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A Wiccan Gets the Wiggins
(and the girl!)
by badbard
(de_badbard@xxxxxxxxx)
See first part for relevant disclaimers and explanations.
* * * * * * * * * *
11.
Oz pushed me behind himself with one hairy arm. He had reverted into his half-wolf, half-man state.
"Stay back,
Giles emitted a mocking laugh. "Listen to the dumb animal, Miss Rosenberg. Relying on instinct isn't such a bad idea."
"Giles?" I squeaked again.
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" he roared.
I stumbled back, dragging Oz with me. We were in a bad, bad situation.
This particular incarnation of Giles was definitely slayage material and a certain Slayer was very elsewhere.
Because of me. Because I didn't want to ruin what I had for something I was too scared to hope for. Because I was weak, and wimpy, and always wigging, because I'm
"Who are you?" growled Oz, his hairy body only partially blocking my view of Giles. He was now leaning casually against the only exit, buffing his nails on his tweedy vest.
The librarian emitted a long-suffering sigh. "It's so true what they say - you can never go back."
"Who are you?" repeated Oz.
Giles ignored him.
"Here I am, doing my utmost to make a dramatic comeback and you moronic children don't even have the decency to recognize me before I eat you. Must be the schooling system. Needs funding."
"Eat us?" I squeaked, somewhat hung up on that point. "EAT us?"
"Do stay for lunch." Giles flashed an extra-toothy grin. "First I'll eat the little witch. Are you aware
magic sweetens the blood? Gives it a potent aftertaste which is more like an aftershock. I get
tingles just salivating over it."
"Who are you?" screamed Oz while I simply stared at the librarian. He licked his lips and favored me with a perky little smile and suddenly it hit me like Buffy on a vamp. My eyes began to
blur.
"No," I whispered. "You're dead. We blew you up. I watched them wash your intestines down the
storm-drain."
"How little you know," mused the Giles-creature. "And you’re supposed to be one of the smart ones. Dead? Ha ha! Me? Well, gosh, I don't think that's possible. Not with me being invulnerable and immortal and top of the polls."
"Wilkins?" Oz said slowly, realization cracking his mask-like features with fear. I didn’t know a half-werewolf could look scared.
"That's Mayor Wilkins to you, young man," griped the Mayor. "The youth of today have no concept of proper etiquette. I had such a hard time teaching Faith to wash the dust off her hands before having heart for dinner."
His smile became a little more on the enraged side.
"Speaking of my little darling, you should see the agonies I have planned for that bitchy blonde ex-Slayer who did her in."
My mental computer exploded in Tiny Willow's face.
Mayor Wilkins' reptilian body might be smoking goo, but somehow, some nightmarish way, he was standing in front of me, wearing Giles' body and a smarmy _expression_ to boot.
Even worse he apparently had no idea of Faith's current, 'not hurt and still homicidal' status and clearly wanted to hurt my Buffy.
Even worse I'd already done that for him.
Tiny
"W...waters of Lethe," I gasped. "Why? What did you d...do to Buffy?"
"I inactivated the Slayer of course," smirked the Mayor with gre
at
self-satisfaction. "First time
around the little whore got lucky. Second time around...well suffice to say, what second time? What bloody Slayer?" His laughter buffered painfully around my ears.
“What’s the matter, Miss Rosenberg?” he purred. God, he looked so much like Giles. It was hard to take.
“Don’t you remember how you helped me? Shut your friend down for good? Such a promising young witch…y’know, if it wasn’t for my Faithy not liking you one little bit, I might ask you to come work for me. Oh well.”
"But Buffy's still..."
Oz's furry hand clapped over my mouth and I burned red. I couldn't believe what I'd almost said.
What I'd almost let on to Public Enemy, albeit Servant, Number One.
"Yesss?" hissed the Mayor. "Oh don't back down now, young lady. You look adorable when you're smelling like fear. I could just...eat you all up." He laughed at his own joke. Creep! Incredibly scary creep!
Pulling away from Oz I burst out with a save.
"Buffy's still...still gonna get ya, you big, ugly, dumb, ugly, big ol' meanie!"
"Enough talk," growled the mayor and he bared Ripper's smile. "More screaming."
Tossing his glasses aside he leapt for me, hands stretching out to search for that crushing grip on my windpipe.
"Ahhh!" I screamed accommodatingly as I frantically scanned the room for a pencil. Old habits die hard.
I very much doubted the Mayor was gonna die at all.
"
As he seemed to have the upper paw for the moment, I obeyed. Yanking the door open I sprinted down the street, screaming for Buffy.
I needed her. We all needed her.
Huffing for breath, I rounded the corner and found myself in front of the graveyard, squinting my eyes against the glare of the sun sinking into the west.
I blinked. Night was coming. Already?
Within four hours of sunrise?
That wasn't possible...oh wait, I lived in Sunnyhell. Sure it was possible. Sightseeing the devil's holiday home was possible. Living forever was possible if you did alot of lurking and stayed away from charging the Slayer with the idiotic notion that you stood a chance in hell.
"Bu
ffy!" I
called desperately. "Buffy! Please come out and talk to me. Something terrible is happening. Buff..."
A hand clapped down on my shoulder. I spun around, prepared to fall into Buffy's strong arms.
Instead I found myself chin to fist with the mad Slayer herself.
"Faith," I garbled from where I flailed helplessly on the pavement. I could taste a bloodied lip.
She towered over me.
With great pleasure and deliberate aim, she stomped down.
Hard.
Her booted heel contacted my nose and my vision flared red for one shocking moment.
Blood spurted everywhere and I screamed in pain.
"Victim," she acknowledged harshly. "Oh dear, did I break your nose, Victim? Your fault. You let it
happen."
"Letmeebup," I gasped, trying to wiggle away from her. Oh God, the pain was so bad.
Faith's foot came down cruelly on my chest, holding me in place, pressing painfully against my sternum.
"I wouldn't go anywhere if I were you," she husked with almost tangible pleasure. "Not unless you'd like to be broken."
She got off on it, I could tell. On my pain and fear. She was sick and twisted, and I needed help, I needed…
"Buffy!" I screamed out and Faith's face twisted into a sneer.
"Oh come off it, Red. Like B's gonna hear you! Like she's even gonna care."
Hatred pooled in my soul, cloying and black as old dried blood. I hated Faith. I hated what she was implying. My nose was a red-hot fire in the center of my face and I could barely see past the tears filling my eyes.
"Ib wish youb had died."
My voice was surprisingly calm. Frank even.
Part of me cringed as part of me became as cruel as the ex-Slayer above me and a larger
part of me didn't even care.
Faith's mouth dropped open. Then snapped shut. Finally she shrugged.
"Alot of people hate me, Red. After awhile I thought, fuck, why not give them a reason?"
I managed to turn my head away. I felt frozen inside.
Faith's voice turned introspective.
"But Buffy liked me."
Then more loudly, insisting, "Buffy liked me."
Even though I wasn’t looking, I could feel her sludgy brown eyes boring into me.
"Until you went and ruined that for me too."
"What?" I gasped. The gall of her! The incredible made-up-reality of her!
"Youb aresh sobe off this planet it ishn't even the Solarb Shhystem. Faith, Buffy stobbed 'liking' youb, when YOUB went and bethrayed ush all. Nobe, not even then. Sheb couldn't orb maybe wouldn't see youb forsh your skanky self. Sheb stobbed 'liking' youb when youb kept onsh betraying ush. Kept hurting her."
"Me hurt B?!" screamed Faith, grinding her foot down in apparent rage.
I gasped for breath. If she broke my sternum, I was gonna be in serious trouble. I should’ve kept my babble mouth shut…
"She hurt me!” raved Faith.
“She killed me, for fuckin’-goodness. She. Murdered. Me."
"Then why aren't you dead?" Buffy stepped out of the bushes.
Oh thank all that is good! I focused on Buffy’s presence and ignored the horrendous pain and held on.
Faith said the S word. Typical.
"Well, Psychopath? Why aren't you dead?" Buffy grated, walking slowly toward us. Faith's dark eyes seemed to grow darker. Is that possible? Maybe the broken nose was making me hallucinate.
"Thanks to you, B," Faith crowed. I wondered why her voice was fading in and out.
She put a little more weight on the foot on my chest and leered at the girl she wanted to be.
"'Cause even the great Buffy makes mistakes."
TBC in 12.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is where I left off last time, so all new ‘Wiggins’ goodness will soon be coming up! I’m on tenterhooks myself. This is actually an interesting experiment because as I edited the pre-written parts, I realized that my view of the show and all the characters and even B/W is irreparably changed due to having watched so many more seasons.
It’s a very weird feeling. The characters have different psychology. Some of you longtime authors must have experienced the same thing. Freakerini!
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