Title: Young DefendersAuthor:
Right, I actually went and checked to be sure this time… Buffy the Vampire Slayer
, Angel: the Series
, and all associated characters belong to Fran and Kaz Kuzui. With a myriad of writers, artists, and editors, actual rights are a nightmare when you go near a comic book universe. Suffice it to say that Marvel Entertainment LLC owns all of the property printed in their comics, along with the television and movie adaptations of said same property. Not mine, don't sue, and so forth and so on.Summary:
"Nice rack, Xander." "…because getting compliments on tits I shouldn't even have isn't weird at all. Thanks, Kennedy."Joe's Note:
After one of my Fic-a-Day story posts, I got an email from dogbertcarroll
. I'll condense it down to the salient point in the interest of getting to what you all came for:The basic idea is that Xander gets wounded post Sunnydale and (thanks to the chaos that still clings to him) healing him with magic is a bit complicated. Willow figured out it's easier to change him thanks to the chaos and turns him into a slayer.
As a slayer he can easily heal wounds that will kill a normal human, and had an impressive rack. Which leads to a bit of drooling on Willow's part and some jealousy on Kennedy's. Willow tries to change him back once he's healed but can't get it to work right.
He wanted me to take it from there into the DC universe but that's really not my wheelhouse and my Lexipedia was too busy settling in back at home and catching up on her day job to hold my hand through even a one-shot. So I decided to keep the vague outline and the superhero theme, but spin it back in a direction I was more comfortable with…
"I'm a girl."
"It was the only-"
"You turned me into a girl."
"I had to! Otherwise, you wou-"
"You're not the Californian Goddess of Death, Willow! You don't 'have' to do anything when it comes to death. You choose to. And in this case, you decided to take away my free will! I chose to step in front of that sword for Faith, chose to sacrifice myself so that she could make the killing blow. Because I realized I was getting old. Slow. Tired. I chose to make my death mean something. To go out the same way I've lived the last decade and a half: fighting the good fight. But you decided that my choices didn't mean anything to you, so you reached in and took them away from me. And…" Reaching up, Xander Harris grabbed at his throat before whirling around to glare at the woman standing in the bathroom doorway behind him. "And it's bad enough that I'm half my age and the wrong gender, but did you have to turn me into Merida?"
Willow Rosenberg scowled, bringing a hand up to poke at Xander's far too squishy chest. "Don't take that tone of voice with me, buster. If you hadn't gotten your body so polluted with chaos magic over the years, I would have been able to heal you just fine without resorting to something like this. So if you think about it, it's actually your fault that you're like this."
Eyes widening, Xander reached up and batted Willow's hand away, suppressing the urge to apologize when he heard something in the redhead's forearm crack. She'd fix it with magic later, he consoled himself, just like she did with anything else she perceived to be 'wrong' with her world. "No, me being dead because of the choice I made would be my fault. I didn't ask you to try healing me, much less… this. So this is all completely your fault and I'm not going to let you duck responsibility. Speaking of ducking, though, I'm still waiting for an answer. Why… am… I… Merida?"
After an attempt at Resolve Face didn't sway Xander in the slightest, Willow smiled nervously as she cradled her injured arm against her chest. "Well, um, the accent is the easiest to explain." She paused, gathering her thoughts, and Xander narrowed his eyes before gesturing for her to continue. "When you were unconscious in the infirmary, I transformed you into a girl and then turned you into a Slayer so you'd have their healing. I started trying to turn you back once your body didn't, you know, have a giant hole poked in it anymore. But I couldn't. Ungirl you, I mean. So I had them keep you under for a bit longer so that I could collect some memories and copy them into your head. I mean, I think we can both agree that it would be awkward weird not-fun if one of us had to teach you how to put a bra on or how to sit properly in a skirt or what to do when your period comes aro-"
Groaning, Xander slapped his hand over Willow's mouth, cutting off her babbling. "Twenty words or less." Although while it didn't explain the accent, it did explain why he was having a hard time staying angry about his current situation no matter how hard he tried. Willow had already reprogrammed him to be fine with his girlhood. Awesome. Because nothing say friendship like a nice thorough mind fucking.
The answer came not from Willow, who stood there pouting at him petulantly, but instead from the shorter Latina who had arrived at some point and was now peeking over the redhead's shoulder at him. "Willow scooped too much out of Orla's head to shove into your brain, and now you're Scottish." Charisse Kennedy paused, using her fingers to count how many words she'd used so far, before tossing out a few more. "Nice rack, Xander."
"…because getting compliments on tits I shouldn't even have isn't weird at all. Thanks, Kennedy." Xander blew a raspberry at the utterly unapologetic Slayer before turning back to study his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his long, wild, orangish-red locks several times before ruffling it and letting out a groan. "Okay, fine, I'll accept that the accent is a side effect of a necessary evil, AKA the girl memory stuffage thing. I can always hire someone to help me mellow it out. But what about the rest of me? Was the whole body Merida makeover really necessary? Especially this hair?"
Willow shrugged helplessly. "It was supposed to be temporary, remember? We were watching Brave
the night before and Kennedy kept making jokes about giving me a makeover for some dirty Disney princess bedroom fun so Merida was bouncing around in my head and you know how magic is and… and…" Trailing off, she took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts before continuing. "And you're not really Merida. More like Merida Plus. You're older and a bit taller and prettier and improved in, uh, other ways."
Yes, Xander had noticed that. The moment he sat up in the infirmary, as a matter of fact. After all, it was hard to miss that much weight shifting on his chest, especially when there wasn't supposed to be any at all. Or how much wider his hips were, or that sitting down still felt weird because his ass seemed to arrive at its destination unexpectedly early. But rather than launch into a discussion of the choices Willow had made and how skeezy it made him feel that she'd essentially designed a jailbait sexpot body for him, Xander kept his attention firmly fixed on his hair. "And you couldn't have improved me with some straight hair? Preferably shorter straight hair? I mean, do you know how much shampoo and conditioner I'm going to go through taking care of this mane? How long it'll take me to get ready in the morning? And…" Trailing off, he frowned. Being one of the more recent additions to the platoon of Slayers he oversaw, he obviously knew the girl Willow had mentioned but not all that well. "Does Orla have a secret girly side that she's never shown me, or is being turned into a girl bringing out my inner metrosexual?"
Squeezing past Willow and entering the bathroom, Kennedy reached up and began playing with Xander's hair. "There's always door number 'C'." Xander raised an eyebrow at that. "You're awfully into Spike's soap operas, cook pretty damn well for a guy, are responsible for the majority of the castle's interior design, and I've heard you offering fashion advice to your Slayers. 'Metro' isn't the prefix I'm thinking belongs on your something-sexual." Frowning, she grabbed a hair tie out of a basket on a nearby shelf and pulled Xander's hair into a ponytail, tying it back before reaching up to prod at the sides of his head. "Hmm. We definitely need to trim the ends down to a single length… but what do you think about an undercut? Maybe even shaving both sides down? It'd take a lot of the weight off your head and cut down on maintenance…"
"First of all, not gay here. That's you and Willow and Satsu's schtick. The Xan-Man loves the ladies… which means the Xan-Girl loving the ladies makes me a lesbian, doesn't it? Huh. I'll be damned. Second of all…" Xander did his best to visualize what she was proposing, drawing on mental images of some of the Slayers currently roaming the castle who also sported the style in question. "Could work. Especially since my inner Orla screams whenever I think of pulling a Sinéad O'Connor. Because while she's not too girly, she's girly enough to be offended by that idea. Thanks again for that, Willow." Turning his head as best he could with Kennedy's hands in the way, Xander eyed the various cosmetics stacked on the shelves to his right, making note of what he did and didn't recognize, much less know how to use. "So I'm stuck like this, Willow? You're sure?"
"Pretty positive, yeah."
"And I'm guessing that bad things would happen if you tried whatever the first spell was while daydreaming about… hell, I'll take Rapunzel over Merida if you can't get your mind off Disney's girls."
"Um, since the spell was pretty much just me having a little chat with Hecate about turning a son into a daughter? I don't think it'd end well, no."
"Aging spell? Preferably old enough to drink, but I'll take voting age if that's all you can manage?"
"You know how badly most Slayers seem to age. Do you want to risk it?"
Xander cringed as he met Kennedy's eyes in the mirror. She, Satsu, and Faith were the exceptions rather than the rule when it came to the first generation Slayers. Various forms of self-destructive behavior were the norm among them, ranging from excessive alcohol and drug use to self-mutilation to questionable sexual antics to berserker-esque battlefield tactics that eventually came to an abrupt end when an enemy took advantage of their tunnel vision. Faith, in an uncharacteristic moment of introspection, had hypothesized that after a certain point, the Slayer Spirit felt the urge to move on to a younger and healthier host and… encouraged… its current vessel to hasten the jump. They had no way to either prove or disprove that theory, but Willow was right. He didn't want to risk it. "Fine. But since I know you can cast certain spells on me like this with no problem? You're going to be scooping out a few more brains for me in the next few days."
"And when she gets back from her current mission…"
"…you're the one who gets to explain all this to my girlfriend."