FF - A Wiccan Gets the Wiggins 5&6

[badbard <tiger_by_night@xxxxxxxxx>]

5

"Will, wake up. Willow. Please, wake up. I'm
scared. Willow?"

My eyes fluttered open. A vision! Buffy, leaning
over me, tugging frantically at the collar of my
sleeveless nighty, obviously in a hurry to...wake me
up. She was all rumpled. Her cargo pants were
wrinkly and her hair was generating enough static
electricity to light the badly lit Bronze. So how
come she made Cordy-out-clubbing look like a cheap
tramp? Apart from Cordy dressing like a cheap tramp
that is.

As my cob-webby head began to clear, I heard what it
was that had my best friend wide awake in the middle
of the night. A tapping at the window.

"Ohmigod," I screeched, diving between the sheets.
With a yelp of her own, Buffy joined me. "Where's
your phone?" she gasped into my ear. "We need to call
the police."

"Those blind twits?" I scoffed.

More of that insidious tapping.

"They have guns!" hissed Buffy, sounding as though she
positively relished the thought.

"Guns don't do squat against vampires," I reminded her
matter-of-factly. Buffy gave a nervous giggle.

"It's not the boogeyman, Will! It's probably a very
bad regular man who's been having some very bad
thoughts..."

I stared at her. I couldn't see her 'cause we were
huddled in the dark under the covers but I stared at
her anyway. Giles cooking in my kitchen hadn't been a
horrible nightmare...it had been reality at its
grimmest.

"You're not the Slayer," I murmured, barely able to
believe it.

"No, but I'll bet you the allowance I already spent at
the mall, the creep at your window is," whispered
Buffy, "or else he's the Ripper or the Chopper or the
Hacker or the escaped psychopath or sweet little
Jonathon with a machette instead of a machine gun."

"Rifle," I corrected absently. "Wasn't it a...oh
wait, WAIT! You remember that?"

"It's not everyday some wacko tries to kill me," Buffy
whispered back. "Scratch that. It is! Gimme the
phone."

A hand squirmed into our hidey-hole, offering the
requested item.

"Thanks," said Buffy as she took it. "Why can't I
ever remember the number for emergency?"

"Want the phonebook?" asked the owner of the hand.

"Good idea..." began Buffy, stumbling to a stop as she
finally registered the hand. Then she started
screaming her head off. Me, I was too busy watching
the world go blurry to make much in the way of begging
for my life.

"Check out the ninnys," mocked an unpleasantly
familiar voice. "What's the matter, B, too busy
shrieking like a girl to bother with killing me
again?"

Buffy's blond head emerged. I fully exptected her to
be decapitated. Instead she exclaimed less than
reassuringly, "hey, Will, it's only some weird
chick," as she whipped the covers off us.

"Faith?!" I choked out disbelievingly.

"In what remains of the flesh," confirmed the other
Slayer, sensuously sliding one hand along the veined
scars knitting her face together. I felt less like
fainting and more like throwing up. Faith lounged
against my windowframe, tight brown leather pants
practically painted on, dirty white crop-top showing
off more of her chest than a wet t-shirt would.

Buffy lounged back on the bed. "Look, sister, you're
robbing the wrong house. Will doesn't have any moola.
I know, 'cause I borrowed it all to buy the cutest
little dress. It's all slinky...why don'tcha try the
posh section of town? One street up. I personally
recommend the Chase mansion. If you hurry you might
be able to cart off some furniture before it's
repossessed by Mr Taxman." Faith frowned. She
looked off-balance.

"How did you get in?" I burst out, trying to keep her
off-balance. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was barely a
match for this wannabe. Buffy the...the Buffy, was a
mystery. Faith's dark, dark eyes slid over to take me
in, slicking down the length of my somewhat scantily
clad body, leering down Mickey's printed on boxers and
grinning toothily as I folded my arms over my chest
defensively.

"Too easy, little toy. I'm not a vampire, y'know. I
make my own invitations."

"Guess you have to," I bit back. "Since you've never
been wanted." Faith made an ugly noise in the back of
her throat as she advanced on me...until Buffy grasped
her forearm and pulled her up short.

"Nuh uh," she purred. "Here outside the Sunnydale
Asylum we don't solve our problems with violence. We
use counsellors and self-help books and if that
doesn't work we listen to country blues, the music of
pain and we commit suicide. Because that's what the
lyrics say will make it better, besides which, who
could live after listening to that crap?"

Faith gaped down at Buffy. She gaped over at me. I
made my eyes all big and tried shrugging. Inside I
was screaming for my Slayer to get away from that nut
before another trip to the hospital was in order.
Time to distract Faith with my Willowy Wiles. That
meant bursting out with the first inane thing to pop
into my head.

"I thought you were in a coma?"

"You thought wrong," snapped Faith. "It take's more
than B here stickin' a knife into my guts to see the
last of me. Just 'cause the great Buffy decides Dead
Boy needs a donor, don't mean he's gonna get what I
got." She grabbed Buffy by the chin. "Bad Move, B.
If you'd wanted it for yourself, you could've had my
heart." We both watched in bemusement as Buffy merely
rolled her eyes.

"I hope you don't mean that in the gunky literal
sense."

"What's your deal, B?" demanded the dark Slayer. "Get
conked on the noggin' one time too many? Don't you
remember me?" Hips swaying from side to side, she
moved in for the slay. "Are you in denial, B? You
can't deny me! Just say the word and we'll be 5 by 5
and rockin' for some 1 on 1 action." Desperate times
call for suicidal measures. The Evil One was in my
bedroom, trying to seduce my best friend before I
could get up the guts to give it a go myself.

"You SLUT!" I screeched, striding up and slapping
Faith across the cheek on Buffy's behalf. Faith bared
her teeth. Buffy's jaw dropped. My hand hurt.
Faith's right hand shot out to wrap around my throat.
My feet dangled two feet off the floor. If she
thought that was gonna shut me up...

"Skanky-ho!" I wheezed. "You have to slay something
to get a willing lay! Bitch in bad-ass clothing...did
ya hear your Sugar Daddy died?"

"Willow!" gasped Buffy, even as her own hand shot out
to squeeze Faith's offending wrist so hard the second
Slayer's fingers practically popped out of their
sockets. Or at least they did in my fondest
imaginings. At any rate, there was a definite
cracking sound. Faith said the F word. Faith dropped
me. Faith said the F word again.

Buffy was now between me and my enemy, bouncing
slightly on the balls of her feet, assuming fighting
position number four in my inner Slayer's handbook.
That is, the Getting Between Willow & Potential
Danger/Suitor position, only she hasn't actually used
it in a suitor situation. Faith was rubbing her wrist
and saying the F word. I was hiding gratefully behind
Buffy, torn between wondering at her Slayer-like
behaviour and studying her butt.

"You wanna fight me?" husked Faith, "you want another
shot at doing me, is that it? Fine by me. Let's see
if you have what it takes to become me all over again.
Forget wimpy Willow." She sneered in my direction.
"Just you and me, B. Slayer against Slayer."

"I don't know what you're on about, Wacko-woman,"
growled Buffy, "but let me tell you something. You
made a serious mistake, laying a finger on my Willow.
Do that again and I'll be shoving your finger where
the sun don't shine." Faith licked her lips.

"Yeah, B, I wish. I'll have some of whatever you're
on." Faster than bottled lightning her uninjured fist
shot out, heading straight for Buffy's nose. Faster
than the Flash streaking, Buffy blocked, stepping
forward smoothly to end it by kneeing Faith in the
stomach. Faith wheezed out the F word. She has a
limited vocabulary in certain situations. Life for
instance.

"Are you okay?" asked Buffy, turning to caress the
fading finger-marks on my throat.

"I'm fine," I squeaked, trying to ignore the homicidal
Slayer on my floor. With Buffy's warm breaths wisping
over my neck it was far too easy. I leaned into her
touch as my mind raced for the finish line of thought.
Buffy was fighting for me. Oh sure, Buffy's fought
for me before, lotsa times, but that was Buffy the
Vampire Slayer, defender of the yet-to-be-bitten,
protector of the living. This was 100% Buffy. The
very same Buffy who had just called me hers! The very
same Buffy who...whose back Faith was about to drive a
knife into.

6

I know I have a tendency to babble when I'm nervous.
As living on a hellmouth isn't exactly relaxing, most
of my conversation makes about as much sense as Cordy
being kind. So when Faith drew back the antique
dagger her precious mayor had given to her, my
thoughts practically bubbled out of my ears. They ran
something like this...

OhmiGOD, she's gonna hurt Buffy, I can't believe it, I
thought she had a major jones for Buff but than I
guess you must get over it when the object of your
obsession let's on she'd rather kill you than get it
on, unless this is like a sick mating ritual involving
blood, probably like Angel's idea of a romantic night
on the town and in that case, Faith is sicker than I
thought, although she looks pretty darn healthy
considering she's SUPPOSED to be dead, or in a coma
and no competition for me...I can't believe I ever
pretended to like her...

The knife came down and down. Faith's dark eyes
blazed with unholy glee. Somebody said a dirty word.
I realised it was me even as I started chanting a
makeshift protection spell, hands waving frantic
circles in the air.

-Ancient gods who ruled the Greeks
May you grant me what I seek-

The knife slashed across Buffy's back, tearing her
white t-shirt and staining it scarlet. With a sharp
cry of surprise she stumbled forward into me. Faith
let out a manic laugh and raised the knife again. It
was like a particularly bad horror movie and Faith was
like the F grade ex-porno actress starring. If Buffy
hadn't been bleeding on me I might have been able to
roll over and go back to sleep.

Relunctantly, I stepped around Buffy, letting her
fall, sobbing silently as I heard her crash painfully
to the floor. This was real. I was weaving my magick
circles, faster and faster.

-Though your followers died and you are gone
Lend me your power which grows and goes on-

Faith paused slightly as the power of the lost gods
rushed up through my veins and wrapped spidery
tendrils around my spread fingers. My insides felt
like they were being overcooked. My mind ignored
this, eagerly embracing the energy and what I could
weild with it. Demanding more.

-Deflect and protect
Buffy from Faith
Bend the knife back
Keep Buffy safe-

My head buzzed like static on that tv channel nobody
watches. My heart skipped wildly towards my destiny.
Iced blue streaks of energy leapt from my outstretched
hands and slid along the hungry steel of the daggar
Faith still held aloft. With a yell she let it drop.
It never reached the floor. Instead it ricocheted off
an invisible wall, rocketing past Faith's visibly
sweating face to embed itself in my bedroom wall, with
a most satisfying thunk.

Faith screamed like a wounded animal and fell to the
floor, clawing at her back.

I threw back my head and screamed my triumph. I had
done it! I had defeated my enemy! With a spell I had
devised out of desperation, I had tapped into a power
source that made me so much more than I had ever been
as plain old Willow. I was Wicca. I was the waves
galloping across Poseidan's ocean and Apollo's golden
chariot racing across the sky. I watched through
Aphrodite's dewy eyes as two lovers entwined about
each other and I roared for blood along with Ares as
two armies collided. The world was beautiful. The
world would be mine! I was to be worshipped. I
was...

"Willow," whispered Buffy and my head snapped back
into place. My eyes slid across the telling surface
of my bedroom mirror, noting with sudden uncertainty
the serious case of static electricity that made my
reddish hair poof up to the ceiling. Mottled blue
power throbbed in the veins beneath my skin. I met my
eyes in the mirror and they were the wrong shape and
colour and I heard voices laughing in my head as they
said things in a language I couldn't understand.

"Willow," whispered Buffy. The voices echoed my name
amongst themselves. The eyes that weren't mine
watched the Slayer in the mirror as she pushed herself
up off the floor. She stood facing away from me,
swaying slightly, catching her breath. The eyes that
weren't mine focused on the tear in the back of her
t-shirt. I felt the eyes widen. No wound. Not even
a scratch. Nothing but dried blood that didn't
belong. The eyes narrowed as they considered. Hands
reached for the comforting helmet that wasn't there.
Ached to lift aloft the mightiest sword. Reached to
draw back arrows and found only air.

> > From the floor, Faith moaned and flailed about. The
eyes of the strangers fixed on the way she kept
reaching for her back, straining to check or perhaps
soothe an injury that didn't exist. Then familiar
fingers cupped my cheek. Buffy was at my side.
Somebody else whipped my head around, insisting that
they get a good look at a power of this age. At a
Slayer.

"I remember when your predecessor drove a dryad bone
through the unbeating heart of my favourite bacchae,"
I hissed to her. Buffy had barely started looking
confused before she seemed to have arrived at her
latest slay plan. Assuming a defensive position she
thrust her jaw forward almost petulantly and demanded,

"who do I have the pleasure of booting out of my best
friend's body?"

I growled my fury and pulled my vocal chords in the
process. "I am Dionyssus and I will see you
desecrated at my altar for what was done to me and
mine by a Slayer."

There was a tiny fraction of my mind locked away from
the gibbering voices. This was where tiny Willow sat
at a tiny computer which hummed into life as she
started typing away at her keyboard busily. File
after file was pulled up. A search on Dionyssus
revealed one of the beasts in my head to be the greek
god of wine and revelry. Also the master of the
blood-sucking bacchae who were to vampires, what black
coffee is to decaf. "Jeepers Creepers," said tiny
Willow, deciding her only course of action was to play
computer solataire. She actually had a chance of
winning that. No wonder. A demon-god was using me as
a missile launcher. I was in trouble with a capital
TNT.

"I will repay the debt in kind," snarled the god in my
voice. I just didn't sound like me anymore. "I will
taste the blood of the Slayer and I will be avenged."

"Oh, get over it," snapped Buffy, rolling her eyes in
exasperation. "That happened like what, a gazillion
years ago? Get yourself a life. Oh wait, I guess
you're dead so you can't. Too bad. And while we're
at it, I'm not the Slayer. Whatever that is. Check
with the homicidal nut humping Will's floor. I'm
pretty sure she can fit you in...she seemed pretty
desperate tonight. She might even mount you...on her
wall."

We all turned to watch Faith's gyrations. For a
moment I thought I saw blood on the back of her tight
t-shirt but when I blinked it was gone.

"You will not lay a claw on the Chosen One," lilted my
voice. "In her I sense the legacy of my Amazon Nation
and with her progeny I will guide a new age of Amazons
to guard the forests that linger yet." Tiny Willow
did a search on amazons and concluded the new voice
belonged to Artemis, virgin goddess of the hunt and
patron to Amazonia of old.

Buffy snorted. "If I wanted to be a greenie-lovin'
hippy I would've taken career tips from Xander. And I
wouldn't be going out with Cordy until she agreed to
just say no to fur. Not that I'm going out with
Cordy. My point being that I wouldn't hold it against
her if she wore an extinct albino one-eyed shetland
pony provided she held it against me. Mmm."

Tiny Willow giggled at Buffy. This was better than
solataire. Heck, anything was better than solataire!

"The blood debt must be paid in full," hissed back
Dionyssus. "I will see this insolent girl fed in
dripping pieces to my children's kin."

"Not while she is under my divine protection,"
asserted Artemis. "Not while I claim her as my new
Chosen One."

I heard the blood bubble in my veins. It made me want
to be sick but I didn't have the luxury. No, I had to
watch my hands rise of their own accord, the left
withering up even as it sprouted curving claws, the
right glowing with a forest-green aura.

"Freak city, here we go again," sighed Buffy, taking a
cautious step backwards. "It's a good thing we get
free therapy at school. Oh wait. The guidance
councellor had his eyes ripped out. Plus I actually
graduated. Major downer. Except for the unexpected
living through Graduation Day part. I really got into
the mayor's boring speech being cut short."

Tiny Willow nodded wholeheartedly.

Gasping with pain and rage, Faith finally made it to
her feet and moved in, scar knotting as she glowered
at me. Then she caught sight of my morphing hands and
quite possibly got a glimpse of my disturbing hairdo
too. She swore. She started backing up. She dived
out the window, muttering threats. A couple thumps as
she fell off the roof later, we heard her fading
footsteps as she ran away down the road, displaying
the finest survival instinct any Slayer ever
possessed.

"Yes, Veronica, there is a Slayer," quipped Buffy,
staring at my wayward hands with just a hint of
apprehension. "Yes, Veronica, that's a glimpse of her
fabled butt we just caught as she sprinted out of
sight. No, Veronica, we won't be living through
Christmas this year."

TBC

***

Yep haven't got any more - prob be updated next week.

badbard


=====
Get an eyeful inside Gabby's BGSB!
http://members.xoom.com/badbard/

FanFiction Addiction? Satisfy your cravings
http://members.xoom.com/badbard/fanfiction.html

Join my update list. Mail bgsb-subscribe@xxxxxxxxxxx