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Title: IT Chapter: Eleven/? 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 <><><><><><><> Eddie took the new inhaler out of the prescription bag and tossed it into the nearby trashcan. He tucked it into his back pocket, and started to head down the street. The stray voice of his mother entered his mind. 'Eddie, what are you doing? Eddie, how many have I told you, always get a receipt, and a good boy always does what he's told, doesn't he?' He turned back and entered the drug store, waving absently at the young girl behind the register, and leaned against the counter to peer into the back, trying to catch Mr. Keene. Spotting the man through the cracked office door, he walked around the counter, willing to face the man's wrath. "...poor Eddie, if it wasn't for his damned mother he'd be fine." "What do you mean, dad?" "His mother is crazy, always forcing the idea of being sickly on him. There's not a thing wrong with that boy, at least nothing some time in the sun and a little exercise wouldn't cure." "Surely it isn't that bad?" "If that boy even bumps his shoulder, she rushes him to the emergency room, insisting that his arm's broken..." He backed away shaking his head. It wasn't true, it couldn't be true. His mother wouldn't do that to him, would she? He bolted out of the store, running headlong into someone; landing on his butt, he looked up and started to scream. A large hand shot out, punching him in the jaw, he rolled onto his stomach and tried to get to his knees, but Henry was on him, slamming him down onto the sidewalk. His arm making a loud sickingly snap was the last thing he heard before he blacked out... <><><><><><><> 'Damn my uncle, why do all the members in my family have to be obsessively religious, physically and emotionally abusive bastards?' She sped up her pace, tucking the paper bag of liquor into her black canvas army bag. She'd been through this procedure enough to know what to do. Her father was the same, get stinking drunk every Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday. Unfortunately, he sometimes forgot to restock, which meant her running to the local store, where her father's close friend was manager, to get his alcohol. Her uncle was the same. Instead of being bothered with letting her observe curfew, he sent her out in the middle of the night to run his errand. "Look what we have here, Barn? Dinner." "As long as it's fresh." She sighed at the two men who stepped in front of her, noting the ridges on their foreheads, yellow eyes and fangs. "I don't have time for this." She walked between them without any reaction. Somehow, after having to put up with Pennywise in the last two months she just couldn't bring herself to be scared or even surprised by a couple of vampires. "Hey, don't you know who we are?" one of them called, indignant at being ignored. She glanced over at them, smirking. "A couple of vampish James Dean, Freddy Krugger wannabes?" They shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "How'd ya know that?" "Simple." She reached into her canvass bag and pulled out the two Number Two pencils she kept for emergencies. Holding one in each hand, she fully turned and smiled. "Now, are you going to walk away, or will I have to beat you up?" They looked at each other, then grinned, charging her together. As they got within a foot of her, she thrust her hands out, the pencils going into their hearts and splintering. Two piles of dust blew away, leaving her thinking to herself. 'I'd better get some stakes made.' <><><><><><><> Willow leaned against the wall of the hospital wall between Bev and Oz, a position that seemed to have become natural for the three. She remained quiet as the large woman moved in front of them, as though to protect a dozing Eddie from them. She didn't allow herself to wince at the high-pitched voice of the hysterical woman. "GET OUT!! Eddie doesn't want to see again. He doesn't need you, he has me. You're the little devils that put him here to begin with. Because of you, he's laying here in paralyzing agony. He may never be able to use his arm again. He could even be dying. All because of you little terrors." "B-b-b-but m-m-ma'am..." The large woman jiggled as she waved her finger into his face. "Don't talk to me, don't you dare talk to me! You think I don't know about your little group? Well I do, I've heard the stories. Trying to corrupt my little Eddie, well it won't work! I won't let it. Juvenile delinquents is what you are! You and your two slut-fags." Oz growled at her, standing up tall. "Don't you ever refer to them as sluts. Apologize right now." "I notice you didn't deny the fact that they're dykes," the woman sneered. "Probably daughters of Satan, and we all know what dykes are like. With their diseases, trying to infect all the good, heaven-going, god-abiding people of this world. I'm already having Eddie checked, the poor guy probably has some leprosy disease because of you little bitches..." "Get. Out." They stared at the bed, where a pale Eddie was glaring coldly at his mother. "Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. My. Room. Now." "Eddie, don't you talk back to your mother! I know it hurts, but it's for your own safety. Now, don't you worry your head, I'll have security kick these nasty little demons thrown out." "You leave them alone, before I tell the doctor to take away your visiting privileges! They're my friends and I want to see them." "Eddie, you don't know what your saying. Your arm's affected your mind. But don't you worry, I'll take care of you and..." "No." "You listen to me, Eddie..." "I know about my inhaler." She watched as Eddie's mother froze in horror. The large woman slowly stepped back from the bed and suddenly regained control. "I don't know what you're talking about." "I know about it being a placebo. I also know that you need me to be sick." "Eddie, NO!! You are sick, you have asthma, bad, and..." "Leave my friends alone, Ma." They stared at each other for a long minute, and then the mother sniffed and left the room fast. Willow smiled at the boy and bound over to him, but refrained from leaping onto the bed for fear of aggravating his injuries. "How're you feeling?" "Fine. It hurts some, but not too bad." Bill pulled out a pen and signed the cast, his writing clear and eloquent in contrast to his speech. He handed it to Willow and she signed her name in small, neat writing and kissed his forehead affectionately. Oz scowled playfully at the hospitalized boy. "Hey, that's my girl you be a-kissing." Eddie met his scowl with one of his own. "She's my girl now." "Oh, them's fighting words." "Hey now, boys, there's no need to fight. After all, we know what dykes are like." They laughed at her impression, and one by one signed his cast. "Listen guys, I had a little run in last night," Willow added. "I-i-it?" She rolled her eyes and snorted. "Two vampires." The others gaped at her, before laughing even harder. She leaned down to see Richie rolling around on the floor gripping his sides. "Yeah, well, I just thought I should warn you. You guys might want to start carrying stakes around. One good shot in the heart and they turn to dust." Stan hit his forehead. "Oh, great! First we find out that the monster under our bed is real, now we find out so are vampires! What next, mummies and werewolves?" Oz popped his head up, all laughter gone. "Oh man, you don't think... I mean it can't.... It couldn't... No. I refuse to believe it." Willow patted his head like a dog. "Now now, boy, Mistress Willow will protect you from the big bad monsters." Oz rubbed his head against her leg and panted, barking and growling. "Great, I just created a monster," she muttered. <><><><><><><> Victor was known for following Henry around. A flunky, a groupie, but the truth was he was as crazy as -- if not crazier than -- Henry. He stood in front of the old beaten refrigerator and listened to the scratching and feeble barks inside. Back when he was five, his parents had brought home a new baby boy, his brother. For the first month he put up with crying at all times of the night, late meals because of his brother, late night feedings, but the thing that really hurt was that his parents didn't have any more time for him. A couple of times Victor went into the nursery and just stood there staring at the little troublemaker, trying to figure out what his parents could possibly see in him. He cried, complained, whimpered, and stunk. But Victor could never figure out the solution to the problem, so he would leave and go watch television for a while. One night, he'd lain awake listening to the soft whimpers of his brother down stairs. Frustrated at being kept awake, he quietly made his way downstairs. The baby sitter lay over the couch, snoring, and the baby was trying to get to a quarter that lay a few feet away. Victor grabbed the silver coin and gave it to him, watching as the boy placed it in his mouth. He cocked his head curiously at the noises the boy began to make, his lips were turning a dusky gray, growing darker and darker. The boy was trying to cry out, but couldn't. He reached out and took one of the little hands, fascinated by the way they lost they strength, and became still. He stood satisfied that he could get some sleep and went back upstairs. Since then he'd grown increasingly obsessed with death, feeding poison to dogs and cats, starting to kidnap animals to torture and watch die slowly. Then lately he'd found this refrigerator. He'd stuffed the animals in it, and timed how long it took them to die. He opened the rusted door to see what the puppy was like...and screamed. Thousands of flying leeches swarmed him, latching on and sucking at his skin. He swatted at them, but found himself growing weaker and weaker. His legs collapsed under him and he fell back, unable to do anything but lay there in pain. Blood made them grow bigger like a balloon, until they would burst and start over. He tried to scream again as a clown kneeled over him, a long set of fangs sinking into his stomach. He tried to pass out, he wanted the pain to end, but something kept him awake to feel the blinding white pain. <><><><><><><> Beverly raced down the path, horrified by what she'd seen. She couldn't believe it, Vic was dead, or at least dying. She burst through the bushes at a full run, as everyone looked up she pointed to the direction she'd come from. "It..*pant*...Vic...*pant*....dead...*pant..." She groaned as Willow latched onto her hand and pulled her after the others without another word. The trip back seemed too short, but they stopped a few yards from the now closed door and where the body used to be. A large puddle of blood was covering a five-foot-diameter circle. "Whoa..." Richie muttered. They registered Stan leaning over to throw up, but no one moved to help him. Bill walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. Balloons poured out of it, floating up and around them. "L-l-l-look," he said, grabbing one by the string to hold it still. Words were written on the balloon in letters that were at once ghoulish and cartoonish: 'Walk away before it's too late. Pennywise.' "Great, another greeting card." Richie pushed his broken glasses up on his nose. "Looks like we're in for one hell of a ride." 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