|
Disclaimers; Joss gave us the lemons; I'm just making the lemonade. And don't worry, I'm using sugar. Spoilers; through the series finale, "Chosen". Keep in mind that I'm basing this on spoiler reports, not the actual episodes, so I may be wrong on some points. Rating; PG-13. Warning; there are some ugly descriptions of an ugly act at the beginning of this story. Sad to say, sometimes humanity trumps the Hellmouth for sheer evil. Author's Note; This is my pilot for a virtual Buffy-spinoff. Someone's gotta be first, right? Better me than some B/S-er! Pairing; None yet, but knowing me, Buffy and Willow are gonna start noticing each other at some point... Feedback; Please do. Flames will be subject to brief scorn, then deleted without ceremony. Summary; Buffy Summers, for the first time in her life, is free of her calling as the Slayer. But there is still evil in the world. Was 'Chosen' the end, or a new beginning? Created by Kirayoshi Willow glanced around the guest room, noticing the spartan furnishings around her; a sofa, a small end table, and the computer desk in the corner. Never thought I'd use the words 'Buffy' and 'spartan' in the same sentence, she chuckled to herself. Sitting on the sofa, she started to remove her clogs, when she noticed a photograph in a red lacquered frame. In the photo, Buffy, Willow, Xander, Giles, Tara and Anya posed around a barbeque on the beach just two miles north of Sunnydale, posing around the sandcastle that Willow and Tara had built together. Willow felt a tear form on her cheek as she recalled the crestfallen eyes of her lover when a high wave washed out the castle ten minutes after Riley had snapped the photo. Willow frowned as she recalled the time spent on the beach. It was one of the last innocent moments she enjoyed with her friends. Before Glory. Before Joyce's death. Before the magic betrayed her. No, she shook her head angrily, refusing to allow herself the luxury of self-pity; I betrayed the magic, not the other way around. * * * * * Two weeks ago; Willow closed the last of her suitcases, pressing down hard enough to latch the lid, as Kennedy stood in the doorway, her arms folded protectively against her chest. "Your taxi's here," Kennedy barked as Willow finished her packing. Willow didn't turn around to face Kennedy as she lifted the case off of the bed. "Thanks, Kennedy," she answered quietly. "So you're going through with this..." Kennedy paused, mentally searching for the apt word, "...quest of yours?" "I have to," Willow said plainly. "I explained this to you." "Bullshit," Kennedy snapped at her former lover. "All you told me was that you saw your dead girlfriend in a dream, telling you to get out of Dodge!" "I did see Tara," Willow defended herself, shocked by Kennedy's jealousy. In a small corner of her mind she cursed herself for not seeing this side of her sooner. "She spoke to me, told me what I already knew. I have to get away from LA, all the negative vibes. Between the Beast and Jasmine, not to mention Angelus's big comeback, the air around here is thick with dark mojo. I can't stay here." "So where are you going, Willow?" Kennedy asked sullenly, making only a token effort to keep the vitriol out of her voice. "You have a destination in mind? Or are you going to wander the world like Kane, until you're where God needs you to be?" "If you must know," Willow said levelly, reining her voice in strictly out of manners, "I am heading to Seattle. There's a lot of places there, where the local medicine men performed healing rituals. Lots of white magic floating around." "Not to mention lots of Buffy floating around," Kennedy accused. "I didn't have a chance with you, did I? Either it was Tara's ghost or Buffy's rep! Tara died in your arms, Buffy died to save the world, then came back because of you. How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?" "It was never supposed to be a competition!" Willow pleaded. "Please, try and understand, I have to do this." She sighed briefly as she caught Kennedy's eye, seeing anger there instead of the love she thought she had shared with the new Slayer before. "Please, I don't want to break up with you over this..." "You don't have to," Kennedy snarled. "I just did. Go to Seattle, go to Katmandu, go to goddamn Disneyland for all I care. Just don't be here when I get back." Willow lowered her head in defeat, as she wrapped her hands around the suitcase handles and headed slowly out the door. She walked out of the apartment, down the stairs, and toward the cab. Turning her head, she said, "I'll call you when I'm settled in, so you can send me the rest of my stuff." "Aw, and I was gonna have a yard sale," Kennedy said bitterly. Willow rolled her eyes, turned away from Kennedy and headed for the cab without a backward glance. Loading the suitcases in the trunk and herself in the back seat, she told the cabbie, "LA International, and step on it." With a slight smile, she added, "I always wanted to say that." The cab pulled away, and Willow sat quietly, her mind a jumble of emotions; her sorrow at losing Kennedy stabbed at her like a dull knife, not the sharp pain of Oz's departure, nor the all-consuming agony and rage at Tara's murder. If she felt any love from Kennedy, if the young Slayer had given any sign that she cared for her, Willow might have stayed. But all she felt radiating from Kennedy was jealousy and anger, resentment and recrimination. That erased all doubt from her heart; what she and Kennedy had wasn't love. "Don't be sad, sweetie," Tara's voice echoed in her mind. "You will find what you're looking for. I swear it." "And what am I looking for, Tara?" Willow asked of no one in particular. Tara's gentle laughter rang like silver bells in Willow's thoughts. "Sorry, babe, that would be telling." With that she was gone, leaving Willow alone, but not truly alone. * * * * * Willow returned the photo frame to the nightstand and turned off the lamp. "I hope you're right, Tara," she whispered as drowsiness weighed against her eyelids and she gradually succumbed to sleep. "You've never let me down before..." ======== "Mr. Harris," the brunette receptionist chimed sweetly, rousing Xander from glancing around at the gray antiseptic walls of the waiting room, dotted with a few small abstract framed paintings. Geez, get some throw pillows here, some earth tones, a ficus plant, crack open a window, something! Place looks like the inside of an iron lung in here! "Uh, yeah?" Xander asked absently. "Dr. Teng will see you now. If you'll walk this way," she beckoned for Xander to follow her. Xander smirked drolly, unable as ever to resist the obvious line. "If I could walk that way I wouldn't need the talcum powder." The receptionist smiled faintly; Xander figured she had heard that line more than once. "Right. Lead the way." The receptionist opened a nearby door, and ushered Xander inside. "Dr. Teng," the receptionist said, "Xander Harris, your four-o'clock appointment." The middle-aged Asian woman nodded warmly. "Thank you, Shanora. You may leave." Shanora closed the door quietly, leaving Xander alone with Miranda Teng, the doctor Angel had recommended to him. "Dr. Teng," he greeted her as she took a seat by her desk. "So, what's the good word?" "I have good news, Xander," Miranda announced. "When you and Angel first came to me two weeks ago, I submitted your name for a waiting list for eye recipients. And an eye has become available that I believe would be compatible for your blood type." Xander sat quietly, slowly measuring Dr. Teng's words, weighing them in his mind. "You saying that you can give me a new eye? A working model?" "I am saying that it is possible," Dr. Teng stated clinically. "I must inform you at this time that the procedure is not entirely foolproof, and that there is a chance that your body may reject the eye. However, I have had an 80% success rate with this procedure, and I have high hopes that it will work for you." "Wow," Xander breathed. "That's a hefty promise. But I understood that a whole-eye transplant wasn't doable, y'know, only a science-fiction thing." "It is true," Dr. Teng nodded sagely. "Conventional medicine cannot properly restore the damaged optic nerve or restore vision in a severed eye. However, as I explained to you when we first met, I don't practice conventional medicine." "Yeah, you mentioned that," Xander admitted. "Are you some kind of witch or something? Not that there's anything wrong with that..." "I do practice magic, yes," Dr. Teng answered in an amused tone. "And you realize that you just quoted a scene from 'Seinfeld', don't you?" "Yeah, just figured that out myself," Xander nodded, slightly shame-faced. "I was just saying that I've known some good witches in my time. My best friend, in fact. The thing is that she said before that mixing magic and medicine isn't the best idea in the world. I had a friend whose mom had a brain tumor, and Willow, that's my friend the witch, she couldn't use her magic to remove the tumor. And the lady in question was good to us, so it really hurt her to say that." "I understand," Dr. Teng spoke soothingly. "Your friend, Willow Rosenberg, am I right?" Xander's eyes snapped open at the mention of the name. "Don't worry, Angel told me about her. Actually she is well known in certain esoteric circles. As is Buffy Summers the Slayer. Anyway, Willow, if I recall, is a Wiccan. My facility in magic is of a slightly different discipline. At this point I usually go into a monologue regarding ley lines, or dragon lines, and earth energies, but you would really have to be into magic to appreciate it. So suffice it to say that like Wicca I draw my strength from nature, but in different ways. And yes, using large amounts of magic to cure ills or remove tumors is fraught with hidden dangers. My technique does not involve using such large amounts of magical energy, but smaller portions, discrete amounts combined with surgical techniques. I've spent many years studying the disciplines of magic and medicine, and have found similarities in both disciplines. Trust me, Xander. I can restore your eye, if you wish it. The decision is yours." "No decision, Doc," Xander announced happily. "How soon can you start?" "How soon are you available?" Dr. Teng countered. "Any time," Xander said. "Excellent," Dr. Teng nodded. "I'll make arrangements for you to stay overnight at Lady of Mercy General hospital, and I can schedule the surgery for..." She flipped through the pages of her desk calendar, looking for a free date. "Is Wednesday good for you?" "It's perfect," Xander smiled hugely. "The best Wednesday ever!" "Then get ready for a hospital stay starting Tuesday," Dr. Teng informed Xander. "It may take three days after the surgery for the optic nerve to fully function, so I'll wish to keep you under observation until then." "Do any of the other doctors know that you use magic?" Xander suddenly asked. "I'm just curious." "Only a few," Dr. Teng assured Xander, "and enough at higher levels that my unique practices are handled discreetly. I don't break any hospital policies and I'm discreet enough not to raise any alarms." "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Xander promised as he lifted himself from his chair. "I'll see you Tuesday then?" "I'll look forward to it," Dr. Teng answered, picking up a few papers from her desk and handing them to Xander. "Just make sure that you have these forms filled out. Nothing too difficult, just basic information. Oh and don't worry about the bill, Angel has assured me that Wolfram and Hart will pick up the tab." "Great," Xander smirked. "The last thing I need is to be in hoc to a vampire. Oh well, See ya then." "I'll be there," Dr. Teng announced as Xander left her office. The door latched behind him and Dr. Teng waited ten seconds to make sure that neither Xander nor Shanora would step back in. Satisfied that she would be alone for a few minutes, she picked up the phone and dialed a number. She waited through three rings before hearing the click of a receiver being picked up. "Greetings," the darkly rich voice cooed in her ear. "The operation is a go for Wednesday, Master," Dr. Teng said slowly. "Excellent, Miranda," the Master chuckled coldly. "So I suppose that I owe you an eye. Don't worry," he said, as he eyed a surgical scalpel in his hand, "You'll get it." He hung up the receiver, leaving Dr. Miranda Teng sitting in a near-hypnotic trance. And so will the new Watcher's Council, a madman named Ethan Rayne thought feverishly. But by the time they get it, it'll be too late! Ethan chuckled mirthlessly as he admired a statue of the Norse god Odin. Yes, I do love it when everything falls into place. TBC... "No growth without assistance, No action with reaction, No desire without restraint. Now let yourself go and find yourself again. There's a lesson for you." --Chow Yun Fat, "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" |