A Buffy/Star Wars crossover.
By Ranger Thorne
No, I don’t own either of them. This idea got me out of bed early on Easter Sunday and wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it. I’m not continuing it, but if someone wants to just give me credit and let me know so I can follow it.
Willow looked at the ghost costume, then tossed it aside as she almost fell onto her bed. Several emotions took up residence on her face before she finally settled on a scowl. Rising, she walked to her closet and looked around before growling and closing the door. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she looked around the room once before leaving.
A few minutes later, she came back into the bedroom with a black glove in her hand, a black shirt over her shoulder and a smirk on her lips.
Ethan had just reached the door and was about to lock it when the redhead who had been in with the Slayer almost knocked him over. “I’m sorry,” she told him, “but I changed my mind about my costume. But I know what I’m looking for. Am I too late?”
He started to send her away, but there was something about her outfit that caught his attention. Black was the color, from her boots to the slacks tucked into them to the boots, to the oversized turtleneck that had become a very short skirt once past the black belt. There was what was obviously a glove from someone with larger hands on her left hand. A silver clamp of some kind was the only color from her neck down other than her right hand.
“I was about to close,” he said, “but you can have five minutes.”
“If everything is still here I can do it in three.”
Holding up the child’s mask, he said, “I know I have some of these that aren’t broken.”
“I only need a part of it.”
He looked at the other two items on the counter and resisted the urge to laugh maniacally. “Well, in good conscience I very well can't charge you for it. In fact,” he waved a hand at her, “I’m so impressed at what I think you’re going to do I’m going to let you have it for half off.”
“And if you will tell me why the change I’ll let you have it for nothing.” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
Willow looked uncertain for a moment. “Okay,” she finally explained, “I have a guy I like, but he never notices me. And, and another friend who is always trying to help me get him to notice me but he never does and I just don’t feel comfortable with what she tells me to do so I just got angry about it and decided to just be angry and then I got the idea to do this and . . .”
“Okay,” Ethan said, placing a hand gently on her gloved one, “I understand. May I be so bold as to give this creation a name?”
Darth Wroth rose from where she had knelt on the sidewalk. For a moment, her cybernetic eye malfunctioned, then settled down and began to function normally. She held up her left hand and flexed it to make certain it was working properly, then turned to take in her surroundings.
“This is not Corulag,” she muttered.
A growl preceded the appearance of several small creatures as they headed toward her. Reaching out with the Force, she was surprised to see the dual essence of the monsters. “I do not harm children without cause!” she announced. I might require their service later.
she mentally added as she used the Force to send the creatures on their way.
“Wait a moment,” she said, moving onto the lawn beside the sidewalk, “if they have a dual presence in the Force, would that explain how I arrived here?” Kneeling on the grass, she closed her eye and reached inward.
There, a repressed mind. Willow, was it? Yes, a girl. A girl who knew not her own power. For a moment, Wroth considered destroying the other mind and taking up residence in the body. Then, a smile appeared. “Even better,” she whispered.
Shivering in terror, Elizabeth tried to crawl even farther away from the creature glaring down at her. Her dress had been all but destroyed by the claws of the beast, leaving her in little more than rags. As she contemplated the loss of more than her life, the wall behind her refused to move.
“So that’s where you went.” The creature turned to look at the source of the voice, allowing Elizabeth to see her as well.
She was just under five and a half feet tall and dressed in black. A black cloak draped over her shoulders, but the hood was pulled back to reveal long red hair. From her left cheekbone up, however, some kind of black device had taken the place of her face. Her one green eye seemed amused as it took in the scene. Her left hand, which seemed to fill the oversized glove, clenched just before the creature began to grasp at its throat and choke.
“I knew that dress would get you into trouble,” the woman said as she approached. As the monster fell to the ground, dead, she unclasped her hand and put it on her hip. “Now what should I do with you?” She knelt next to the girl. “You’re useless now, but once this is over your power might, uff!” Wroth had to stop when Elizabeth dove in to hug her, then began to cry.
“My old master would laugh himself silly if he were still alive,” Wroth grumbled as she patted the girl’s back. She pushed the girl off of herself gently. “Come, I will take you somewhere you can be safe.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth managed between sniffles.
“I’m going to have to clean my cloak,” Wroth grumbled to herself as they left.
Spike let out another growl as he exited another alley. “I don’t know why she ran off like that,” he complained to the group of vampires he’d brought with him, “but she should know better. In her condition the Slayer or one of these wanna-be’s might kill her.”
“Spike, there she is!” One of the minions pointed to the vampire in the white gown as she crossed the intersection ahead of them. He head seemed to be looking around in wonder, but her feet moved with a purpose.
“Well, come on, let’s go get my Dru.”
By the time they reached the intersection, the undead seer had crossed the next street down and was just turning to her left. It took them another two blocks before they got close. Then, as they turned a final corner, they saw Drusilla kneel before a woman wearing a black cloak with the hood pulled up.
“Mistress,” Drusilla was saying as they reached them, “take pity on my Spike. He doesn’t realize your power is greater than ours.”
“What’s all this about?” Spike demanded. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he asked, “Dru, why are you kneeling to her? She’s breathing.”
“She’s going to lead us,” was the explanation. “We serve her now.”
“No,” he argued, “she’s going to die.”
He moved toward the woman, intending to snap her neck and feed off of her blood. Her left hand came up, however, and something slammed him into a building.
“Bloody hell!” Pulling himself to his feet, he tried again. This time, arcs of lightning from her right hand caught him, leaving him rolling on the ground in pain. After what seemed like days, it ended.
“I think you should join the other vampire in kneeling before your new master,” came the woman’s voice. Wroth pulled her hood down as she looked at the other vampires. “All of you.”
Spike looked at Drusilla, then at the other vampires as they knelt, and knew he was, for now, beaten. He dragged himself next to Dru, then into a kneeling position.
Wroth leaned down so she could whisper in Spike’s ear. “I know you will betray me, Spike. But for now you will help me consolidate my control on the underworld. As long as you are useful, you will continue.”
Looking up, he finally recognized her. “Rosenberg? And,” he looked at her companion, “the Slayer? What the,” he looked more closely at the two of them. “What’s going on?”
“Judging from what I can recall,” Wroth told him as she gestured for them to rise, “it would seem to be a spell. One that will, eventually, end.” She chuckled. “Too bad.”
“Giles!” Cordelia and Xander charged into the library, causing the index cards in his hand to go flying.
“Good lord, Cordelia,” he began to admonish her, “what has you in such,” he paused as he took in their outfits, “a state?”
“Look people are turning into their costumes out there. Dweeb boy, for example,” she gestured to where Xander was standing, “thinks he’s a soldier.”
“But you haven’t,” Giles observed. He looked at Xander. “Do you know where you got your costume from?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the soldier told him, “but I’m not in a costume.”
“Would you empty your pockets, please? If you have a receipt that might help our situation.”
Xander looked at him for a moment, then sighed and placed his rifle on the table. A few seconds later, they found it.
“Ethan’s.” Giles’ demeanor became darker. “Stay here. I’ll take care of this.”
Willow knelt on the floor of her bedroom as she tried to meditate. It had been a week since Halloween. A week since the Dark Lady of the Sith had walked the streets of Sunnydale.
Holding up her hand, Willow flexed the flesh and bone appendage. For a few seconds after Giles had destroyed the bust, she had feared that the cybernetics had become real. But after prying off the cheap partial Darth Vader mask she’d cut up for an eye covering she’d seen out of her real eye.
Wroth had realized that the mitochondria of Earth were different from the midiclorians of her universe. Using the Force, she had tried to change some of them in Willow’s body so she could still use the Force once the spell had ended.
“It didn’t work,” Willow whispered, leaning back against the bed. She had been trying for a week to tap into the memories the Sith had left behind and use the Force.
Climbing to her feet, Willow said, “I’m wasting my time. There is no FORCE!” The glass in the window, the mirror and even the glass on the front of her clock radio shattered.Good. Good. You have released your anger,
a voice within Willow said. Now, embrace it, and let it make you more powerful than you have ever dreamed.
A couple walking past the house stopped as they heard the sound of laughter.