From: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com (buffyfic-digest) To: buffyfic-digest@lists.xmission.com Subject: buffyfic-digest V2 #406 Reply-To: $SENDER Sender: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Errors-To: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com Precedence: bulk buffyfic-digest Monday, January 4 1999 Volume 02 : Number 406 In this issue: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (07/16) BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (08/16) BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (09/16) BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (3a/?) See the end of the digest for information on (un)subscribing to the buffyfic or buffyfic-digest mailing lists and on how to retrieve back issues. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 03 Jan 1999 21:07:43 -0800 From: "J. Jericho Born" Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (07/16) TITLE: "Flies to Honey" (Part 07/16) AUTHOR: J. Jericho Born E-MAIL: traction@sirius.com FEEDBACK: Please let me know what you think of my fanfic with some feedback. DISTRIBUTION: The author reserves rights on this story. Please do not distribute without expressed permission. RATING: PG Contains violence. SPOILERS: Spoilers to previous fanfic. If you would like to read the preceding story you can download it at < http://www.sirius.com/~traction/buffy >. DESCRIPTION: The sequel to "The Necromancer". DISCLAIMER: The writer of this unauthorized fan fiction is not affiliated with any of the parties involved in the making of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and whomever else the lawyers may deem fit, they are used without permission. Technically that is not legal, but I'm not anticipating any law suits. This work, the plot line, and the characters introduced that are not already featured on Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the work of Joshua Jericho Born, Copyright 1998. ============== Scene 6 "Wow," said an intrigued Willow, her voice tapering the one syllable word. She eagerly punched away at the page down key of her laptop. Curious, Xander leaned over from the other side of the Library table. "What are you looking at?" he asked. "Well, I found out a way to hopefully change Oz back to a human, but it kind of needs a little hellfire to work," explained Willow readily. "So are you reading up on hellfire?" further asked Xander. "Well, no. There wasn't much known about hellfire, so I started reading on how a necromancer becomes a necromancer. This is pretty sad," Willow said, eyeing the screen in front of her. Xander comforted, "Come on, Willow, you're not being that desperate." "I meant how they become a necromancer is sad," Willow chastised. She questioned, "Did you know that when a necromancer seeks an apprentice he looks for people in the most vulnerable, frustrated walks of life?" "No, but it makes sense. Who better to become an ultra bad villian guy then someone who can't even get a girl to notice him," Xander commented. He continued, accelerating into a ramble, "And then when she does she only thinks he's a pathetic loser. Finally, when she get's over how demeaning it is to be seen with him she puts him down at every opportunity to make herself feel important. But, I'm a man who has feelings, too. I'm not just her whipping boy-" Xander interuppted himself, "What were we talking about again?" "Like I was saying. They find someone who's already sick of the world and come to him in a nightmare. They torture that person in his sleep by showing him the most grusome horrors of man's inhumanity to man. By the time the dream is over he's an even more broken soul. Only after that do they offer apprenticeship," described Willow. "Wow, and I thought colleges had aggresive recruiting programs," wryly joked Xander. "This is like our first villian with a sob story. I mean, vampires get sired and then they're vampires. Demons are demons. But, this guy is a human being who's had a past and a childhood and developed in the monster that he is," Willow observed with a touch of compassion. "Well that doesn't change the fact that he is the monster that he is. Right now, this guy being a vegetable is justice," redirected Xander. "I guess. But, can you imagine how horrible his life must have been for a necromancer to pick him for an apprentice and, more importantly, for him to accept," offered Willow. "You're not getting all soft on him are you?" Xander questioned. "No. It's just that the more I learn about where Abel's coming from, the harder it is for me to hate him," answered Willow. Xander nodded empathically and closed with Willow in friendship. "Will, you've got a bigger heart than most," he earnestly complemented. "Hey, guys," greeted Buffy, emerging from Giles' office. "Buffy-" began Willow, but she was cut short. "I've thought about what you said and I've finally really got my priorities straight," interjected Buffy. "I'm sorry for being so stuck up before," apologized Willow sincerely. "It's cool. Anyway, there've been reports of a 'bigfoot' type monster in Weberton. It sounds promising so I figure after school tommorrow we can head up there for the weekend and see if we can bring Oz home," said Buffy, a mixture of emotions bled through at different times during her statement. "Great! I'll brush up on some witchcraft stuff, it might help us find him," Willow said excitedly. "What's this? My two best friends going on an overnight trip? Since I've got no plans, big surprise there, I must come along," Xander said happily. "I'm sure Giles would want to come, too. I mean, he likes Oz," added Willow. "Alright, it's a big Slayerette adventure then," commented Buffy. ============== ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 03 Jan 1999 21:08:54 -0800 From: "J. Jericho Born" Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (08/16) TITLE: "Flies to Honey" (Part 08/16) AUTHOR: J. Jericho Born E-MAIL: traction@sirius.com FEEDBACK: Please let me know what you think of my fanfic with some feedback. DISTRIBUTION: The author reserves rights on this story. Please do not distribute without expressed permission. RATING: PG Contains violence. SPOILERS: Spoilers to previous fanfic. If you would like to read the preceding story you can download it at < http://www.sirius.com/~traction/buffy >. DESCRIPTION: The sequel to "The Necromancer". DISCLAIMER: The writer of this unauthorized fan fiction is not affiliated with any of the parties involved in the making of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and whomever else the lawyers may deem fit, they are used without permission. Technically that is not legal, but I'm not anticipating any law suits. This work, the plot line, and the characters introduced that are not already featured on Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the work of Joshua Jericho Born, Copyright 1998. ============== Scene 7 "Are you sure Oz won't mind us borrowing his van?" quieried Cordelia from behind her omnipresent sunglasses. She and Xander were snug in the back of the aforementioned V.W. wagon, relishing the German proclivity toward comfort and Oz's sense of exotic decor. "Considering the fact that we're going to use it to rescue him from a life of chasing cats and sniffing rears, I don't think he'll mind one bit," quipped Xander. He surveyed the front of Buffy's house idly. "Where did the Buffster go off to?" Xander asked curiously. "Willow needed some help carrying some magic paraphenalia. They should be back shortly," answered Giles, authoratively seated behind the vehicle's steering wheel. "What do you think about Willow getting into the whole witch thing? I mean, sure if you don't have that great of a social life you need something to pass the time, but witchcraft? Whatever happend to collecting stamps?" inquired Cordelia. "Nothing better than a hobby straight from the Patridge Family to keep you awake into the wee hours of the night," humorously commented Xander. "Ok, so she could collect Backstreet Boys posters or something. But, you get my point," appended Cordelia. "I don't know if it's very healthy," replied Giles. He gazed out the windshield thoughtfully and continued, "The black arts can be a slippery slope into untold darkness. Perhaps encountering this necromancer has shown her what evil lies at the arcane art's most extreme." "Mr. Giles," called out Buffy's mother. The front driver's side window rolled down swiftly at her greeting. "Oh, hello, Joyce," responded Giles plesantly. "Now, Buffy already gave you her part of the motel money. Is there anything I can give you towards food?" questioned mom. "Don't worry about it, hopefully we won't be more than a day. We're all eager to retrieve Oz and revel in his company once more," Giles explained. Buffy's mother was hardly comforted; she didn't seem very pleased with this road trip at all. "Who would of thought Willow would be dating a werewolf. She seems like such a nice girl," mom commented. "I can assure you that Oz is quite a decent young man," said Giles. "Of course," affirmed Joyce, she broke her pessimistic glare with a polite smile. "Oh, here come Buffy and Willow now," Joyce said with a gesturing glance. One could hardly make out the image of the duo of friends as they strolled up the quiet Sunnydale street for they were practically buried in various bags, boxes, and backpacks. Joyce openend the van door for her daughter and friend, their cargo threatening to eclipse its capacity. "Whoa, what is all this stuff?" cried out Cordelia as she moved to make room. "I wanted to be as prepared as I could," Willow said, tossing her heavy burden onto the van floor. "And them some," Buffy added while doing the same to her load. ============== ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 03 Jan 1999 21:10:14 -0800 From: "J. Jericho Born" Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Flies to Honey" sequel to "The Necromancer" (09/16) TITLE: "Flies to Honey" (Part 09/16) AUTHOR: J. Jericho Born E-MAIL: traction@sirius.com FEEDBACK: Please let me know what you think of my fanfic with some feedback. DISTRIBUTION: The author reserves rights on this story. Please do not distribute without expressed permission. RATING: PG Contains violence. SPOILERS: Spoilers to previous fanfic. If you would like to read the preceding story you can download it at < http://www.sirius.com/~traction/buffy >. DESCRIPTION: The sequel to "The Necromancer". DISCLAIMER: The writer of this unauthorized fan fiction is not affiliated with any of the parties involved in the making of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and whomever else the lawyers may deem fit, they are used without permission. Technically that is not legal, but I'm not anticipating any law suits. This work, the plot line, and the characters introduced that are not already featured on Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the work of Joshua Jericho Born, Copyright 1998. ============== Scene 8 About an hour into the drive most casual conversation had been exhausted. What was left entailed mostly intense window staring punctuated by brief moments of thumb twiddling. The sleepy late afternoon sang Giles a lullabye while sluggishness crept in and affected Giles' driving. "I don't want to sound too mature, but do we have much of a plan?" Xander asked of no one in particular. The question awoke most of the occupants of the van, including Giles, which was fortunate because he finally noticed the sedan that had been trying to pass him for the past half mile. "What do you mean?" questioned Buffy. "Finding him is the easy part, but what happens once we do find him? 'Here's a milkbone, now be a good boy and don't be a werewolf anymore'?" Xander wondered. "Oh, don't worry, we can use that ritual that I discovered in Abel's dungeon. Well, it's not really a ritual, it's more of a potion splattering," answered Willow. "You went through the necromancer's lair?" inquired Giles with a touch of concern. "Only to find out how to change Oz back," assured Willow. "I thought you said you need hellfire for that ritual to work," Xander said, slightly abashed. "Yes, we do," replied Willow. "Don't tell me you've attempted to summon hellfire," asked Giles, concern mounting. "No. . . well. . . I tried researching it, but there wasn't much written about it; other than it's really nasty stuff," Willow conceded. "Very nasty indeed. You must be very careful with your endeavors into the black arts. Hellfire, the whole of necromancy for that matter, is a very dangerous vocation. Legend has it that few survive learning to summon hellfire, let alone wielding it," chastised Giles. "Speaking of which, why is it that Abel had his hellflame backfire?" wondered Buffy. Giles zealously jumped to answering the question, "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. I have speculated in my head about it-" His speculations were cut short. "It's because he made himself able to feel," interrupted Willow. She explained further, "When a necromancer artificially induces a sense of feeling he becomes susceptible to his own hellfire." "Where did you read that?" inquired Giles obstinately. "In that book 'The Lost Art of Necromantics'," answered Willow. "Oh," said Giles, proverbial tail between his legs. "So where are we going to get hellfire other than eating something with a lot of garlic?" questioned Cordelia. "Even if Abel were capable of having an actual thought right now I don't think he'd be too keen on giving us a helping hand," observed Xander. "Well if he were awake, let's just pause for a moment to mention how we so do not want that, then maybe we could set something up," Buffy offered. "Yeah, all it takes is for Oz to be doused in a few reagents and hit with a small blast of hellfire and he'll be cured. I'm the last one who would want Abel up and running, but what if there's no other way," Willow speculated. "Let's just worry about one thing at a time, shall we? We still need to find Oz," reminded Giles. ============== ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 4 Jan 1999 21:10:48 EST From: Titanic437@aol.com Subject: BUFFYFIC: Can't Hide the Past (3a/?) TITLE: Can't Hide the Past * AUTHOR: Shadows * DISTRIBUTION: Will ya do me a favor and agree to post this somewhere on your own little archive? Just ask me first. E-mail me at Titanic437@aol.com * DESCRIPTION: Ok, as I sit down to write this fic, "Amends" is the last episode that I have seen. I will be following the show from only up to there. Then my mind will have it's own play. Story: 15 years after my own little season three finale, the Scooby Gang finds themselves thrown together after something *very* strange happens to all of them. Chapter 2: Xander, Willow, and Faith get a little . . . well, ok, a BIG blast from the past. or blasted into the past. Whatever. 8 NOTE: Since I don't want to write "Young Xander" and "Future Xander" over and over again, and it doesn't look good, all characters from 2013 will have a F- preceeding their name, like F-Xander, F-Willow, and F-Faith, once they are in the past. The characters from 1998 will continue to be spelled like they always are. Or maybe I'll spell Xander with a "Z" just to spite all you ture watchers of the show (hmm, overused pun unintended). * * * Can't Hide the Past Chapter 2 Part A The library fell into silence. Xander looked at F-Xander with wariness. Buffy and Willow looked at each other with a sense of dread. Giles looked at Xander and made up his mind that Xander was to do no more research for awhile. "Wait, he can't possibly be me!" Xander blurted out with conviction, pointing at the imposter. F-Xander blinked and put on a stunned expression. "Why do you say that?" he asked, genuinely confused. Xander set his jaw. "I mean, look at him." F-Xander spread his arms and glanced down at his body. Loose black jeans and a form-fitting white shirt with an unzipped black winter jacket over it. "Those clothes match. I never match. And the body-just look." It was true; F-Xander was definitely taller, with broad shoulders and muscles, the kind of build that Angel had. "Honestly, would I turn out like that? And the face is completely different." The face *was* different, almost nothing like young Xander's, but the one thing that was the same was the eyes. Those were Xander's eyes, definitely. But Xander wasn't about to admit that. This was just too damn weird. "And the accent," Xander finished with bravado. "I'm not British." The other Slayerette's turned imploring eyes to F-Xander. He just looked back at them. "You don't expect me explain myself, do you?" When there came no answer, F-Xander turned to Willow. "Willow . . ." Willow took a protective step behind Buffy, afraid to look F-Xander in the eye. Buffy looked at him warily, not sure whether to wait and see if he would calmly and peacefully tell her why they should believe his claim, or whether should she force it out of him. F-Xander sighed. "Why should I expect anything else?" He moved back to the computer desk and sat on the edge where there was room. He held out his hand and began to tick off the things he said on his fingers. "A: Today was a lucky day. I dressed in the dark-again-and the clothes actually matched. My family was very proud of me. "B: I grew up. Rather well, don't you think? And I work out. Physi-um, much working out is done." He swallowed uncomfortably as an unpleasant thought surfaced from the recesses of his mind. "And the face . . . I had a car accident. It got bashed up pretty bad." His hand touched his face like it was a tangible reminder of the doctor's work. "And as for the accent-I'm always quizzed on that, I don't know why, it's not even that noticeable. I spent four and a half years in England. Never went away, the accent, I mean. But I don't say 'bloody this' and 'bloody that', or drink tea or eat crumpets, and I don't wear tweed. Ew. Never had a thing for crumpets, and god knows how many times I was made to eat those back in Britain." At that, F-Xander smiled, and the skin around his eyes and mouth crinkled in their tell-tale Xander way. Xander's already wide eyes looked like his eyeballs were going to pop out right on the floor, and Willow muffled a gasp. This really was Xander. "If you are who you say you are," Giles said, getting over the shock, "then we'll have to return you back where you came from immediately. Was it just him, or were they treating him like his younger self had brought home a puppy from the streets and an annoyed parent was casting the dog out again? "I was just about to say that," F-Xander said, keeping the question to himself. "But the word of the day is-how?" "W-well," Giles started, moving a hand to reach for his spectacles. "Research, huh," F-Xander said dejectedly. His shoulders slumped further. "I hate the library." ***** It was the night of the Winter Solstice, and she should be out there with Echo right now, right in that beautiful, empty, magick-filled prairie that had made them choose to live here in the first place, celebrating the birth of the Sun King. Unfortunately, most of the members of the White Rose Coven were spread out around North America, and they had had a hard time getting together this year. The coven was planning to celebrate together some time around the new year, in the ballroom of some unsuspecting hotel in a city that it was snowing. Possibly Chicago. MoonRaven had always had a yen for Chicago. A quiet shudder ran up the spine of Willow's back. Chicago . . . she remembered the last time she had been in Chicago. Hellmouth had been touring just after their first CD, and Willow was freshly scarred from that ordeal with her parents and still trying to get over from what had happened only three years ago. Her therapist was back in Florida, and both Oz and Echo had been a bit shaky on the decision to let Willow tour. Willow said she was ready, though, and that she could handle it. So off she went. She still remembered the scene. She and Echo were at the mall, window shopping because they had left their purses at the houses and hadn't felt like going back, since they discovered that little setback halfway to the mall. Their stomachs had been growling loudly, so they stopped by the food court, where they mooched off a ton of test foods. They were just coming out, licking the food from their fingers and giggling widely, when a wild eyed man in his late thirties had stopped them. "Have you seen a little boy?" he had asked them frantically, his hands flipping nervously at his sides. "He's about up to here-"he put his hand somewhere by his hip-"and he has shaggy blond hair and the sweetest blue eyes." He reached out and gripped Willow's arm, his eyes half-crazed. "Please, I've lost my little boy. You've got to help me find him." Echo had gently peeled the man's hand off of Willow's and dropped it, but Willow's arm was still heavy with it's feel. "I'm sorry, we haven't seen your son," Echo had said sympathetically, and then began to walk away, dragging a motionless Willow behind her. "Will you tell him to come back, if you see him?" The man called to them, his voice filled with despair. Willow couldn't help but look back. "If you see him, tell him to come back. I can't lose my little boy . . ." Obviously, something was wrong with this man's mind, but Willow was stung by his words nonetheless. Emotions had been hard to handle for her lately, and people were always in some state of depression or hunger or sorrow or despair or grief . . . she just couldn't handle it. That's what Echo and Oz had been so hesitant about permitting her to tour. And that's why she had fainted right then and there, and had to be taken to a hospital because she was having seizures, brought on by her fragile mental state. And that's why when Hellmouth toured, Willow always stayed in the hotel room. And that's why the only people she ever made contact with was fellow band members, close friends, coven members, and the occasional chip and cheery reporter. That's why she didn't like to be around people. So now she was standing on the balcony, hand and hand with Oz, staring at the horizon where the sun, in just a few minutes, was sure to make it's appearance. The sunrise was not only symbolic to the holiday, but a very romantic setting. Too bad that she was being plagued by unwanted memories. Next to her, Oz mistook her internal shiver for external cold, and took off his jacket and draped it around Willow's shoulders. It wasn't really cold, but the air conditioner that whirred away inside was blowing quite a current of air throw the open French doors (Echo had them installed: "Ooo, aren't they just gorgeous, guys? I want French windows in every apartment we're gonna live in!"). She knew that Oz was a bit chilly, what from him coming out with a jacket and all, and snuggled against, returning the little gesture. "Who needs a jacket when I have you," Willow said dreamily, closing her eyes for a moment as she listened to the beat of Oz's heart. It raced. "I was just thinking the same thing," Oz said, smiling and holding her close. He casually encircled his wife's slim waist with one hand and stroked her beautiful long hair with the other. He loved her hair, loved playing with it, loved touching it, loved seeing the light reflect off of it. It was his most favorite part of her . . . well, that and her lips. {And her heart}. "Same thing." Willow's smiled widened and blushed deeply, something she still did around Oz, even after all these years of being married. The sun was close to rising- she didn't have to open her eyes to know that the nighttime sky was already an array of deep oranges and pinks and blues. She could sense the magickal energy, like a train of power coming at her. It was a wonderful feeling-almost as wonderful as Oz's love. Almost. Oz was stroking her face now, ever-so-tenderly as though she were made of china and he was afraid she would break. "I love you, Willow," he whispered, and then rested his head on her chin, something that Willow's father use to do when she was a little girl. Her father was her big protector and hero when she was young; now that she was older, Oz was her hero, her protector. And so much more. "Oh Oz, I love you so much," Willow said, snuggling closer to . . . a rock? Willow opened her eyes wide and pulled away in terror. She didn't give a glance to her surroundings, just looked at what she had just been hugging. A marble angel, a beautiful piece of artwork that stood on top of a gravestone. Now Willow looked around, wide-eyed. She was in a graveyard. And not just any graveyard. She recognized this place. Sunnydale City Cemetery. "Oh darn," Willow said meekly, hugging herself and looking around wide-eyed. Graveyards creeped her out. Graveyards were spooky. She hated graveyards. Ok, so she was in Sunnydale. She could . . . perhaps, deal with that. She was a stronger, healthier person, but this was bad. Despite the fact that she had just been magically transported to Sunnydale, this was not Sunnydale, 2013. No, Willow knew that the city cemetery was most definitely burned to cinders. Yet, the cemetery which she beheld with her own eyes was most definitely *not* burned down to cinders. It was very non-cinder-y. Willow took a step back, and realized that her bare feet were digging into soft, fresh soil. She looked down and saw that her feet were covered in the dark brown stuff. Willow pulled her feet out one by one and shaked them free of dirt, stepping into the clean grass to the right of the grave. Then she leaned over to read the tombstone, one hand on the angel's wing to steady herself. She definitely needed the angel's support. Willow leaned heavily on the wing, her mind dizzy, her head spinning, her heart racing, and a cold pit of fear replaced what was once her stomach. This was too much to be bargained for. As Willow fainted across the grave, a shaft of moonlight from the almost-full moon above trickled unto the gravestone, shedding light on the marker. It read: ~Shelley Shovanak~ January 1st, 1974 - December 19th, 1998 ~May her guardian angel guide her to peace and eternal rest~ Uh-oh. ////****\\\\ End of Part A ////****\\\\ Feedback is, like, so way wanted. Especially from Marc, who's practically half-writing this story, what with all his questions that I have to answer! ~Shadows~ ------------------------------ End of buffyfic-digest V2 #406 ****************************** To subscribe to buffyfic or buffyfic-digest, send the command subscribe buffyfic-digest or subscribe buffy to majordomo@xmission.com. 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