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Title: IT Chapter: Ten/? Rating: R Spoilers: Up to and including the last season shown. Beta Reader: Scotty Welles Summary: Alt-Buffy/IT verse and crossover. What if Willow was the seventh member of the choosen group instead of Ben. Disclaimer: Nope, don't belong to me. <><><><><><><> Summer Of 1989 <><><><><><><> It had been a month since they'd built the underground club house, and two weeks since they'd made the silver balls. Last week they'd each taken a turn with Bill's slingshot, and Bev had been the only one to hit all ten targets. They'd all agreed that it would be best to wait a while before going after It. They were doing their best to relax and regroup, and it seemed that Pennywise was doing the same. He'd appeared to them once or twice more during the three weeks, but for the most part there seemed to be a temporary truce between them. On some level, though, Willow could sense the up coming weeks were going to be worse than ever. An out-and-out battle between them, to the death. The thought wasn't comforting, and she'd spent the last few nights writing notes to Jesse and Xander. If she didn't make it, then she wanted them to know it wasn't their fault. When she'd left for the summer, both boys had been panicked. Xander had come running over from the library with Jesse in tow, waving a Maine newspaper under her nose, screaming, "I won't let you go! Do you know that there's some crazy running around in Derry killing off the kids? It's been over a year and they still haven't caught the sicko!" When she'd refused to listen to him, he and Jesse had shared a nod. Jesse had thrown her over his shoulder and they ran out of the house with her, taking her to their semi-secret 'hideout' and tying her up. Both boys had sat there, apologizing profusely, explaining that they loved her too much to sit by while she got killed. Of course, an hour later, Cordy had burst in on them with their parents in tow. The aftermath had NOT been pretty. Mike sat down in the middle of the group, opening his father's album. "I found a picture of Pennywise in here." He held the album spread in his lap so that they could see. The picture was an old, thin piece of wood, carved in the image of the town. It was standing in the middle of the dirt street where the downtown area was now located; the canal was behind him, but that was the only thing they could recognize. "My father says it's over two hundred years old." He turned to another page, showing a black and white picture from 1856 that had been colored in for a cartoonish feeling. Again, it showed Pennywise in the background. "H-h-how o-o-old i-i-is h-h-he?" Mike looked over at him. "A lot older than two hundred. I was looking through the history my father has found out, and there's a cycle. Every 28-30 years, there are a serious of murders and disappearances of children. Followed by a catastrophe, ending the cycle. It goes back as far as the first settlers." The smell of yeast and popcorn filled their noses. In the distance they could hear laughter and music; as one they looked at the picture. The political parade was walking away, disappearing around the corner with the crowd following. Willow thought that Pennywise was going to follow, but he turned around, the makeup that looked like skin glaring horribly in the picture. He ran at them, climbing up the old street lamp, and reaching out, the plastic over the picture stretching as a human-sized hand pushed out against it. "I'm going to kill you all. I'm going to rip you apart piece by piece while you're still alive, and make you drink your own fucking blood, then I'll pop your eyeballs out and..." Mike shrieked and shut the album, throwing it away. "It's scared of us," Willow said, more sure than she was before. "It's scared, and it wants us to be scared, too." Stan stared at the album, shaking. "Well, it worked. I'm petrified." "Beep beep, Stan, beep beep," she muttered. <><><><><><><> Bill and Richie walked over the place they thought the clubhouse was supposed to be, but no matter how hard they tried they just couldn't be sure. 'Damn, Willow did too good a job of camouflage.' They stopped and raised their eyebrows at each other as they heard soft giggles coming from below their feet. Bill raised his hands and jumped over to the trap door. "It's 'em redskins. They's been-a scalping mah dog again. They must die." Richie spoke in a thick southern accent, spitting out an invisible black string of spit from a plug of tobacco. "Come out with yer hands up, or's I'll shoot ya." A deep voice yelled out at them, "Never, ya white-skinned murderer!" "If ya's ain't out by the time I count ta three I'll shoot." Richie stomped around on the roof. "One...three! Ya time's up, ya primitive beasts!" He smirked at the sigh he heard below. Beverly muttered just loud enough for him to hear, "You better let Tweeledum and Tweedledee in before they make this whole thing collapse." The trap door popped open and green eyes glared out at them. Bill jumped down, and snickered at what he found. Willow and Beverly were the only ones here, but they were sitting next to each other. Their faces were flushed, their lips swollen, and their clothes seemed to be crooked. Something had been going on down here... Richie dropped down next to him and immediately plopped down on Willow's other side, shooting a disapproving glare at Bev, or at least he tried to make it disapproving. It seemed more jealous than anything. Willow smiled over at him and pecked his forehead, calming the young boy down. "I was thinking, we should use this as a steam hut." "You mean like that vision quest you were talking about?" Richie asked. "If we plan on going after It, then we need to explore every possibility." "I-I-I a-a-gr-ree." The others nodded. When Big Bill said something you listened. He was the leader, the one that made the finally choice, and could veto any idea. If he agreed with her idea, then they were going to do it. "W-w-what d-d-do w-w-we d-d-do?" "Richie, you get a number of big rocks." She drew an invisible circle in the middle of the floor. "Make an outline of a circle with them, then fill it in. The rest of us will gather all the green wood we can find. Pile it up in the corner. The others should be getting back from lunch soon, so we'd better get started." <><><><><><><> By the time the others had arrived they had everything set up. The only thing they had left to do was light the fire. Bill stopped Willow and Bevy before they could drop into the clubhouse. "Y-y-you t-t-two s-s-should s-s-stay u-u-up h-h-h-here." Willow narrowed her eyes at Bill and scanned the others, until they had dropped their heads. "And just who the hell is going to stop us, Big Bill?" The sarcasm dripped around his name, making him flinch under her scrutiny. "W-w-we n-need t-to have s-s-someone u-up here, j-j-just in c-c-case." "Fine, then you can stay and we'll go." She tried to move past him, but he grabbed her arm. "Look, either you let me go down, female or not..." Again, he flinched in guilt. "...or I'll leave. And if I leave..." She stabbed her finger into his chest backing him up. "...then I won't be coming back." "Um, y'know," Stan said from behind Bill, "Willow's the one who knows about this stuff. She'd probably be more help down here than pulling guard duty." "W-w-w-willow..." Bill was considering Stan's point, but he didn't like his decisions being contradicted. "I've got an idea." They turned to an angry Beverly, who was glaring at the guys. "We'll drew matches, and the one who gets the one with a burnt head stays up here." When everyone nodded agreement, she turned her back. Willow glared harshly at Oz as he ducked his head. "Draw." One by one they drew, and one by one they held up unlit matches. Willow saddened as Beverly held the last match. Carefully she unclenched her fist, and held up the last match, unburned. "You tricked us!!" "What the hell are you trying to do, Bev?" "I did light it. See?" She held up her hand so they could see the ash covering the spot where the match had been pressed. A wind chilled them, with the feeling that this was beyond their control. Someone wanted all of them down there. "C-c-come on," Bill said impatiently. "W-w-we're w-w-wasting t-t-t-time." <><><><><><><> Willow leaned her head against Oz's shoulder and breathed deeply. The small beam of light coming from the five-by-five-inch square was above the smoky fire. The clubhouse was filled with thick, stinging smoke, scraping her throat and lungs. Beverly had left already, along with Eddie and Stan. The smoke seemed to be causing her eyes to play tricks on her, because it felt like the room was getting bigger. She hooked her arm through Oz's and held tight, as the fire moved father away. She could feel the effects of the smoke taking effect. She waited for the moment she knew was coming. A blinding light shot through the dark, bringing her back to reality. The trap door slammed back shut as Bill and Mike climbed out in coughing fits. She could hear the sound of someone retching above. Closing her eyes, she snuggled her head into Oz's neck, enjoying the presence of him beside her. She felt a shift in the room and opened her eyes, gasping at what she saw. "What the...?" She kept a tight grip on Oz's arm as they stood in a living room of some house. She could see an older version of herself sitting close to a blonde girl looking tired and worn. On her other side was an older version of Oz, wearing goth-style clothes, his hair bleached. Looking the same way she did. Xander was seated in one of the chairs, with a blonde curled up in his lap. A bleached blonde with an English accent was by the window, looking slightly scared. In a chair in front of them was an older man who bore the air of a librarian. "...records say that this Glamour was around during the age of dinosaurs. It was asexual and spawned a number of children that spread out around the world, creating all the different myths and legends. According the Watcher's diaries I've read, only the Chosen Seven can kill it, even then they must perform an ancient ritual...it's, uh..." He began to flip through a book, muttering quietly. "How do we find these seven, and am I one of them?" The blonde next to herself asked. The older version of herself sighed in surrender. "It's the ritual Chud, and no, you aren't one of the seven. In fact, there's nothing you can do it this case." Everyone stared at her as she rubbed her eyes tiredly. The librarian cleared his throat. "And how, may I ask, do you know all this?" "Because me and Oz are two of the chosen, and we've battled this thing before," said the older Willow. "I thought we'd killed it. That's how we knew each other before he moved here." Willow closed her eyes and began to retch... She opened her eyes as Bev called to her, rolled onto her back, coughing, and reached over to grab Oz's hand. They looked into each other's eyes with understanding. Their future depended on what happened next. <><><><><><><> " I signed the release waiver, so feel free to put things in my slot anytime." - Charles Angels. Odo: Madam Ambassodor, I'm not like you. Every sixteen hours I revert to a liqiud. Lwaxana Troi: I can swim. - DS9: The Forsaken. Aeris Jade Orion list mommy: erslash@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx erslash-adult@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx AIM: Aeris Jade ICQ: 51496263 AT&T/Pow-Wow: Jade Pow-Wow Community: Orion Web Site: http://members.fortunecity.com/aerissword/Index.html |