When Good Spells Go BadRating:
Twisting the Hellmouth and Fanfiction dot net.Challenge Response:
TtH’s FFA challenge, Willow/John Crichton pairing. Friendship only I’m afraid... I love Crichton and Aeryn too much to frell with them.Disclaimer:
I own neither Buffy the Vampire Slayer nor Farscape, although I did once go on a march to save Farscape and met Jade Goody. True story. I make no money from the creation or distribution of this story and the characters I use do not belong to me.Author’s Note:
I know, it’s crazy to start another fic while I’m still bogged down with Slayers in Space, but I needed a little light relief while wrestling with the latest monster chapter and this idea has been kicking around for so long that it deserved to be written down.When Good Spells Go BadMy name is Willow Rosenberg... I’m a witch... I did a spell and it went wrong... I ended up on a spaceship, it’s alive... full of fugitive aliens... Is any of this getting through...? There’s another human here... John... an astronaut... lost, like me... Can you understand me...? Where am I...? I’ve got to get back... got to help my friends... Buffy, Xander, Dawn, Giles, Tara... I wanna go home.
“Attention, Moya is detecting a build up of energy.”
The announcement came over the com system and elicited a typical response from those members of the crew currently aboard the leviathan spaceship.
“What kind of energy, Pilot?”
“In the control room,” Pilot said. “Moya has never experienced anything like this before.”
“I’m round the corner from there,” John Crichton, IASA astronaut, wormhole enthusiast and the human most wanted by Peacekeeper forces, said into the com unit attached to his white shirt as he pulled a quick one-eighty.
“On my way,” Ka D’Argo’s voice came from the com unit as John ran towards the control room.
“As am I,” said Pa’u Zotoh Zhaan.
John ran through the open door to the control room only to come skidding to a halt as he caught sight of the glittery dust coalescing in the air.
“Whoa!” he said and tapped the com unit. “Hey guys, we got some kind of dust problem.”
“Dust?” D’Argo and Zhaan spoke at the same time.
“Yeah, some kinda... glitterdust,” John said as the sparkly stuff pulled in tighter on itself, swirling faster.
“Glitterdust?” D’Argo sounded even more frustrated than usual. “Crichton, if this is some sort of human joke...”
“Whoa!” John exclaimed again as the dust pulled in even tighter, seeming to pulse slightly before it exploded, revealing a slim woman with curly red hair.
She blinked, swaying dizzily as she struggled to focus on him. Twin rivulets of blood crept from her nose to run down towards her red lip. A frown crumpled her white forehead.
“Um... oops?” she said and crumpled.
John leapt forward and somehow managed to catch her before her head hit the sharp edge of the control console. Carefully, he laid her down on the floor, turning her head so that the blood from her nosebleed ran down her face to the floor instead of down her throat. Catching sight of the scar that gleamed palely there on her neck, he frowned.
“What is it, John?” Zhaan asked over the coms.
“It’s a girl,” John said, staring at her in shock. He’d seen a lot in his time in the Uncharted Territories but never a girl appearing out of dust. Although there had been that time with the Drak...
“What?” D’Argo snapped. “I thought you said it was glitterdust. Never mind! I’m almost there.”
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he came running into the control room, his Qualta blade drawn and a fierce expression on his tentacled face. He stopped as soon as he caught sight of Crichton crouching over an unconscious girl and lowered his weapon.
“What did you do?” he demanded to know.
“Nothing!” John said defensively, standing up.
“Who is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did she come from?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did she get onboard Moya?”
“I don’t know!”
“Is there anything you do know?” D’Argo asked, sheathing his Qualta blade.
“Sure,” John said. “Krispy Kreme make the best doughnuts, e equals mc squared and the Red Sox’ll never win the World Series.”
D’Argo growled at him, pushing past to kneel at the red-haired woman’s side, “Did she say anything?”
“‘Um... oops?’” John repeated. He shrugged as D’Argo glared at him.
“What happened?” Zhaan asked as she rushed into the room.
“Big swirly dust cloud,” John told her, waving his arms around in an attempt to try and describe it. “It got smaller, went boom only without the boom part, and left her behind. Then she passed out.”
“Did she say anything before she lost consciousness?” asked Zhaan, crouching over her.
“Um, oops.” D’Argo said.
“What did you do?” Zhaan asked, looking up.
“No, that’s what she said,” John told her. He shrugged. “Um... oops.”
“I see,” Zhaan said, turning back to the girl. “I think it’s safe to move her. D’Argo, help me get her to my lab.”
“That is a very bad idea,” D’Argo said, folding his arms.
“What?” John said, surprised. “Why?”
“We have no clue where she came from, how she got on board or what her intentions may be,” said D’Argo with a scowl. “I say we lock her up.”
“You can’t just lock her up because we don’t know how she got here,” John said. “What if she’s badly hurt?”
“D’Argo raises a valid point,” Zhaan rose to her feet, holding her hands out peaceably. “Until we know more about her, we cannot risk giving her the run of the ship. I can treat her in private quarters with only a little more difficulty than treating her in my lab.”
“I’m re-instating the cell-door function on tier three,” D’Argo said, doing just that.
“John, I need you to fetch some things from my lab,” said Zhaan, “Listen carefully....”