BFA--I'd use the open source auto-archiver. It's just an option, one I'm not even certain on as it would require the addition of a cgi bin to our subdomain, and I don't know if we get that. But. Technobabble aside, it's a possibility.

For something like that, eFiction is a better option.

I'd like by author, multi-fandom, and could there be original things too?

Also, anyone want to give an old story a beta pass for me? I started editing, but it has become a rewrite, buffy/wes, not quite finished but in the next half hour or so.

Um, not that Giles actually speaks to me in my head. You know what I mean.

Heh. Sometimes Giles tells me to do things. Sometimes bad things.

I am Victor's ficbitch. I can't help it. I love his stuff. I'm aware he may not even want this attention. I shall continue to worship him and his works (not-so)quietly from afar.

Blushing now. Seriously, though, this has been more fun than I thought it would be, but it's got me itching to get back to my novel.

But do we want the fiction to be Jossverse/Spike-centralized? Or should it be author-centralized, and therefore open to all the fandoms we've been writing in? Would you prefer to have an auto-archive, so that you could update stories at your leisure.

Since most of what I write is crossoverish, I would vote multi-fandom and author-centralized. I think this is the first I've heard of (or noticed) the spikesbitch site. Would yrs truly be able to archive stuff there?

Edit: I'd also vote for auto-archiving.

Auto-archiving is a good idea, but do we want to consider keeping it so that only we can archive?

Also -- for any auto-system, please make sure you run the tech reqs by me before we get too deep into discussion, so we can make sure we meet them.

do we want to consider keeping it so that only we can archive?

Oh, right, sorry, I thought that was implied. If we were to do auto archiving (which to be honest would save me a lot of work) it would be hidden, only accessible to those who actually post in Bitchfic.

Also -- for any auto-system, please make sure you run the tech reqs by me before we get too deep into discussion, so we can make sure we meet them.

yup. I'm just getting a feel for the mo.

only accessible to those who actually post in Bitchfic.

Hmm ... how does one regulate that? Because hidden != protected, and protected's safer.

Well, offhand, just not posting the link publicly. Or doing something like sequestering the upload posting interface behind a pass-protected directory, similar to what shrift does with that-which-does-not-exist.

Um, not that Giles actually speaks to me in my head. You know what I mean.

He doesn't? So, this is abnormal? Huh.

Revisiting a story I started months ago. Set during Season 7, and liable to conclude a little while after it, but I'm running into difficulties: namely, I didn't see all of Season 7, so I'm liable to wobble away from canon in terms of mood and plot, I fear. Please to help.

* * *

The girls kept arriving, hollow-eyed and jumpy, like they were the tattered remnants of the Rebel forces and someone had declared 1630 Revello Drive a sun-drenched suburban version of Yavin's fourth moon. The house was filling fast, and the more of them arrived, the lonelier Andrew felt. It was like school all over again, only worse, if that was possible, because this was it, 24/7, no escape, and all his books and carefully labelled videos and the mint condition figurines, and all the magazines and fanzines and Top Trumps sets and all the things that mattered were gone.

And Warren was gone.

And it kept on not getting any better.

* * *

It was kind of ironic, how things turned out. He hadn't really expected to get to hang out with The Slayer, although when Jonathan talked about it Andrew had sometimes found himself swept along wistfully in his wake and had almost forgotten about The Plan. But here he was, with The Slayer and The Wicked Witch of the West and, and - and really, they ought to have a proper name, like the Superfriends, or the Justice League, or The Uncanny X Men, or something. The Stake Team, maybe. Or the Bat Pack, or, well, something. They didn't seem to understand that there were precedents, there were Ways Things Should Be Done. Although Buffy was pretty good at being the leader, he had to admit, even without having a cool uniform or gadgets or any of that stuff. He could see why they followed her. Still, Andrew occupied his mind part of the time with trying to design a cool outfit for The Slayer, and he was wondering how to broach the subject with one of the Slayer Wannabes, get them to plan ahead. Maybe even explain to them how useful it would be to have a sidekick who could raise demons and had some first-hand experience of Evil Genius-hood.

If any of them would just talk to him.

* * *

He almost missed Mexico, and who knew that that was even possible? But the thing about Mexico was that they were supposed to be outsiders, and so the reason they didn't belong was because they were foreign, rather than freaks. In a weird way they got extra coolness points just for being American. Although the locals still hated them, of course - but the thing was that it was like they'd chosen to be alone. It was almost a relief, although he hardly noticed it at the time, because everything else was so awful. Nothing had prepared them for it, and he'd never felt so exposed and vulnerable in his life before. It was filthy, and hot, and his skin was burned to a crisp straight away, and he was allergic to just about everything, and he hated hated hated Jonathan, who actually spoke some Spanish and kind of blended in, being all short and dark and annoying. Andrew spoke six demon languages fluently and he knew enough Kankanath and Fyaral to get by, but his Spanish was lousy and everyone took advantage of him, like he had "Hi, I'm American, Please Rip Me Off" tattooed on his forehead. The days were hideous and the nights were worse, torn between conscious terrors and broken nightmares of what Willow had become, and what she would do to them when she finally found them. And what she had done to Warren.

He woke up crying a lot.

The first time he saw Warren again, he thought his heart would burst with relief.

Now he was surrounded by English speakers again, back in Sunnydale, and everything was worse than ever. He'd never been so alone in his life.

He missed Jonathan, and he hadn't really expected that. It wasn't like they were friends, exactly. Not really. Not like him and Warren. God, he missed Warren. Warren was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing he thought of when he went to sleep. Warren would totally have come back for him if Willow hadn't gone all Terminator. They'd had a special understanding, like - like Starsky and Hutch, or Kirk and Spock, or Luke and Han; and Han wouldn't ever really leave Luke to handle Vader on his own, not ever. Warren wouldn't have abandoned him. Maybe Jonathan, because Jonathan was annoying and he didn't really believe in Warren. But he would totally have come back for Andrew. That's why it seemed so logical when he did.

Although, as it turned out, he didn't after all.

And now even Jonathan was gone, which was his fault, and the worst of it was that there was nobody to get stuff. Except Xander, who was quite a lot bigger than Andrew had realised - but he was rebuffing every hopeful overture Andrew made, and pretending that he didn't know the Batman from the Man-Bat.

Andrew got knots in his belly thinking about Jonathan. But it wasn't like it was his fault, not really. Warren had said - only it wasn't Warren, he had to stop thinking it was Warren - the First Evil had said that Jonathan would go to a better place and thank him later, and that it was all part of The Plan. Andrew had felt - needed. Important. Valued.

Loved.

And it had all been a lie. Some evil ghost thing was just playing him, and Warren really was dead and gone and not coming back. And now so was Jonathan.