peroxidepirate (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
peroxidepirate) wrote2009-04-20 04:41 pm
peroxidepirate) wrote2009-04-20 04:41 pm
Fic: Witches and Werewolves (part 1)
Title: Witches and Werewolves (part 1)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: These characters and their universe are not owned by me.
Characters: Willow, Oz, Veruca
Summary: AU: What if Veruca was a witch instead of a werewolf?
I.
"I think we should have a bake sale!"
"No, the newsletter is the most important thing. We have to get the word out to the sisters of the moon."
The redhead tentatively raised her hand. "Um, you guys? I have another idea. Why don't we try, um, spells and stuff?"
The circle went silent. All around, young women stared at the one who had spoken.
"Right," the leader finally said, voice dripping sarcasm. "Right after we fly away on our broomsticks." She tossed her long hair. "You know, some stereotypes aren't very empowering."
"And a bake sale is?" This speaker was a curvy blonde, sitting almost directly across from the redhead. She peered out from behind her chin-length bangs, eyes shadowed.
"Ok, ok, everybody quiet down," said the leader, faux-serious. "Veruca has something constructive to say."
The blonde looked up, no longer affecting shyness. "I don't, actually," she admitted. "I think you're all a bunch of wanna-blessed-bes, and you won't know real power until it sticks a broomstick up your ass. But if any of you are interested--" she gazed around the circle, and every other woman dropped her eyes in shock and disgust. Except the redhead.
The blond lifted one hand, fingers up, and slowly made a fist in the air before her. "If any of you are ready for real power, come find me." She opened her hand, releasing the threads of magic gathered there. The redhead continued to stare back.
Veruca nodded once, and walked away.
Oz was supposed to meet Willow after Wicca group, but when the meeting finally ended, she wandered slowly away without paying attention. She was almost to her room before he caught up.
"Willow!"
She turned around slowly. "Oh, hi Oz."
"Hi." He stared, expecting something.
"What?"
"You ok? You didn't hear me..."
"Oh." He'd called her more than once, then. "I'm sorry. My mind was kind of wandering."
"Yeah. Intense meeting?"
Willow shrugged. She didn't want to talk about it. "Kind of. It doesn't matter."
"Ok." Oz put an arm around her. "Sundown's pretty soon. Want to come over?"
"I don't know, Oz, I have this thing..."
Oz gave her that smile that made her insides melt, and touched his forehead to hers. "I wrote a new song."
Willow smiled back, but it felt a little forced. "Maybe in the morning?"
Oz retreated, physically and emotionally. "Sure. But you'll be there tonight?"
Willow forced another smile. "Of course."
She found herself wandering campus aimlessly, until she reached the science library a little before dusk. It was one of her favorite places -- a jumble of books and microscopes and skeletons and computers, arranged in finely organized chaos -- and on a Saturday night, she was sure she'll find it deserted. She figured she could just stop in for a minute, before going to check on Oz.
She opened the door, and through the dim light, the feel of magic -- raw power -- made her hair stand up.
"Hello? Who's there?"
From behind a bookcase, there was a swish of blonde hair, and Veruca came into view. "Willow. I thought you'd find me."
Willow swallowed, throat suddenly dry with... excitement? Anticipation? "What are you doing?"
Veruca smiled, hooded eyes promising something grand. "Spells. Want to help?"
Willow grinned, giddiness overcoming her. "Sure!"
Veruca held out her hands, and Willow stepped forward. Their fingertips touched, and suddenly the room was bright as day.
II.
It was well past sunup when Willow made her way home, and Oz was waiting in her room. "I missed you last night," he said.
"I know," she answered, catching his hand. "Only two more nights, and then--"
"No!" Oz pulled away.
"But--"
"You weren't there. You always keep watch."
Willow looked at him quizzically. "But you don't even remember what happens when you're a wolf."
"I know you're watching out for me. And I know last night, you weren't." He peered at her, inhaling deeply. "In fact, last night you were--"
"--In the science library. With some girls from my Wicca group. Doing spells, ok?"
He lifted an eyebrow. "Some girls?"
Willow rolled her eyes. "Ok, one girl. Veruca. But she's--"
Oz's eyebrow arched a little higher, but he didn't speak. Just waited for Willow to finish the sentence. And somehow, none of the words were right.
Willow shrugged. "She's Veruca."
It became impossible to read Oz's expression in his eyes or voice -- which probably meant he was mad. "That's an adjective?"
"She's powerful."
Oz blinked. "Like Giles?"
Willow thought about that. Giles was like Oz: undeniably masculine, with all that entailed. Strong. Restrained. Self-aware, self-contained, all the time. So freaking careful with her. Gentle. Distant. And she knew there was so much more, but she could never reach it. "No. Not like Giles at all."
"Hm."
There was an awkward silence, and then Oz shrugged. He slid an arm around around Willow and glanced meaningfully toward her bed. This was familiar territory so far, even as his hand moved down from her waist. They had been lovers for half a year now, and no one else was in the room.
But then his palm grazed a place just to the left of her tailbone, and
It's past midnight and before dawn. Willow and Veruca kneel on the stone floor of the science library, facing one another, eighteen inches apart. Their hands are held up, but not touching. Chalked between them is a runic symbol.
Together, they recite an incantation in Gaelic. The last line translates to, "Make manifest the fruit of our connection. So mote it be."
There is a flash, and Willow is knocked onto her back, bruising her butt and the back of her head in quick succession. Everything goes black.
She stepped away from Oz. "Later? I was up all night... I think I need a nap."
Oz tilted his head. "We can just sleep."
She shook her head. "By myself... ok?"
He waited just long enough to make it clear that he was upset. "Sure." He leaned in for one slow, chaste, and incredibly careful kiss. She tasted his lips on hers and
Willow opens her eyes to candlelight and Veruca's face looming above her. So the lights really did go out.
"It worked," Veruca breathes. She is holding out a perfect, round, pink-and-yellow peach. It's ripe, voluptuous, not unlike Veruca herself. "See what we made."
Willow smiles, groggily, and when Veruca brings the peach to her lips, Willow takes a bite. There's a downy peel, then tartness just under the skin, and a sweet and tender expanse of flesh inside. Juice drips down Willow's cheek, and it's so good, she's a little embarrassed. She closes her eyes.
A drop of liquid splashes onto Willow's nose. She looks up to see Veruca savoring the next bite of the peach. Her face is slick with its juice, and her eyes never leave Willow's as she swallows. Willow stares at the movement of her throat, the way the fruit's nectar glazes her chin, and the deep pools of her eyes.
Willow's still kind of stunned, but it's so easy -- and so nice -- just to lie there while she and Veruca eat their way through the peach. Willow closes her lips on the last bite, and leaves Veruca holding the pit.
The pit is black and twisted. Vile. Dangerous. Willow gives a frightened gasp, and then that wretched thing disappears in the blink of an eye, and there is only Veruca.
"I can still taste it, Willow," she says. "Can you taste it?"
They both lick their lips, still looking at each other, and Willow smiles. "I can taste it."
"It's never been this sweet with anyone else," Veruca whispers.
Willow opened her eyes. She was alone in her room.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: These characters and their universe are not owned by me.
Characters: Willow, Oz, Veruca
Summary: AU: What if Veruca was a witch instead of a werewolf?
I.
"I think we should have a bake sale!"
"No, the newsletter is the most important thing. We have to get the word out to the sisters of the moon."
The redhead tentatively raised her hand. "Um, you guys? I have another idea. Why don't we try, um, spells and stuff?"
The circle went silent. All around, young women stared at the one who had spoken.
"Right," the leader finally said, voice dripping sarcasm. "Right after we fly away on our broomsticks." She tossed her long hair. "You know, some stereotypes aren't very empowering."
"And a bake sale is?" This speaker was a curvy blonde, sitting almost directly across from the redhead. She peered out from behind her chin-length bangs, eyes shadowed.
"Ok, ok, everybody quiet down," said the leader, faux-serious. "Veruca has something constructive to say."
The blonde looked up, no longer affecting shyness. "I don't, actually," she admitted. "I think you're all a bunch of wanna-blessed-bes, and you won't know real power until it sticks a broomstick up your ass. But if any of you are interested--" she gazed around the circle, and every other woman dropped her eyes in shock and disgust. Except the redhead.
The blond lifted one hand, fingers up, and slowly made a fist in the air before her. "If any of you are ready for real power, come find me." She opened her hand, releasing the threads of magic gathered there. The redhead continued to stare back.
Veruca nodded once, and walked away.
Oz was supposed to meet Willow after Wicca group, but when the meeting finally ended, she wandered slowly away without paying attention. She was almost to her room before he caught up.
"Willow!"
She turned around slowly. "Oh, hi Oz."
"Hi." He stared, expecting something.
"What?"
"You ok? You didn't hear me..."
"Oh." He'd called her more than once, then. "I'm sorry. My mind was kind of wandering."
"Yeah. Intense meeting?"
Willow shrugged. She didn't want to talk about it. "Kind of. It doesn't matter."
"Ok." Oz put an arm around her. "Sundown's pretty soon. Want to come over?"
"I don't know, Oz, I have this thing..."
Oz gave her that smile that made her insides melt, and touched his forehead to hers. "I wrote a new song."
Willow smiled back, but it felt a little forced. "Maybe in the morning?"
Oz retreated, physically and emotionally. "Sure. But you'll be there tonight?"
Willow forced another smile. "Of course."
She found herself wandering campus aimlessly, until she reached the science library a little before dusk. It was one of her favorite places -- a jumble of books and microscopes and skeletons and computers, arranged in finely organized chaos -- and on a Saturday night, she was sure she'll find it deserted. She figured she could just stop in for a minute, before going to check on Oz.
She opened the door, and through the dim light, the feel of magic -- raw power -- made her hair stand up.
"Hello? Who's there?"
From behind a bookcase, there was a swish of blonde hair, and Veruca came into view. "Willow. I thought you'd find me."
Willow swallowed, throat suddenly dry with... excitement? Anticipation? "What are you doing?"
Veruca smiled, hooded eyes promising something grand. "Spells. Want to help?"
Willow grinned, giddiness overcoming her. "Sure!"
Veruca held out her hands, and Willow stepped forward. Their fingertips touched, and suddenly the room was bright as day.
II.
It was well past sunup when Willow made her way home, and Oz was waiting in her room. "I missed you last night," he said.
"I know," she answered, catching his hand. "Only two more nights, and then--"
"No!" Oz pulled away.
"But--"
"You weren't there. You always keep watch."
Willow looked at him quizzically. "But you don't even remember what happens when you're a wolf."
"I know you're watching out for me. And I know last night, you weren't." He peered at her, inhaling deeply. "In fact, last night you were--"
"--In the science library. With some girls from my Wicca group. Doing spells, ok?"
He lifted an eyebrow. "Some girls?"
Willow rolled her eyes. "Ok, one girl. Veruca. But she's--"
Oz's eyebrow arched a little higher, but he didn't speak. Just waited for Willow to finish the sentence. And somehow, none of the words were right.
Willow shrugged. "She's Veruca."
It became impossible to read Oz's expression in his eyes or voice -- which probably meant he was mad. "That's an adjective?"
"She's powerful."
Oz blinked. "Like Giles?"
Willow thought about that. Giles was like Oz: undeniably masculine, with all that entailed. Strong. Restrained. Self-aware, self-contained, all the time. So freaking careful with her. Gentle. Distant. And she knew there was so much more, but she could never reach it. "No. Not like Giles at all."
"Hm."
There was an awkward silence, and then Oz shrugged. He slid an arm around around Willow and glanced meaningfully toward her bed. This was familiar territory so far, even as his hand moved down from her waist. They had been lovers for half a year now, and no one else was in the room.
But then his palm grazed a place just to the left of her tailbone, and
It's past midnight and before dawn. Willow and Veruca kneel on the stone floor of the science library, facing one another, eighteen inches apart. Their hands are held up, but not touching. Chalked between them is a runic symbol.
Together, they recite an incantation in Gaelic. The last line translates to, "Make manifest the fruit of our connection. So mote it be."
There is a flash, and Willow is knocked onto her back, bruising her butt and the back of her head in quick succession. Everything goes black.
She stepped away from Oz. "Later? I was up all night... I think I need a nap."
Oz tilted his head. "We can just sleep."
She shook her head. "By myself... ok?"
He waited just long enough to make it clear that he was upset. "Sure." He leaned in for one slow, chaste, and incredibly careful kiss. She tasted his lips on hers and
Willow opens her eyes to candlelight and Veruca's face looming above her. So the lights really did go out.
"It worked," Veruca breathes. She is holding out a perfect, round, pink-and-yellow peach. It's ripe, voluptuous, not unlike Veruca herself. "See what we made."
Willow smiles, groggily, and when Veruca brings the peach to her lips, Willow takes a bite. There's a downy peel, then tartness just under the skin, and a sweet and tender expanse of flesh inside. Juice drips down Willow's cheek, and it's so good, she's a little embarrassed. She closes her eyes.
A drop of liquid splashes onto Willow's nose. She looks up to see Veruca savoring the next bite of the peach. Her face is slick with its juice, and her eyes never leave Willow's as she swallows. Willow stares at the movement of her throat, the way the fruit's nectar glazes her chin, and the deep pools of her eyes.
Willow's still kind of stunned, but it's so easy -- and so nice -- just to lie there while she and Veruca eat their way through the peach. Willow closes her lips on the last bite, and leaves Veruca holding the pit.
The pit is black and twisted. Vile. Dangerous. Willow gives a frightened gasp, and then that wretched thing disappears in the blink of an eye, and there is only Veruca.
"I can still taste it, Willow," she says. "Can you taste it?"
They both lick their lips, still looking at each other, and Willow smiles. "I can taste it."
"It's never been this sweet with anyone else," Veruca whispers.
Willow opened her eyes. She was alone in her room.
no subject
no subject
no subject