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W-I-S-H

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This story is No. 1 in the series "Dark Dreams Series". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: They had been so careful. Every new Slayer was taught the rule of the forbidden words. The rule of never saying the cursed word W-I-S-H. But in the end they had only managed to postpone, but not to stop it. And D'Hoffryn had finally gotten his revenge.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Miscellaneous > Surprise CrossoverJadeDragonFR1311,465032,53031 Aug 1031 Aug 10Yes
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, it all belongs to other people, but I can still dream, can I?

Authors Note: I was watching my cousins last night and they were watching an anime... evil plotbunnies came visiting me for a little surprise Crossover.

The W-I-S-H
Simone of the Zordiak

They had been so careful. Every new Slayer was taught the rule of the forbidden words. The rule of never saying the cursed word W-I-S-H. And yet, in the end they had only managed to postpone, but not to stop it. And D'Hoffryn had finally gotten his revenge.

It all had started so innocently, with a few young Slayers deciding to have a movie-night. Xander only had a fleeting idea what the chosen movie was about, since he was busy with translating an old Sumerian text that was seemingly talking about an eldritch Horror that was about to appear someday soon. He thought that it sounded rather phony, he had seen many dark creatures over the years, that had given themselves impressive looking titles and Lord of Darkness was so overused that he didn't even twitched as he found it in the book. Nightmare God was rarer and more impressive, but still, her could also remember the fear demon, barely four inched high, that had ended as a smear under Buffy's boot...

His train of thoughts was interrupted suddenly, as his finely honed danger sense started to message him that he was in grave danger. He felt a bit paranoid as he looked around, seeing nothing out of place, but then he heard it, the most dangerous words of the world... I wish.

Xander jumped up, running towards the living room, when he heard the deep and smug voice of D'Hoffryn, fulfilling the wish.

And then there was pain. He was no stranger to pain, having felt many different kinds of it, from the searing pain he'd felt when Willow blasted him with raw magic, the blinding pain of having his eye popped and the long lingering pain of his body after a battle, he'd felt them all. But this was worse, a hundred-thousand times worse than anything he'd ever felt before. The blood in his veins felt like it was boiling, yet chilly as liquid nitrogen at the same time. His bones were vibrating and his skin felt like acid. He fell to the ground, his legs no longer able to carry him and he screamed, screamed like nobody else had screamed before, a seemingly never-ending scream that would haunt those that heard it for many years.

++++

They hadn't meant to do it. It had been an unwatched word, flung into a nonsense-discussion and now Xander was paying the price. They had watched an Anime, and one of the characters, build up as a typical anti-hero, had thrown himself between two rampaging creatures, slowing down their mindless destruction, until the plucky young hero could calm them down. One of the elder Slayers had compared that to Xander stepping in front of-a-out-of-control Willow. They had nattered and joked around and someone, somehow had spoken the words...

And now Xander was lying on the floor, convulsing and screaming.... gods, screaming so loudly, so in pain, those screams burrowed themselves deeply into their minds, to plague them whenever one of them would think about the heinous words that had started it all.

None of them was sure who had been the first to notice it, but soon they all became aware that Xander, his body, was changing. It started with darkness, running through his veins, replacing the blood with liquidised blackness. His hands, his fingers were growing together, forming three deadly looking claws of deepest black. His screams first rose in pitch and then lowered as his voice changed and they continued on, even as his mouth vanished, leaving behind a smooth surface of skin, deeper than the blackest night. He started trashing around and they saw that his legs were behaving rather oddly. It was a small mercy that he fell unconscious at that time.

++++

When he woke up, he was lying on a bed in the small hospital room of the Slayer house. He dimly remembered screams and pain and he felt... wrong, there was no other word to describe it, his body felt not like his one should.
Slowly he tired to move, but the pain had only dimmed, not dissipated as he had thought it had. The simple twitch of a shoulder, the clenching of a hand, and the pain was unfolding again, like a vicious clingy flower growing through his body. He groaned in pain, but even the groan was... wrong.
Wrong voice, wrong way of speaking... he didn't know where he should start with cataloguing all the changes he noticed.

"Xander?" He should have known that they would not have left him alone, that someone would be there to wait for him to wake up, but Dawn's voice sounded so uncertain, as if she did not know if it was really him laying on the bed.

"Dawnie," and that was not his voice, too deep and too scratchy. He slowly, oh so slowly turned his head towards her voice and a mass of white fell over his eyes, covering them. It was a reflex, a simple set of movements he'd used so often in his life that he wasn't really thinking about it, you have something hanging in your eyes, you use your hand to wipe it away. And that was all he'd wanted to do, trying to remove the white fluff. But when he saw his hand (not his hand, not, not, Gods, no), the horrible thing his hand had become (please no, it's a nightmare, I'll wake up soon, PLEASE), all thoughts stopped. His three-fingered hand. The hand where each finger ended in a sharp and deadly looking claw. The hand that could only be called black, because there was no name for the colour of the void of a black hole. Blacker than black, it was swallowing all the light that was reaching it.

Not real, not real, notreal notnotnotNO! And once more, he screamed.

++++

There were no words for her to say, no words of hope, no words of comfort, nothing, so she stayed silent. It had taken a long time for Xander to stop screaming, stop panicking, stop trying to rip off offensive body-parts, but finally there were no screams left inside of him. Then he'd asked for a mirror. She'd been reluctant, but in the end she'd pulled in the large dressing mirror, so that he could see what he'd become. He sat in the bed, staring at his reflection. Xander wanted nothing more than smashing that mirror, but it was out of his reach. And he couldn't stand up and walk up to it, because he had no legs, NO LEGS, left to walk with. Everything beyond his hips was a blacker than black amorphus mass which seemed to form and reform itself every single moment. No-one could look at this mass for long, it seemed to form things, dark things, evil things, that made everyone uneasy around him.

He stared into the mirror with eyes, two eyes, that were too big, that were dominating his entire face and they were glowing in a luminous cyan colour. There was no visible sclera and the pupils were white and slitted, like those of a cat. The white fluff that had fallen into his face before, seemed to have replaced his hair, and there was a lot of that stuff. It seemed to permanently float upwards, in a soaring breeze that wasn't there, as well as other, black filaments of his body. Black, blacker than black, Dark Hole black, that seemed to be the theme of his body. Except for the eyes and the hair, there was only one part of him that wasn't coloured thus, a strange, necklace-like ornament, that was coloured a bloody red and looked like he'd stolen it straight out of the mouth of a monster-shark. He wanted to scream, but how do you scream without a mouth, wanted to cry, but his new, huge eyes were unable to produce tears. They had told him how it happened, given him the name of the species he'd become, not that that was of any help for him. A three-fingered hand clenched into a fist. He was doomed to spend the rest of his suddenly very long life...

as
a Darkrai.




Fin



Since the full disclaimer would ruin the surprise, I decided to put it at the end.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the vampire slayer or any other of the characters in this story they belong to Joss Whedon and whoever else created the characters used in this story. Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and the design of the Mon is GameFreaks.... I only decided to make it more real... less cute than in the Anime

The End

You have reached the end of "W-I-S-H". This story is complete.

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