chapter 6 of 14
Crossover With: Star Wars, the Oz books, My Chemical Romance. Kind of. In a way.
Warning: Extreme Mary Suism.
Disclaimer: All characters who belong to Joss and co, belong to Joss and co.
Summary: post-Chosen: A group of watchers and slayers taking a creative writing class are assigned a simple lesson in author intrusion. But nothing’s ever simple when magic is -- literally -- in the air.
Mary Stu Got Harried, Chapter Six: Black Magic Women
(In which special women do questionable things. Get your mind out of the gutter.)
When someone tapped lightly on Andrew’s door he yawned, and climbed wearily to his feet. He hadn’t slept yet -- who could sleep with a phantom band in the building? -- but had just started to doze on his armchair. Still, he maintained the presence of mind to check the peephole before opening the door -- he’d been the victim of practical jokes by new slayers, once or twice. Okay, five times.
Natalie Portman stood outside the door.
The actress looked impossibly young, dressed in the Padme costume from her first Star Wars movie, her hair long again and braided. She was glancing up and down the hallway, looking confused.
“Holy cow.” Andrew jerked the door open. “Nat --”
One hand caught him by the throat and another by an arm. She propelled him inside, forcing him up against the opposite wall of his small apartment. “Where am I?”
He stared up at her, entranced despite the violent act. She smelled like vanilla. But, something at her thigh was pressing against his leg, which made him glance down with the fear that he was having one of those wonderful dreams that turned into a nightmare.
“Um, you’re in Chicago,” he said, trying to see what the round cylinder at her waist was.
“Isn’t that in the Cordelian system? Why am I here?”
“Maybe you’re on location?” She looked pissed, and he noticed she also looked much younger than -- what was she, twenty-five? Something was very wrong.
Shifting to one side -- despite the hand still at his throat -- he finally was able to glimpse downward, past her impossibly slim form, to an object sticking out from the edge of her tunic. “Oh my gosh! Is that a real lightsaber?”
Finally she released him, stepping back to take the metal gray cylinder from the belt at her waist. She stared at it for a moment, then gave him a glare. “Let’s find out.” She pressed a button on the handle.
“Not even sound effects?” Andrew said, trying not to sound disappointed.
The young actress pressed a few more buttons, then shook the lightsaber experimentally, before punching buttons again. “Maybe it only works if the F --”
A sizzling green blade of energy sliced out from the end of the device. Startled, Natalie Portman jerked back, causing the blade to sweep across Andrew’s armchair.
The chair settled a bit, then fell over in two neatly divided pieces.
“Oops.” She punched buttons again, until the blade retracted. “Sorry.”
“How -- how --” A part of Andrew’s brain -- the part he usually kept strictly tied down, except when he was gaming or letting his imagination roam just before sleep -- kicked in. “Who --?”
“My name is Padme.” She waved the lightsaber menacingly. “And I want some answers.”
Then her eyes widened, focusing on Andrew’s pajamas. “Why are you wearing clothes with my picture on them?”
Teagan the slayer moaned, squirming a little as Gerard pinned her onto the couch. This was the most exquisite, wonderful feeling she’d ever had in her young life, and she wanted it never to stop.
Kneeling over her, Gerard continued to kneed his fingers into the small of her back, before continuing up to massage her shoulders again. “I’m shocked they don’t give you slayers a full time masseuse.”
She just moaned more.
“But don’t worry about that; I’m here now. Would you like another Coke?”
It wasn’t long before Suzy forgot her doubts and settled into the couch beside Giles -- um, James -- for a viewing of the greatest cult movie in history. James knew all the lines, knew what to throw and when, and knew just the right time to deviate from the plot and plant a little kiss at the base of her neck. By the time the characters had entered the castle she’d convinced herself that she deserved a nice Saturday night off, and that whatever else was going on could all be straightened out later.
Richard set a cup of tea in front of Tara, and watched raptly as she sipped. His mind jumbled, trying to sort out whether he should be happy, angry, scared or just awestruck. “I can’t believe Kara never told me any of this.”
“We all agreed on secrecy. We felt that this getting out would cause more problems than it solved.”
“And no one else ever noticed.” Kara should have told him. They’d shared everything, especially since her mother died -- there’d never been any secrets between them.
“I’ve been careful, but I should have realized the evidence would accumulate. Having Bottie as a roommate helped.”
Tara had admitted to snoring. Maybe she wasn’t being as careful as she thought, or maybe, deep down, she’d wanted someone else to know. He gave her a sidelong glance, wondering what the snoring comment, the touch, the midnight visit, all meant. “Any kind of resurrection usually has unforeseen side effects.”
“I know; if I’d realized what Kennedy was planning, I wouldn’t have let her go through with it. But after it was done I did some research, and discovered this spell was very carefully prepared by a wizard named Merlin; he wanted to use it eventually to resurrect a British king.”
“I know the story,” Richard murmured. “There’s no record that he ever succeeded.”
“No, but not because of the spell itself. It’s powerful white magic; it required special sacrifices from those who are both close to the spirit and pure of heart.”
He straightened in alarm.
“it’s okay.” She reached out to squeeze his arm. “It was a cheat, kind of. First, the spell required only a small amount of real blood -- the power came from the intentions of pure friends.”
“Kara and Dana.”
“Yes. They thought I was dying ... or the ghost equivalent. They were so prepared to sacrifice themselves for me that the intentions alone powered the spell. The second part of the cheat is that I’m not really alive again, like Buffy was; I’m a spirit entrapped in a living shell.”
“I’m not sure I see the difference.”
“I’m not sure there is one, other than that it feels a little --wrong -- sometimes.”
Richard nodded. “That’s why the bolt of black magic affected you. And it’s also why you can’t help track down the reason behind the appearance of a rock band in the gym.”
She released his arm and gave an embarrassed shrug. “I’m sorry about that, but you’re right -- I can still tap into the spirit dimension, but my abilities to travel and see are limited. Sometimes I feel like I was of more use before.”
“Don’t say that. For all intents you’re alive again, and I for one am glad.”
Tara flashed a smile at him. “But you didn’t know me when I was alive before.”
The smile seemed to go right into Richard, warming him from within, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “I can imagine.”
When they realized, a moment later, that they were still smiling at each other, Tara coughed and looked away. Richard, feeling dazed, grasped at the only part of the story that still eluded him. “But why Kennedy? Why in the world would she want to bring you back to life?”
“Oh, that.” Tara gave a little wave. “Even though Kennedy has a reputation for being ... um ...”
“Well, she -- she really fell for W-Willow. So much that she was able to do the one thing that only those who really love do: Sacrifice. When the spell worked, she offered to step out of the way, let Willow and me be back together again.”
“That’s wonderful,” Richard said, although doubt gnawed at him.
“I refused, because -- because they’re good together. And because Willow’s moved on. It wouldn’t be right. That’s when I convinced all four of them to keep it a secret.”
Sitting back, Richard rubbed his chin and considered the story. Kennedy had fallen hard for Willow, no doubt about it, and more with each passing day. But ... “You helped
them a few times, back when you were a spirit.”
Looking puzzled, Tara nodded.
“Followed them on that first trip to Cleveland, and helped against a demon, as I recall. Then you showed up again during the battle at Lake Superior.”
“Yes ... and I did them a little favor in Connecticut once, too.”
“Really? Did Kennedy know about that?”
Tara nodded again, then picked up her cup to take a sip.
“Have you considered the possibility that Kennedy put you in a physical body so you couldn’t spy on them anymore?”
That’s when Richard found out Tara could not only breath and drink, but could spit tea across the room.