that
got to me. That head-in-the-sand, ignore-it-and-it'll-go-away reaction to
computers is such an elitist position to take, especially from someone who
I'd always suspected was one of the brighter members of Sunnydale's
teaching staff. How could he possibly hang on to those preconceptions
without even giving the new technology a chance?

        "Frankly, I do not see the point of having this database,
especially since the library possesses a complete card catalog, and an
up-to-date periodical index---"

        "Oh, you have *got* to be kidding me!"

        "No, I am not," he peered at me over his glasses, that stuffy
British voice becoming crisper by the moment. "All of the data has been
present long before the invention of that calculating device---"

        "Rupert, it is so much _easier_ for the students to access the
library records using the database as it's set up now." I finished my
double-check, pleased and angry to find that yes, it was fine; and no,
Rupert Giles hadn't made a single modification to it in a week. //I know
librarians who would _kill_ for a set-up like this, and he blows it off
like it's an unwanted imposition on his domain....// I was starting to get steamed.

        "I wasn't aware that we were here to make life *easy* for them."
Giles closed his book and went on to another without looking up at me.
"Surely we're here to force them to learn new things---"

        "You're a snob." So, I lost it. Just a little. I wasn't yelling or
anything, but he couldn't miss the fac that I was peeved.

        "I am no such thing." Giles stood up and stalked away from his
current stack of books sounding startled and defensive, which only made me
happier, and set me off on a bigger tear.

        "Oh, you're a *big* snob. You think knowledge should be kept in
these carefully guarded repositories where only a handful of white guys can
get at it!"

        "Nonsense!" Amazingly, Rupert was actually responding to personal
insults instead of ignoring me. I'd been sure that he'd stay patronizing
and distant; but attacking his personality got a reaction that challenging
his views didn't. "I simply don't subscribe to a knee-jerk assumption that
because something is new it's better!"

        Rupert was annoyed with me, but at least he wasn't blowing me off.
You can reason with someone if they're willing to listen, and I finally had
Giles' attention about something that really mattered to me. I can forgive
a lot when I'm being given a chance to tell my side of a story.  "This
isn't a fad, Rupert. We're building a new society here."

        I was so caught up in the specifics of the argument that I totally
missed seeing what was coming. Rupert came back out of his office with the
most intense expression I'd ever seen on him; more immediate attention and
emotion than I'd had any clue he was capable of.

        "Yes, a society in which human interaction is all but obsolete?" he
challenged me, his voice stuttering a little again from high emotion. "A
society where people can be completely manipulated by technology?" Giles
looked very slightly ill, very, *very* angry, totally stubborn, and still
civilized. "Well... thank you, I'll pass."

        //Whoa.// You know how it is, when you realize you've made a big
mistake about someone?  I was blinking, just... floored.  And now I
couldn't give up on the fight when I'd *finally* made some connection to
him, especially a deeply-felt one.

        Of all the objections I'd thought Giles would have, I hadn't
dreamed they'd be such humanistic, well-thought-out concerns about the
effects of computers; especially from someone who avoided them like the
plague. The cold, conservative, distant mental picture I'd had of Rupert
Giles looked to be way, way off-base.  //Have to keep him talking.// I
couldn't for the life of me remember what my next point had been, so I
settled for, "Well. I think you'll be very happy here with your musty old
books."   I tried to re-group and come up with a better comeback while
perching on the table next to some of the new volumes and flipping through
them idly, hoping for inspiration.

        "These musty old books have a great deal more to say than any of
your 'fabulous web pages'."  Rupert was back to sounding resentful as he
paged through some of the newer books; and the glare he sent me was full of
dislike. Great.

        "This one doesn't have a whole lot to say. What is it, like a
diary?" I asked, not wanting him to walk away,  needing to keep his
attention. Even with such a lame distraction as a blank book; besides, I
was genuinely curious---it was pretty old to have been kept untouched for
as long as it had been.

        I hate losing fights. Especially when I'm right. Especially when I
finally find someone who's willing to fight back.

        Giles frowned, seeming perplexed. "How odd." He blinked, gathering
his dignity as he took the folio from me. "I haven't looked through all the
new volumes.. umm... yet..." He flipped through it a moment, then closed
the book and looked at the cover---and that was when I saw the worry and
fear freeze his expression, his eyes fixed on the unfamiliar script on the front.

        "What is it?"

        I swear, he barely knew I was still in the room. "Nothing. A
diary... yes. I imagine that's what it is." I stared at him, but Rupert
completely missed it; he was already *gone*, and I continued to stare as he
just turned away from me and walked toward his inner office, taking the
book with him. "Well, it's been so nice talking with you."  All the
impassioned interest was gone, and his voice had become neutral, pleasant
and polite again.

        "We were fighting," I reminded him, caught between amusement and
total confusion at his about-face.

        "Must do it again sometime. Bye now," Giles called over his shoulder.

         //*What* was that?// I stood gaping like an idiot at the door he'd
retreated through, trying to figure out if Rupert just didn't like losing
arguments, or if he'd been embarrassed, or if the book had reminded him of
something he had to do, or.... //I don't believe this!//

        I gave up in frustration, abruptly remembering that I'd had another
purpose when I'd entered the library: to check on the reference table, and
find some trace of the demon. I left the library with renewed purpose, and
put all thoughts of Rupert Giles and his weird behavior out of my head...
after some effort. //How could I be so wrong about him? Why did I buy into
that uptight Brit routine, and totally miss the rest of it?... Later.
Things to figure out later, Nikki. Now we have to deal with a demon.//

        It got worse; the demon had gotten into the school medical files,
and monkeyed with the allergy records. Two kids were down sick because of
misapplied medication by the end of the day. Several parents were
contacted, given false alarms about their kids, scared out of their minds
for no reason when the phone system acted up again. And the Art Department
had to be evacuated when the sprinkler system went off, ruining several
months worth of the junior class's work and flooding the basement.

        Worse, I couldn't find Dave, or Willow, or Fritz; I'd been too busy
all day to have half a second to talk to them, maybe find out more about
what they'd been doing the last week or so. I had a horrible suspicion that
one of my students might have started this whole thing by accident. How, I
had no idea; but it fit in with their strange behavior of the last few
days... and the omens I didn't want to read in their candles.

        By the time I got home that night I was exhausted.  Henry V
stubbornly refused to reboot, so I cast bones over and over again on the
laptop.... getting darker and darker portents every time. I couldn't think
of a damn thing to do. It was the most horrible, helpless feeling----

        And then Dave's candle went out.

        "Oh, no. No, please---" I tried to re-light it, but every time I
did the wick would burn my fingers, and the smoke from Fritz's candle would
smother the light... I sat down, sick at heart, unable to believe that what
I was seeing could possibly be true. Willow's candle was slowly guttering
in a non-existent breeze too, while Fritz's blazed higher and higher.... I
ignored my ringing phone, swallowing back tears and anger. Putting out
Fritz's candle wouldn't save Willow; it was just a symbol, as Dave's had
been, until it was snuffed out. What was going on? //Goddess---//  The
answering machine finally kicked in.

        "Miss Calender? Miss Ca