"Mission Statement" (Post-Season 6)

[Washi]

Ok, that is one hell of an update. I'm glad I waited!

And that was one hella cliffhanger. I won't dwell on it much longer, and I'll let sleep guide me. See? Lack of sleep + cognac = poetic Washi

I can't wait for the next part. I hope everything or somethings will be resolved.

[MellindraX]

OMG! That was so $*@&#^%$ mean!!!!

But you're going to fix it, right? Aren't you?! You are going to, right?! Of course, of course you're going to fix it...

*looks around her nervously and hyperventilates*

Willow can't be without her Tara!

"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one." - Albert Einstein (1879-1955)

[Bagheera]

Washi - OK, have a good rest, and I'm glad you liked it. I will post the next instalment in a few days - bit more to do on it, just yet.



MellindraX -

Quote:

---

OMG! That was so $*@&#^%$ mean!!!!

---

Can I refer you back to the title of this story. Is the "Bastard":

A) Spike

B) Joseph Withers

C) Rynox

D) Xander

E) The Wishverse-Cosmos

F) The author

G) All of the above



In the next story in this series, there will be, first of all, a Willow. No, that's not quite accurate. Not "a Willow", just Willow. Tara will not be in her immediate vicinity at the beginning of the story. Ready to slow down that breathing yet?



B.

"They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera--the Panther-- and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away." Rudyard Kipling

[the vamp nurd]

Quote:

---

the vamp nurd - Are you cracking your whip at me, hoping for a quicker update? Well, it's about ready. A few hours from now. Thanks for stopping by.

---

Honey I crack the whip for anything.



Love the end.



Past imperfect.



I agree

"He beats me with wet noodles!" Amber Benson.

"Bored now." Vamp Willow.



"Soul mates are either shot in the back or stabbed with a sword." Things I've learnt from BtVS

[chilled monkey]

Woah!



Neat update as always.



Can't wait to see what the new universe is like.



If the others do remember everything, I hope someone will give Buffy some grief for knifing that guy. He was a human after all.

Edited by: chilled monkey at: 3/21/03 7:01:34 am

[dekalog]

Hi Bagheera



First off I must apologize for my lack of and over your fic. I've been printing off and reading, and have been really busy lately but do want you to know - this is soooo good - thanks.



You tend to hit on several things that have bothered me about the joshverse, and have played with these ideas/events/underpinnings in a way which makes me one very amused and happy reader. Your subtlety in this amazes me, especially since the effects are so clear.



Second, I cannot wait for what comes next - I'm on the edge of my seat to see the 'new world' you will put these characters in. Plus as an added bonus a new take on the ole - how they met and fell in love - sigh (I love that part). It is my personal belief that I will never tire of tales of the beginnings of true love - the true legacy of W/T.



I also want to thank you for Faith - I always thought her character was in the end treated cheaply my ME - and am enjoying how you are playing with her ( - cough - ummm, I mean )



Anyway thanks muchly for the immense entertainment - I really love this story, and can wait to see where you will take us next.

[Bagheera]

the vamp nurd - What can I say, but "wh-toossh". And appearing below, very soon, the next story in this saga. Confusion, uncertainty and plenty of Willow-babble.



chilled monkey - the new universe is coming soon. And if you need a hint just remember: "When the going gets tough, the tough..."

Now as for Buffy and the killing of Joseph Withers...I have to go with self-defence. But that's just between you and me. No-one else witnessed what happened. Not sure who's available to dish out the grief to Buffy, but I'll see if I can cook up something.



dekalog - to you also. I'm delighted that you're enjoying this. And you're quite right that I'm messing with a number of aspects of the -verse. Just how many will become clearer in the next story in this saga.

You also touch on the question of how and met. Well, I have my own theory, which will see the light of day in a little while. I hope you like it, it seems...logical. To me, anyway.

I'm glad to find another fan of Faith. She's really grown up in this story, hasn't she? Though I suspect that if I played with her, I would lose an arm.

And where I will take you next is a mundane though possibly unexpected place. The next story in this series starts below, and it's called "Real We"



Kind regards,



B.

"They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera--the Panther-- and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away." Rudyard Kipling

[Bagheera]

“Real We”

This story is part of the “Mission Statement” story arc, and starts immediately after “Bastard Universe”

Disclaimer: Characters in this story belong to Mutant Enemy, but they failed in their duty of care to them. I have therefore appropriated said characters and will return them when I’m good and done.



To recap: This entire story arc takes place after the end of Season 6. Through a convoluted series of adventures, Tara and Willow were reunited. But then they discovered that the Sunnydale they lived in was actually a Wishverse, created by Xander Harris when he was about fifteen years old. With the help of Faith, Tara and Willow summoned the demon that had granted Xander’s wish, and destroyed his power centre. But after seven years, how different would the world be to the one they had known?



Part 1

Rating: PG-13 Adult themes



Next time you go shopping at your local mall, try this. Close your eyes for ten seconds. Stand perfectly still. Turn your mind’s eye within; screen out all external noises. Listen to your breath moving in and out of your body. Now open your eyes and look about you. Imagine that this is the first place that you have ever seen in your life; imagine that this is your life, that a moment ago there was darkness and nothingness, and now there is noise and light and chaos. People stream past you in every direction; people you have never seen before, people whose names you don’t know. Imagine that you have no idea who you are, what your name is, how you got here, and what you are doing here. Imagine that you are completely lost and alone in this strange, bright, noisy, alien place.



Then, imagine that you are no longer imagining…



“Where are you?”



“I’m sorry?” came a voice at the young woman’s ear. The slight, red-haired young woman started and turned to look at the speaker. She saw a woman of about forty with the face of a stranger. The woman was burdened with many bags of shopping on both arms, and looked hurried.



“Oh…pardon me,” the redhead managed to say. “I didn’t mean to…”



“That’s quite all right. Good day.” And after flashing her a strange look, the woman and her shopping were gone into the crowd.



The redhead looked around, lost. I thought there was someone with me. I don’t understand. She was standing in a busy shopping mall, but none of the shops were familiar to her, and the people charging past her in every direction were all strangers. I wasn’t here a minute ago. I was in…a place, a temple, there were three of us, and we called up a demon and we fought it. But that was just this very minute…how did I end up here? It was something about a wish that we needed to reverse. Oh this is crazy talk! Maybe I’m a crazy person, and I’ve just escaped from a hospital. Some cool sheets and rubber walls might suit me fine at the moment. She looked down. No, I don’t look like an escapee. She was wearing grey slacks and leather slip-ons without socks. Around her waist, there was a shiny black belt with a gold buckle, and on her arm there hung a small bag with a thin strap. Her bag and shoes matched. Looking further up, she could see a jacket that matched her slacks and a white blouse. Her clothes seemed to fit, and they were clean. No, not an escapee, unless I’m a very rich one. Maybe there’s something in my bag…I better go to the bathroom. They have bathrooms in malls, don’t they? I seem to remember that they do.



She looked around frantically, and she finally spotted an arrow with a sign pointing the way to the rest rooms. With nervous haste, she walked quickly in the posted direction.



The bathroom was cool and quiet, almost a place of refuge compared to the noise and bustle of the mall without. The redhead first looked at herself in the mirror. She was young, early twenties she guessed, of small to average height. She was thin and small-breasted. She had green eyes, shoulder-length straight red hair and green eyes shining forth beneath slender, quizzically arched eyebrows. Her delicate lips seemed to hover permanently at the edge of a smile. She was not bad looking, she decided. Maybe not classically beautiful, but possibly, maybe quirky good looks. She hoped. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, then frowned. That was a rather nice crystal she was wearing on a chain around her neck, she observed. It was somewhere between pink and purple, and as it twinkled in the bathroom lights, it almost resembled an eye. I think that was a gift, she thought. Unable to force any more memories out of her reluctant brain, she reached for her bag.



Aha. Well, here was something at least. There was a purse, and the young woman snapped it open with trembling fingers. The first thing she saw was a driver’s licence with a photo. The photo bore a passing resemblance to the woman in the mirror, and it said her name was Willow Rosenberg. Willow. The redhead grinned, and it was as if a tiny light winked on in her brain. That’s right, I’m Willow. Hi, pleased to meet you, she winked at her reflection. Can you tell me anything more about myself?



The address listed on the licence was a mystery, with both the street name and the town foreign to Willow. I thought I lived someplace else, she thought to herself; a town with a name that had something to do with the weather, or maybe a valley, or something. Oh, well, if I’ve got some cash for a taxi, at least I can get home. She kept looking. She found a couple of dollar bills and some coin. There was a credit card in her name. A gold one! I can’t remember ever having a gold credit card. I must have a job or something…oh, here we are. Tucked behind her credit card she found a couple of printed business cards with her name on them, and a cell-phone number. She worked for a company called 3S - Silicon Security Systems, and her position was - “witch”.



HUH? Witch - as in magic spells? Oh wait, that’s right, we used to do spells all the time…no wait, that was…oh, now I’m completely confused. In the world of the wish, I was a witch, and my spells sometimes got me into trouble, but here…wow, this is great that I can be so open about it. It’s good that people are accepting of wicca as a legitimate life philosophy and form of worship. I can even print it on my business card, because it looks like it’s what I do for a living. Oh, wait…



Willow had let her enthusiasm run off with her. How unusual, she smiled to herself. She looked at the card again, more carefully, and noticed the cases of the letters in her stated occupation. The card actually said that she was a “wITch”. And Silicon Security - Willow smiled wryly. Not a professional bad-ass spell caster, but an IT person in a computer security company. Oh well, it’s okay I guess, but witch sounded much more exciting. Maybe I still do wicca in my spare time or something.



Then Willow found something really intriguing. There was a piece of paper in her bag, a leaf torn from a desktop calendar, with the date: March 31. It had a dull quote from Douglas Macarthur on it, but there was also a very short hand-written note in capitals: “Happy, happy day!” The dot on the exclamation mark was a tiny smiley face. Willow believed that the handwriting was hers.



Quickly the redhead checked her bag, and found a ballpoint pen. She put the paper down on the bathroom counter, first making sure that the surface was dry. She closed her eyes and wrote the word “happy” in capitals, and then she looked. Yes, that’s my writing, she thought. Why is today a happy, happy day? There was nothing on the back of the piece of paper; no clue as to why today was particularly full of joy.



Willow found two more things in her bag: a cell-phone, and a bunch of keys. The cell-phone was switched off. She turned it on, but was frustrated when the message flashed up: “Recharge battery” and the recalcitrant instrument immediately turned itself off again. The key ring held a couple of house keys and a car key with a plip. The key tag was a piece of leather with a metal badge, and on the badge was a rampant, enamel lion.



Willow stared at the key tag for a bit. I don’t recognise this, she thought to herself. What kind of car has a lion for its emblem? Was there a car like that in a movie I saw, once? The one with the actress, with the hair, and the English actor, also with…the hair. And she’s a big-time star but she’s completely neurotic, and he sells books in London, and he’s completely neurotic too. And of course you know that they’ll get together in the end. But before they do, there’s a sort of car chase through London, and is it my imagination, or did the car have a badge like this one?



What to do, what to do…perhaps they have a help desk for lost memories, just like for lost property…



“Can I help you?”



“Yes! Well, I hope so. You see, I’ve lost my memory. I don’t know who I am.”



“Certainly, ma’am.” The helpful person at the desk would reach for a microphone. “Attention please ladies and gentlemen, a person’s memories have been lost somewhere within the Centre. Please check the memories that you may be carrying on your person right now and ensure that they are yours. Anybody finding memories not belonging to them, could they please bring them as soon as possible to the Lost & Found Department. We have a very anxious young lady waiting here for them. Thank you and enjoy your shopping. Have a nice day.”



Willow shook her head in frustration, trying to keep herself thinking practically and sensibly. Just then, the door leading to the mall opened, and a shopper came in. She smiled automatically at Willow in the mirror. The redhead tried not to flinch, and managed to blurt out: “Excuse me, today’s the thirty-first, isn’t it?”



“Sure is,” the woman replied, heading for a cubicle. Willow turned her attention back to her bag. There was lipstick, tissues, a sunglass case, a hairbrush, a tortoiseshell hair clip, a couple of candy wrappers (empty, unfortunately) and a scrap of lint. There were unfortunately no more clues for Willow. She sighed and looked again at her cell-phone. If she could find a way to charge the battery, she could check her address book and find a few familiar names, maybe. Anything that could jog her memory. She felt like she was on the brink of remembering something important, but she just couldn’t pin stuff down. Perhaps a coffee, or…Willow noticed her tummy rumbling…a bite to eat. That might help me along.



Willow repacked her bag and stepped back out into the mall. She walked to a junction and, still lost, looked around for a sign to the food hall. She was just turning about to look the other way when she bumped into another shopper. Her ankle went underneath her, and she almost fell.



“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” came a woman’s voice. “Let me help you up.” A long arm gripped Willow firmly under her arm and she was helped to her feet. Willow looked into the woman’s eyes and, too astonished to even scream, managed only a strangled squeak.



“You,” she managed to say, weakly.



The woman holding Willow’s arm smiled broadly. “Oh! It’s Willow, isn’t it? It’s so great to see you! How long has it been?”



Willow was gasping for breath, eyes wide with astonishment, because she distinctly remembered burying the woman who now stood before her, at least two years ago. But her name! What was her name? “You…I…”



“Willow?” the woman said, still smiling. “Surely you remember me?”



“Joyce!” Willow managed to say at last.



(To be continued)

[MellindraX]

Ah! Cliffhanger again. Boo! But, I still love this new world already ^^. I laways did like Joyce. Such a nice lady...

It is my solace, my home, the place where my walls crumble and fall away, because no one can know who I truly am. Thank goodness for the Internet, preserver of sanity! -Unknown

[JennY]

Awww! Joyce! She always reminded me of my mom.

-----------



JennY





"Obviously something in your bottle needs uncorking." -Faith

[Washi]

Holy hell! I'm so glad I also stayed up tonight.

This is soo cool. Willow seems to have some of her memories. Let's hope she'll be able to piece everything back together. But, hey, after all, this is Willow, she has super brain power!

Can't wait for more!

[Bagheera]

MellindraX – Bagheera morphs in front of the astonished MellindraX’s eyes. Where there once stood a black panther, there now stands a grinning old man with sandy blonde hair, a sun-tanned crinkled face that has had a few too many visits to the plastic surgeon, and wearing a hat studded with crocodile teeth. He says in the most appalling accent imaginable: “Yew corl thet a cliff’enger? Naow, this izza cliff’enger…”

Quote:

---

“Willow?” the woman said, still smiling. “Surely you remember me?”



“You!” Willow managed to say at last.



(To be continued)

---

Yes, it’s nice to be able to bring someone of Joyce’s class back into this story. It was a long time coming, but I finally managed to do it.



JennY – You must have a great mom, lucky you! Thanks for stopping by.



, B

"They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera--the Panther-- and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away." Rudyard Kipling

[MellindraX]

See now, that wouldn't be a cliffhanger, that would be a legal reason for me to chop you into kitty bits! Tis mean to be mean to people who love your writing so

It is my solace, my home, the place where my walls crumble and fall away, because no one can know who I truly am. Thank goodness for the Internet, preserver of sanity! -Unknown

[Jennpurr]

B,



Haven't read it yet... like I said, I was gonna wait till it was all finished, but...

Quote:

---

“Yew corl thet a cliff’enger? Naow, this izza cliff’enger…”

---

An Australian accent...







*melts into a puddle*



Call 911, I need CPR...







Jen

||My Fan Fiction and More!||
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I've been to every one of, Melissa Etheridge's concerts. No, really... I HAVE!" ~ Melissa Etheridge on 8/10/02, in the Woodland's, TX.

[Bagheera]

Washi – Hi, I’m glad you stayed up too. I must have been composing a reply while you were posting your feedback, so I missed you first time around. Willow has partial memories – fragments. She’s trying to piece it together and figure out who she is and what’s going on. Hopefully Joyce can help her out some.



MellindraX – Please don’t chop me into little bits. And I’m half-joking, of course – I’ve often stopped a section in this story when a new person arrives – eg. when Faith first showed up. Believe me, it breaks the story up into coherent parts. First we had Willow’s confusion and seeking after clues. Now it’s a complete change. Joyce and Willow will converse, and Willow will learn a few things about herself and the world she now lives in.



Jenn -

Dincha know oi kid roit wiv an Osstrayan accent, ay Jen? Nah wurries, maate.



B.

"They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera--the Panther-- and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away." Rudyard Kipling

[Jennpurr]

Quote:

---

Dincha know oi kid roit wiv an Osstrayan accent, ay Jen? Nah wurries, maate.

---

Okay... hee... help me out with what you just said.



"Didn't you know I kid ? with an Australian accent, eh Jen? No worries, mate."



What did you say after kid?



Jen (Who's going to go hide under my rock now and die of embarrassment)

||My Fan Fiction and More!||
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I've been to every one of, Melissa Etheridge's concerts. No, really... I HAVE!" ~ Melissa Etheridge on 8/10/02, in the Woodland's, TX.

[Bagheera]

Jenn - strugglin' with Ostrayan, are yiz?



"kid roit" = "could write"



Say it phonetically out loud and you'll get it.



And don't worry; an entire nation wants to crawl under a rock and hide with some of the stuff Paul Hogan gets up to - and let's not even mention the guy who played the sidekick on "The Highwayman" shall we?



B.

"They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera--the Panther-- and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away." Rudyard Kipling

[Jennpurr]

Um... **Looks around shyly** when I think of someone with an Australian accent, I tend to think of Steve Irwin first. Maybe that's just cause I really respect and like him. He's a goof!! He has a good heart though.



And thank you for helping me out with that translation. I appreciate it.



**HUGS**



Jen

||My Fan Fiction and More!||
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I've been to every one of, Melissa Etheridge's concerts. No, really... I HAVE!" ~ Melissa Etheridge on 8/10/02, in the Woodland's, TX.

[the vamp nurd]

"tie me kangaroo down sport." Sorry no offence met.



Joyce!



Cliff hanger! "Falling now."

"He beats me with wet noodles!" Amber Benson.



Willow (with pointy ears): "NO kissing and gay love?!!!! That's illogical!" The Sci-Fi Bard W/T trekkie ramblings.



"Soul mates are either shot in the back or stabbed with a sword." Things I've learnt from BtVS

[chilled monkey]

Well, this is certainly one of the most original premises I've ever seen. Hope Willow gets to be re-united with Tara soon.



I also hope that she will still be a witch, as I don't like the thought of her losing that. Perhaps in this reality, she's a Wiccan priestess, that would be cool.

[Bagheera]

Responses to Feedback to “Real We” (cont)



Bagheera catches hold of the vamp nurd and sets her down gingerly. It wasn’t such a high cliff, that one. And as for the Rolf Harris quote: no offence taken, but wow! Bondage and bestiality in a single line. Sensational! You mad scouser, you! Thanks for stopping by.



Chilled monkey – Tara is out there somewhere. And “soon” is a relative concept, but let’s just say – not long, ‘kay? So you’d like to see Willow as a witch and not a mere wITch? I’ll see what I can come up with.



B.

"They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera--the Panther-- and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away." Rudyard Kipling

[chilled monkey]

Thank you, that's very considerate. I'm sure what you come up with will be good.



Update soon, please.

[Bagheera]

chilled monkey - Okay, here we go. I must confess I'm struggling a bit at the moment; these updates are a lot longer than they used to be.



Part 2

Rating: PG-13 Adult themes



Willow stared in amazement at the woman she knew for an absolute fact was dead. Vivid memories of an intensely sad funeral coursed through her mind. After managing to repeat Joyce’s name, the redhead once again found herself incapable of speech.



“It must be – how long? Four years? Well, isn’t this a surprise?” Joyce gushed, apparently oblivious to the typhoon blowing in Willow’s mind. Joyce hesitated and, for the first time appearing to notice Willow’s discomfort, continued, “I’m so sorry, Willow, I’m sure you must be very busy. I won’t keep you.”



“No!” Willow managed to squeak through a tight throat. “I mean, yes! Please, keep me.” She laughed nervously, and Joyce joined in. The older woman smiled warmly, and it was as if a ray of sunshine touched Willow’s heart. I forgot just how much I missed her, she thought.



“All right,” Ms. Summers said, “How about a coffee?”



“Oh, yes!” Willow nodded enthusiastically. “Where should we…”



“There’s a nice place just down this way.” Joyce took Willow by the arm and led the redhead in the indicated direction. Even the touch of Joyce’s hand was a surprise. This woman is dead, Willow said to herself. How could the wish have reversed this? She…now Will remembered…Joyce died from complications of a brain tumour, suddenly, at home. It was natural causes; it had nothing to do with any wish. Did it?



“You…” Willow struggled to articulate what she was thinking. “You were…very …sick, the last I heard. I don’t…”



“It’s all right,” Joyce said in a soothing tone. “I can understand how very busy you’ve been, it’s easy to lose touch with people. Yes, I did have a brain tumour, but I’ve had treatment, and my neurologist is very happy with me. He refuses however to give me a completely clean bill of health for at least the next year or two, but we have agreed to disagree on that point.”



Willow’s heart skipped a beat. Was that what they said to Joyce when she went home, and then one day she just collapsed and died? Could that still happen? “Aneurysm…” she managed to say.



“Yes, that’s right,” Joyce said cheerfully. “You heard about that too, did you?”



“Ummm – yes,” was all that Willow managed to say.



“It’s amazing what they can do nowadays isn’t it? Ah, here we are,” Joyce said as they approached a small café. They took a small table, and Joyce ordered tea and a slice of cake. Willow opted for mocha and a muffin.



“The aneurysm…what did they…”



“Sclerotherapy,” Joyce answered. “Sounds like some kind of facelift, doesn’t it? I asked them if they could do a little work on my eyes while they were at it…oh well, we can’t have everything we wish for, can we?”



“But I thought no-one knew about the aneurysm,” Willow said feebly.



“Not at first,” Joyce agreed. “They said it was a known rare complication of the original surgery. So, on one of my early follow-up visits, they did a scan, and there it was. That evening, I was back in hospital, and a very nice radiologist was threading a catheter up my neck and injecting superglue into my brain.”



“Wow,” Willow said breathlessly. “And then you were cured?”



“No, I still needed a second operation, but injecting the aneurysm made it much smaller and easier to remove. And voila,” Joyce concluded, turning to face Willow and smiling broadly. “They were even kind enough to hide the scars under my hairline – once it all grew back. There was also the small matter of regaining the use of my left arm, and learning how to walk without bumping into things, but I got there.”



Willow was mentally gasping to keep up with the flood of information she was being confronted with. One thought however was uppermost: in my world, the wish-world, this woman was dead, now she’s alive. Why? Wait-wait-wait…in wish-world people died if they fell in love with the wrong person. If they got in the way; so who was Joyce’s lover? Who did she get in the way of? I don’t remember, honestly I don’t. There was a boyfriend, but he turned out to be a robot. Was there someone else? Wait! There was someone; he and Joyce were close for years; he was tall and tweedy and pompous, but he had a good heart most of the time. He could fit, but I always thought their relationship was not so much physical; he was looking out for the welfare of Joyce’s…daughters. Daughters. Oh, no.



“Librarian…librarian,” Willow muttered weakly.



“Excuse me?” Joyce looked surprised.



“Our high school librarian…you were…close?” Willow ventured. It made sense, the more she thought about it.



Joyce laughed briefly. “He thought so, perhaps. We dated for a short time, but he wasn’t the most interesting person you could ever meet, don’t you agree?” That didn’t sound at all right to Willow. The librarian had led a double life: stuffy high school librarian by day, battler of demons by night, he had watched over the career and training of Willow’s best friend and Joyce’s eldest daughter. Eldest…or only?



“He went back to England a couple of years ago,” Joyce continued breezily. “Though curiously, the man I’m seeing now also works with books; he’s a publisher.”



Willow took a long careful look at the woman sitting opposite her. The redhead was steeling herself to ask a very difficult and delicate question. Bits of memory were coming back to her. Joyce’s eldest daughter had been in Willow’s high school class, and they had been best friends. She had carried a deep, dark secret, one that even Joyce did not know about at first – she was the Slayer, the Chosen One, fated to battle the vampires, demons and other creatures of the night. Humanity’s champion. But there was another sister, about six years younger, a beautiful, impassioned and at times impossible young girl, who lived for a long time in her superhero older sister’s shadow. But then it had turned out that she was special too; her physical form hid a secret, a magical Key that would unlock a portal between realms. And Willow suddenly remembered her terror of the possibility that the young girl might no longer exist, and that she had never existed, and the love and trust that they had built up precariously together over years had never existed. Willow gulped and looked again at Joyce’s open, friendly face. The redhead thought: this woman was dead, now she’s alive. Is the loss of a daughter the price for Joyce’s life? Could she forgive me if she knew what I’ve done? And how can I ask her, when I can’t even remember my best friend’s name?



“How - ?” Willow hesitated.



“Yes?” Joyce was all ears, politely waiting for a question Willow was still struggling to construct. Their food and drinks arrived, and Willow made a great show of breaking off a bit of muffin and washing it down.



“How is – your daughter?” Willow asked eventually. She knew it was a cop-out but it was the best she could do.



Joyce’s response rather surprised Willow. The older woman laughed out loud and long. Willow could only smile nervously in response. Why was that question so funny?



“That was wonderfully diplomatic,” Joyce said, and she laughed again. A couple of passing shoppers looked at her oddly. Some people appeared to be of the opinion that public mirth is inappropriate. “Though sometimes,” Joyce continued more seriously, “it does seem as though I have only one daughter now, after what happened. But I’m sure you’ll be happy to know I haven’t completely disowned Buffy yet. And yes, Dawn is doing just fine. There was a time a few years back, as you’d remember, when Buffy did her best to pretend that Dawn didn’t exist, and Dawn went through some tough times with that, but it’s a lot better now.”



Willow took a relieved and grateful sip of her mocha. Dawn, Buffy. And Dawn is…real. Thank you. Thank you. She’s alive. But what’s happened to Buffy?



“You know Willow, I’ll always remember what you did for Buffy the day she left school.”



Huh? As far as I can remember I found where the other Slayer was hiding, and Buffy went after her and half-killed her. In the light of subsequent events, what I did was next to useless. But she just nodded and prayed that Joyce would keep talking to give some sort of a clue. She did.



“I mean,” Joyce continued, “What you told Buffy, sharing such an intimate part of yourself, that took such courage. It was the mark of a true friend. I’ve never forgotten it. I do hope that Buffy hasn’t either.”



I’m sorry? What is she talking about? I don’t remember any of this. “Um…thanks,” (I guess) Will faltered. This is like stage fright, except I’m performing in my real life, and I don’t know my lines. I feel sick.



“Tell me Willow, are you still with…” Joyce trailed off and she blinked a couple of times, putting a hand to her forehead. “There, you see, how terribly rude of me, I’ve completely forgotten her name…are you two still together?”



HER?! Joyce is saying what? That I’m gay and that I came out to Buffy – before I left high school? But – I seem to remember it wasn’t until I was in college that…this is so confusing. I’m gay, that’s…not a surprise, but…her name? Are we still together? I don’t know, I barely know who I am. Willow looked frantically at her hands – a pair of rings grinned mockingly back at her, refusing to advance her a clue. I think my mother might have given me that one, Willow eventually decided. And this one – I bought that myself, I’m pretty sure. No photos in my billfold. Her hand strayed to her neck, where the beautiful gem hung on its metal chain. Touching it sent a warm fire through Willow’s body. As if a little door had opened in her mind, Willow suddenly found memories where before there had been nothing. They were mere fragments, but they spoke of smiles and laughter, a gift given shyly, touches, caresses, and long nights of passion. Very long nights…Oh yes, I’m gay all right, Willow half-smiled to herself. Reluctantly she released the gem. But is she still with me?



Joyce came to Willow’s rescue. “Please forgive me, I know it’s none of my business,” Ms. Summers said. “I sometimes wish that Buffy had been like you, Willow.”



EH? Wishing that Buffy were gay, too? But wait now, Willow recalled, Buffy did have a lesbian lover, just before...well, it was less than an hour ago, actually. She was a dark-haired, tattooed girl, a couple of years Buffy’s junior. What was her name? Wait, she WAS that other Slayer. She went evil for a while, went to prison, but she came back and she was better…and she loved Buffy, so much.



“I mean, you know, sensible,” Joyce continued, oblivious to Willow’s turmoil and confusion. “I told her time and again, she didn’t have to leave home and drop out of school. She could have had the baby and stayed with me, and gone back to school the next year. We would have managed.”



BABY? Buffy got pregnant and dropped out of high school? Excuse me while I pick up my lower jaw from the floor. BABY?



“But oh no, Buffy knew best. She had this mad romantic idea. You remember don’t you?” Willow didn’t, but nodded anyway. “She was going to marry Lex and they were going to settle down and work and have this perfect baby and this perfect life. Of course, she never dreamed she’d end up living in a trailer park and being left on her own for sixteen hours out of every day, but there you are.”



Willow’s head swam, but she managed to grasp hold of one of the unfamiliar bits of information that Joyce had dangled in front of her. “Um, Lex – what was his other name again?” she managed to say. Who in hell is Lex?



“Harris.” HARRIS!? Now, just a minute, Willow’s brain whirred frantically. That’s not a name I remember. But then again, I do. And an image of a teenager, then a man, with short wavy black hair and sideburns, came to Willow. A series of memories came back to her then, snippets of childhood, school days, college; except, he didn’t go to college, he worked in construction and he did really well, making enormous amounts of money, even though he was young, and not very talented and when it came down to it, he was rather lazy. But that was how he’d planned it, because of…the wish. The wish that had killed people, people that she and Buffy and others had loved. A wish she’d confronted him about and cursed him to the lowest Hell for making. A wish that had made her so angry, she’d really, really wanted to kill him, painfully and slowly. And now this same fool of a boy had got Buffy, Willow’s best friend, pregnant, and she’d dropped out of school. This same idiot Harris…Lex. No, not Lex, but…



“Xander,” Willow said suddenly. “Xander Harris.”



“Xander?” Joyce sniffed. “Oh yes, I believe that for a time he wanted people to call him that. But really Willow, a slob like him with such a pretentious name? I call him Lexan, anyway.” And she winked at Willow.



Lexan? That’s the bulletproof stuff they make safety glass from, isn’t it? “Because he’s indestructible?” Willow guessed. He was, too. Xander’s wish had made him invulnerable in the other, nightmare world.



“No,” Joyce explained. “It’s because he’s artificial and transparent. I still can’t believe that Buffy couldn’t see him for what he was. I know I shouldn’t say things like this, but I sometimes think Lex must have gotten Buffy drunk at Homecoming or something. I just can’t see any other way she could have made such a terrible mistake.”



“It’s difficult to imagine,” Willow agreed automatically, but her mind was in another place. Not very long ago, it was this morning I think, I called forth the demon that granted Xander’s wish and we destroyed an object – an amulet or something. Everything was supposed to go back to normal, or I thought it would. But this can’t be right. My best friend at school got pregnant and dropped out in her senior year. Pregnant to the same Xander Harris that messed everything up in the first place. Buffy was strong and powerful; sometimes she could be headstrong and bitchy and stupid too, but at least when she made mistakes she stood up and admitted it and made it right. What happened to college? What happened to us rooming together and sharing secrets and learning all about life? If what Joyce says is true, Buffy’s trapped in a horrible marriage with a young child. It’s not right, everything was supposed to be fixed after what we did this morning and it’s not. Oh, what have I done?



“Willow…Willow,” Joyce’s voice intruded on Willow’s miserable thoughts. There was a comforting hand pressing on her arm. “Willow? Are you aware that you are crying?”



“Oh!” Willow sniffed and threw her head back, brushing at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Oh, Joyce, I’m so sorry,” she blurted. “I’ve had a bad morning,” she said lamely. Well, that’s not true. How do you even know that? And what happened to the ‘happy, happy day’?



“I have mornings like that,” Joyce said gently. “When I was told about my brain tumour, I cried for days on end.”



“Yes, but,” Willow struggled for the words, trying to find a way of expressing what she was feeling without Joyce thinking that she was insane. “I – I’m so sorry about Buffy. I’ve been so wrapped up in my – stuff, I had no idea how bad it got. I was a bad friend.”



“You mustn’t blame yourself, Willow. Buffy’s all right,” Joyce soothed. “Jimmy is a delightful boy. While she’s got him, she’ll never be completely unhappy. I admit that I would prefer it if she left Lex and got on to make something with her life, but I know that it has to be Buffy’s choice. She’s made her bed, Willow. You can’t be responsible for her. I know that I can’t.”



Willow nodded, but inside her mind she disagreed violently with what Joyce was saying. I should do something, she thought to herself. But what?



“You should come around to dinner one night,” Joyce suggested. “I’m sure Brian would love to meet you. Dawn would love to catch up too, and heaven knows she could use some exposure to a good role model for her school work.” The older woman smiled again as her ulterior motive was exposed. “You’d be most welcome to bring someone.”



Willow agreed, and they exchanged addresses, Willow passing over one of her business cards. They paid their bill and parted with hugs and promises to keep in touch.



The redhead watched Joyce disappear into the crowd with her head in a whirl. It wasn’t a perfect world, to be sure. There were still problems, but it seemed that they were not monsters or demons. Which made them perhaps more believable, but in a way more difficult to overcome. You couldn’t strap on your best kicking boots and go out and beat some demon to a bloody pulp to prevail over your troubles. Willow was finding this more than a little disorienting. She had come to know the world as a ghastly melange of a place, a bizarre Hawkingoid Big Crunch of flaky mysticism, twisted psychopathology where fears became flesh, and shallow popular culture in which truth and beauty and love could be paraded and traded like tawdry damaged goods in a fetid flea market. It was a place she had tried to destroy at least once. Had she succeeded?



Guess I better go find my car and get home, Willow thought to herself. Um – just how am I going to do that?



(To be continued)

[Washi]

Ok, this is getting more and more confusing! Buffy and Xander? WTH? But it's confusing in a good way, so I won't bug you more.

I'll be waiting for an update!

********



"See? I've mastered this tact crap." Anya in Tears Of The Goddess by Lisa

[MellindraX]

And further down the rabbit hole go I... This is really excellent, and I can actually feel my head hurt right alongside Willow's

More soon?

It is my solace, my home, the place where my walls crumble and fall away, because no one can know who I truly am. Thank goodness for the Internet, preserver of sanity! -Unknown

[Bagheera]

Washi - B/X? Well, there is a vast army of B/X 'shippers out there, and I thought they deserved at least something (a metaphorical clip over the ear, perhaps?) after all this time. It is, after all, arguably the oldest 'ship in the entire BtVS canon - older than B/A, even. Thank you for your support and patience; I'm afraid you're going to need it for a few days while I get Parts 3&4 properly bedded in.



MellindraX - Rabbit hole? I hadn't really had "Alice in Wonderland" in mind when I was putting this together, but yes, I can see where the similarities might be observed (perhaps "Mission Statement" is a bit of a curate's egg, for example). Sorry if your brain is hurting, but if you're empathising with Willow's confusion, that's about where you need to be right now. Part 3 exists in draft form, Part 4 needs a lot of work yet, so it will be a little while - hopefully within a week.



Thanks all,



B.

"They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera--the Panther-- and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away." Rudyard Kipling

[chilled monkey]

Well this is odd (in a good way). I like the fact that you haven't made everything right, that would just have been too easy. I've read a number of fics in which Buffy is in a similar situation to the one she's in now; it's something I find quite intriguing.



I wonder how Tara's doing...

[the vamp nurd]

Quote:

---

Bagheera catches hold of the vamp nurd and sets her down gingerly. It wasn’t such a high cliff, that one. And as for the Rolf Harris quote: no offence taken, but wow! Bondage and bestiality in a single line. Sensational! You mad scouser, you! Thanks for stopping by.

---

Thanks, I always seen to fall of cliffs very easily....



Where's Tara? hmm TVN stokes her faux beard.



Proud to be a 'Mad Scouser' The Vamp nurd.

"He beats me with wet noodles!" Amber Benson.



Willow (with pointy ears): "NO kissing and gay love?!!!! That's illogical!" The Sci-Fi Bard W/T trekkie ramblings.



"Soul mates are either shot in the back or stabbed with a sword." Things I've learnt from BtVS

[tstcloud]

Ouch! Can't say I'm pleased with B's new life but I am curious to see where everything is headed.



Given Anya's level of uncomfortability towards the end of the last episode, I would assume that she had a notiion they were all living in a wishverse. As such, would it be wrong to think that Anya, once again, has her vengeance on?



T

[Bagheera]

chilled monkey - Incisive feedback. Thanks, and I completely agree that it was best not to put everything completely right. There's more than a splash of "Tabula Rasa" in Willow's current situation, and I mean that in a good way. As for other stories which portray Buffy in a similar situation - I'm not familiar with them, but I would hazard a guess that perhaps a number of writers like to see Buffy stripped of her superhero powers for a change. It raises some interesting issues about Buffy's character - is she fundamentally vacuous and needy and altogether a whiny pain in the ass? Hmm....



the vamp nurd - Regarding cliffs, maybe you wouldn't fall off them if I didn't put quite so many in your way. I don't think I have many left in this story arc. I know I keep saying that, but this time, it's true. Where's Tara? There are clues, and it will all fit together (like overcooked ravioli) in the end. Mad scousers unite; seeing as the only ones I can readily name are PC Cass Rickman (from "The Bill") and Dave Lister ("Red Dwarf"). you're in excellent company.



tstcloud - If you were pleased with Buffy's new situation in life I would fear you. Everything will head towards a finale of sorts. And there will be strangeness. Take what's happened to Willow; she assists in destroying a comprehensive, 7-year wishverse and where does she end up? In a shopping mall. And Buffy, the greatest Slayer in recorded history? A neglected young spouse in a trailer park. See a pattern in any of this?

Now, as for Anya, you raise a very interesting point with your speculation. Just what did Anya know about the wishverse. Tara was sure Anya felt something was up, but just how much did the ex(??) vengeance demon know? I'm inclined to think she didn't know the full story; certainly, if she'd ever known for sure that it was Xander's wishverse and learned a part of what that all meant, I am fairly certain she would have used her 12-gauge on more than just mutated misogynists.



Thanks everyone for stopping by. I'm progressing slowly with this story at the moment but will update when I can. Hope you can put up with a little bit more oddness.



B.

"They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera--the Panther-- and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away." Rudyard Kipling