Subject: [BA_Gutter] Fic: My Dear Miss Summers. Very, very anti Buffy story. Date: Mon, 19 Jul 2004 06:51:38 -0000 From: "philip_gavigan" My Dear Miss Summers; A BTVS fan fiction. Author, pgavigan. Author's explanation. Not all congratulatory notes are what they seem. An e-mail received by Buffy Summers on the morning of May 19th, 2004 definitely falls into this category. Author's warning. This is an extremely, extremely anti-Buffy fan fiction written the evening of May 18th, 2004, almost upon the closing credits of the final Angel episode. While I don't necessarily continue to subscribe to these feelings, they were mine at the time. If you cherish a more sympathetic interpretation of Miss Summer's European sojourn this is not the story for you. Author's thanks. To the redoubtable Tobywolf13 who, close upon the eve of her departure for locals far, far from home, generously edited the raw material that I forced upon her. Any praise is hers, all flames are mine. Author's note and legal disclaimer. At the end of the story. My Dear Miss Summers; Please forgive my boldness in contacting you this way, it is impertinent for a stranger to do so and rudeness is a trait that I abhor. In my defense, however, I felt compelled to write to you to offer my congratulations on your rather singular achievement. This is not, I would like to stress, in regards to your victory over The First Evil and its assembled forces, monumental as it was. With the anniversary of that cataclysmic battle and its literally earth shaking conclusion fast approaching I can only imagine how often your thoughts must turn towards those friends and allies who did not survive, especially as your late lover was one of those who sacrificed themselves to secure your triumph. It is rather in regards to a far more recent conflict and its outcome, one that was finished only within the last few hours that I write to you. One that I have just cause to believe that you are, as of yet, utterly unaware of, both to the nature of this confrontation and of your pivotal role in it. Before I go on, I feel some obligation to inform you as to how I obtained my knowledge of your situation. Some years ago I had severed all bonds between me and my previous identity to take up the recently vacated position of chief curator of the Palazzo Capponi located in Florence, Italy. I was obsessed then with the nature of time and had begun an Internet correspondence with the present Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge University. Later I was contacted by him in turn, asking for my help regarding the translation of several archaic texts of Aramaic origin. Intrigued by the esoteric nature of these works, I copied the originals before returning them. Perusing these reproductions at my leisure I was able to deduce that these were the algebraic formulas by which a single individual, one young girl among billions could be found out. Intrigued by the Herculean efforts being put into such a seemingly frivolous enterprise, I determined to discover the reason behind the undertaking. Modesty compels me to stress that it was much easier to follow the trackers than it would have been to actually find you by my own means. It has become something of a hobby of mine, since that fateful day, to monitor your exploits. It has not been terribly difficult to do so, the late Council of Watchers did not share your Mr. Giles' aversion to the Computer Age and it was relatively easy to access their archives. Later, after their unfortunate eradication, web logs such as your own were sufficient for me to continue my perusal of your life and times. Now as to the purpose of this communiqué; you are probably wondering what conflict it was that I referred to earlier. From the information generously provided by you, your sister and your associates, it is apparent that you have enjoyed a year of relative peace. Outside of a few scattered incidents of vampiric activity you have faced few perils of magical or demonic origin. Indeed, your recent relocation to Rome seems to have brought a measure of contentment to the lives of you and your sister, especially in the form of a new man in your life. Ah Rome, a capital of Romance and Intrigue, sometimes it is difficult to tell the difference between the two. But it is not the Eternal City that I wish to draw your attention to. It is rather the City of Angels and two inhabitants of that city that should concern you. If you haven't yet reviewed the news of the day, I would like to suggest that you now access the BBC News website, click on the "Americas" tab, and read the reports about a powerful earthquake and mob riots that erupted in Los Angeles late last night. You may also note that sightings of monsters, demonic legions and even dragons have been discounted as either hysterics or drug-induced hallucinations. I assure you, in utter and complete sincerity, they were not. The unidentified building leveled by the earthquake is, or rather was the offices of the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram and Hart, an organization to which you have/had a personal connection. Please do not waste precious time in a futile attempt to charge boldly to the rescue. He is gone, so are they all. They defied the will of the 'Senior Partners' and decimated the secret cabal by which they intended the destruction of this world. They undertook this awesome task in perfect understanding that to do so would bring upon them the never ending wrath of those shadowy figures. They did so, and did not make the slightest attempt to contact you or any of those who might have been considered their allies. Why do you suppose that was? What could have convinced Angel that, despite his involvement at the eleventh hour against the First, that you would have nothing to do with him and his battle against the most fundamental of evils? What could have driven him to such a state of despair? What else could have done this? Why nothing else but you. What has your attitude been to him and his associates since they accepted the management of that malevolent corporation whose resources provided the mystical amulet that was the means of your eventual success against the Hellmouth? How often have you contacted him over the past year? How often did you let him know that you still cared, if not romantically, at least as that of one sorely tired warrior to another? Your lines of communication prior to the abolition of Sunnydale, if not frequently used, remained intact. When the unfortunate Dana came into the power of the Slayer, the choice of which was not given to either her or hundreds of girls across the world, he asked for your assistance in the spirit of compassion and mercy. Your chosen representative was more hindrance than help, a betrayer who delighted in informing Angel that his orders to do came from you. That you "didn't trust him." A sentiment later repeated by Rupert Giles when Angel, desperate to save the life of one dear to him, was denied access to Miss Rosenberg's aid. He did inform you of that decision, didn't he? Mr. Giles would never take an action with such dire consequences without informing you, would he? Still, I don't believe that this would have been enough to drive a man such as Angel to a course of action that can only be described as suicidal in nature. One that he must have known would result in the most painful of demises if he was lucky. It must have been something quite recent that destroyed whatever final hope he might have had, to give up on the future, to give up on his one chance of regaining his humanity. It was indeed something else. It occurred just a few weeks ago when a series of contrived events were put into motion to lure him to a city that he had no intention of visiting again. A series of carefully staged manipulations that put him into a crowded Roman discotheque so that he could see a familiar and much beloved figure in the presence of another equally familiar but much less regarded individual. Yes Miss Summers that was indeed Angel whom you saw that night before you fled into the night, into the arms of your new Romantic Interest. An individual well known to your abandoned 'soul mate'. One who delights in playing games of humiliation with powerful men by the use of any and all means possible. I do not ask that you simply accept my assertions on the subject of your paramour. Instead I refer you to the works of the historian Ludwig Pastor. It was to him that Pope Leo XIII threw open the Vatican Archives in with the sole stipulation to "Tell the truth." This he did so with commendable skill, but he also availed himself of the opportunity to research one of the more enduring legends of Rome---one refuted to be as eternal as that city itself. The untitled work, Pastor probably found it politic to avoid being too specific, is a remarkable work of scholarship. Wisely consigning the pre-Christian undocumented legends of the Immortal to an extensive appendix, Pastor's efforts begin during the reign of Marozia, the beautiful, deadly Senatrix of Rome and one of the most powerful members of the house of Theophylact, that brilliant if twisted family that dominated the political fortunes of southern Italy for over five hundred years. Pastor was able to prove that not only was the Immortal, rather than the monstrous Pope Sergius, the father of one of Marozia's sons, but he was also her own biological father and thus had begot a son upon his daughter. Later your paramour served as mentor and whore monger to Octavian, his great- grandson who proved to be even more viciously banal than his ancestor once he became Pope John XII. Even after the fall of the Theophylact family the Immortal continued to dominate the Italian political landscape, supporting one family over another until it proved either profitable or amusing to crush those who foolishly imagined him to be their ally. He knew full well the benefits of divide and rule long before Machiavelli codified such behavior in his masterwork 'The Prince.' The Immortal was prominent in the sad affairs of the Cenci family that culminated with the murder of the father and the conviction of the daughter for said crime. Her execution was conducted immediately upon her sentencing despite the undeniable evidence of incest that had been introduced at her trial. Your current aficionado continued in his happy choice of career until the sack of Rome in 1526. Here he was seized by the Germanic Lutheran warriors of Charles the Fifth, who proved far less susceptible to bribery or threats than their Roman counterparts. Discovering, after extensive effort, that the Immortal was precisely that, Charles had him welded within a suit of leaden armor and deposited on the bed of the River Tiber. There he remained until fishermen accidentally snagged his prison with their nets. While the essential sadism of his character remained unchanged, the cowardice that his underwater sojourn engendered within him caused him to limit his activities to those unaware of his existence and solely within the confines of Rome. There is a rather amusing anecdote mentioned in the final pages of Pastor's work. It concerns the Immortal's involvement with the Order of Aurelius, the legendary vampiric clan. Several members of that unique tribe had visited Rome in 1885 and immediately drew the jaundiced eye of the Immortal. He waged a carefully constructed campaign of mortification and torture against the two male members, one that eventually culminated in the seduction of their female lovers. One might accuse him of a lack of originality, but sexual humiliation is the sweetest sauce to the Immortal. Your arrival in Rome must have struck him as fortuitous in the extreme. If you don't wish to take my word concerning your lover's exploits, might I suggest that you and your sister visit Florence and avail yourself of the resources of the Palazzo Capponi. The copies of Pastor's work that remained in Rome were all destroyed, either by the Immortal or the descendants of his victims who wished to be spared the further publication of the familial peccadilloes. Pastor's hand-written manuscript, complete with abundant notes, however, is secure within the vaults of that institution. I would suggest that your reserve rooms at the charming Emporium Hotel, the menu is superb and the staff discreet. By the by, you noted in your web log that you thought that you had seen Angel that night at the discotheque, which you indeed had. I do not wish to question you as to why you did not seek to contact him then and there. I realize that you were more likely too concerned with your current lover to spend much time worrying over the one that you had so absolutely dismissed from out of your life. When one is in love every second is precious, even if it would take so few to send off a simple e-mail. What I am curious about is why you didn't realize that there were two vampires present at that event. Admittedly he might have been hard to spot in the crush, despite the effect he has on those around him, he is --- was --- a smallish man and his crop of platinum white hair could have easily been overlooked. Still, those vaunted slayer instincts should have registered the presence of one so well known to you. I can only assume you were just too much into the moment to care let alone notice. Yes, Spike was there. I don't see why his return from death would be surprising to you, Miss Summers. I believe there are several precedents to this unusual event. William the Bloody was returned to this world several months ago by means of the gaudy trinket that took both him and Sunnydale out of it. If you don't believe me just ask either Rupert or Andrew. They can easily, if reluctantly, confirm the validity of my claim. Just a cautionary digression; have you considered that the unfortunate Andrew's lack of self-esteem and his constant imitation of the most powerful male presence in his immediate sphere might make him a less than reliable ally? Warren, Spike, and even Giles have served as his unwilling template, but who does he emulate while in Rome? Whose approval does he seek? Who does he truly serve? Now, as to the question of William's reticence to contact you. I believe the reason for his reluctance to share with you the glad tidings of his miraculous resurrection was quite simple. Those last three weeks of his existence, during those last days of Sunnydale, you turned to him for everything; his strength, his loyalty, and his love. These he gave to you freely because he understood your need to be loved not by supplicants but by an equal. But could he ever rid himself of the thought that he was your good soldier, valued but expendable? Did he feel that you accepted what he gave because he was there, available if not preferred? Had you ever given him reason to believe that he was merely a convenience to you? What were your last words to him, what did you chose to say to him only when you both knew his fate? You said something that he had wanted to hear, didn't you? Did you say that you loved him? Was it the truth? Did he believe you? I understand that you smiled as you looked upon the crater that had been home, grave, and Hellmouth. Were you realizing that a future unbounded by the responsibilities that had held you fast for seven years was now yours? Were you surprised to have survived the confrontation with so many of your loved ones safe and with you? Were you relieved to be free of a love that you knew you could never, ever return? I think I know. I also think I know why he stayed in Los Angles, away from Rome, away from you. Because, as long as he never saw you again, never touched you, never looked into your eyes, he could believe that you had meant it. He could convince himself of your love, as long as he did not emulate the proverbial moth and come too close to your flame. But the moment he learned of your involvement with the Immortal he abandoned his safe retreat. He came, he saw, he died. If not within the moment of the realization of your perfidy, he still died all the same. Two monsters died last night. Two monsters that had chosen to be much more than what capricious fate intended they be. They had become men and they had done so for you. But men do not live long without something to believe in, someone to strive for. And you unconsciously, carelessly, had taken both belief and love from them. Was their last epic battle a final act of defiance against the evils that you have all battled for so long? Were they still striving for redemption or was oblivion their sole goal? This is what I wanted to congratulate you upon. Seldom is it that anyone is the cause of the demise of heroes such as Angel and Spike. You have achieved this remarkable feat not once, but twice, and to the same men. That is a rare accomplishment indeed. At this moment, Miss Summer, I anticipate that you are in a state of emotional turmoil, temporarily stunned by the dreadful realization that you have been instrumental in the damning of Angel for the second time to Hell. No doubt, you will be upset that Spike has died once again in despair over your love. You must be confused as to what your first action should be. What would be considered seemly, what would be considered proper behavior for you to demonstrate at this sad state of affairs? If I might I would suggest that, once again, you smile. The comfort of tears is a privilege that you have no right to. Ciao; Hannibal Lector, M.D. P.S. Although I have no doubt that she will endeavor to do so nevertheless, please inform the redoubtable Miss Rosenberg that her attempts to trace my present location via this e-mail will lead her no further than the main computer at the FBI's Behavioral Sciences division at Quantico, Virginia. My spouse and I thought it an appropriate location to use to reroute the message. P.S.S. A cautionary note. The Immortal is known for his charm, wit, and physical prowess. Not for his sense of fidelity, consistency, or fastidiousness. While I believe that he is not susceptible to STDs there is no reason to assume that he neither carries nor transmits them. As you have indicated that you have experienced some degree of physical congress with him I would like to suggest that you immediately visit your physician and arrange a full physical examination. Just a thought. H.L. Authors note. All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Thomas Harris, ME, and their respective licensees.