Hmm, I'm wondering if the concurrent murders aren't sacrifices of some kind.

Hmm, I'm wondering if the concurrent murders aren't sacrifices of some kind.

Hmmmm... Could be....

I didn't want to go too deep into the backstory of the world I've established in previous fics

Ah. I've read the first, but not the second, nor the one in the hands of Ms. Plei. I've been a little busy. I'll go back and read some more.

Ah. I've read the first, but not the second, nor the one in the hands of Ms. Plei. I've been a little busy. I'll go back and read some more.

Yeah, that's a serious problem--I'm referencing things that most don't have easy access to. I need to watch out for that. When my Web site revamp is done, links to all of them will be together.

Huh. Seems "The Ressurection Gambit" isn't there. Here's the link, if you want it: [link]

Thanks!

Yesterday's Guitars

Part Five

“Dear God, did I really live like this?” said Dawn as she ripped her room apart, quickly taking a mental inventory of what was at hand. The flimsy, bright-colored shirts, the aggressively cheerful CDs—CDs! She hadn’t bought those in years—the only weaponry being a couple stakes. She had to face facts, she was seventeen again, and not pleased.

“Maybe I hit my head when I followed Pavayne through that …”

She couldn’t even verbalize it. Pavayne was loose in the past. She didn’t know where, or why, or what he was up to.

“Fuck,” she thought, searching her dresser drawer for something that would help. One of the greatest murderers in history was at large, and there was no Council to stop him. No Wesley whispering instructions in her ear, no Xander…

And for the first time, she felt his absence, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. They’d been separated before, both in danger. But not like this. Not this far. The thought didn’t stop her long. “I love you, Xander,” she said, pulling her younger self’s phone book from the drawer. “And I’m going to get back to you. I just don’t know…”

His name was there in the day planner—a cell phone. She thought for a second, and remembered where he was back then. He was off in Africa, exploring ruined temples and tracking down new slayers. And Willow was in Brazil. And she and Buffy were in…

Buffy. Buffy would be able to help.

Dawn thought better of it. She couldn’t involve Buffy in this. She couldn’t involve anyone. The fabric of history was at stake, and to risk endangering someone so pivotal. It was…

“Hey!” said a voice from the other room, and Dawn instinctively spun. As she did, she realized her instincts were there, but her body wasn’t accustomed to them. She pushed the thought out of her head and reached for one of the stakes.

“Can I borrow some toothpaste” said a small, kind of whiny voice. “I forgot to bring some on the airplane, and I don’t have time before …”

“Andrew?” said Dawn, in surprise. She hadn’t seen him in years, not since the zombie overlords of Wichita…

“Yeah,” said Andrew, “Are you OK? Can I come in?”

“No! I mean, yes! Yes, come in!”

Andrew stood in the door, wearing jeans and an “Invader Zim” T-shirt. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he’d just gotten off a long flight.

“Thanks,” said Andrew. “I forgot to pack… why are you tearing apart your room?”

Dawn answered slowly, pondering her best course of action. She was adrift in time, trapped in the body of her teenage self, and needed to track down and stop a dangerous killer. She needed to be able to move, but she knew she didn’t have a credit card yet, and didn’t remember any of her old PIN numbers. She was going to need help, and she needed help that wasn’t going to disrupt history too much. Someone who is already going to die soon…

“Andrew,” she said. “Do you remember the issue of ‘X-Men’ where Kitty Pryde traveled back to the past to stop someone or other from being murdered.

Andrew’s face lit up like a Mormon temple.

“’Days of Futures Past’” he shouted. “I love that story! With the Sentinels, and Wolverine being all bad-ass. Well, I guess he’s always bad-ass, but he was…”

“Andrew,” said Dawn. “Shut up. I’m the Dawn Summers from the year 2023, and I need your help to stop a murderer before he affects the course of space-time, and I really don’t have time to make a lot of fuss about it, so are you going to help me or not?”

Andrew looked befuddled.

“Uhm, OK.”

“Good. We’re going to need cash, and weapons, and I need… Wow, did I really listen to that much Avril Lavigne?”

zombie overlords of Witchita

Hee! Oh, how I love that concept.

Someday, I will write the story of the zombie overlords of Witchita.

I love it Victor But there are too many t's in "Wichita"