Title: Banished

Author: Jinni (druscilla@cox.net)

Rated: Pg13

Character: Amy Madison

Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things SG1

belong to MGM, Gekko, et al.

Distribution: The normal places.

Author’s Notes: Response to my “20 Minutes with Amy” challenge:

http://www.livejournal.com/users/tthjinni/14051.html In the world of SG1

this takes place sometimes in Season 5.

Summary: Banishment is never fun. For the person getting banished or the

ones that end up with. . .her.

~*~*~

She felt her eyes flare, dark and filled with power, watching the witch

across from her.

”I helped you!” Amy screamed at the girl she’d thought was her friend.

“You made everything worse!” Willow wasn’t screaming. She didn’t need to.

Her voice commanded power with every syllable that was uttered. “You think

magic is the solution to everything – well try this on for size!”

With a flick of her wrist the red haired witch had muttered the words that

Amy most definitely did not want to be hearing. She shut her eyes tight,

knowing there was no stopping it now. Magic lashed out at her, binding her

hands, covering her mouth. She couldn’t have spoken now even if she wanted

to.

And she prayed.

~*~*~

The sky opened up, and she fell. A few feet, a dozen feet. It didn’t matter.

When she hit the ground it was in a cloud of gritty, grainy sand. And it

hurt. Amy sniffed, refusing to cry. Banished. Not just from Sunnydale. But

from Earth. Well, her Earth anyway. This could be Earth in another

dimension, another universe. But she doubted it. Her mother had told her

about that spell once, after using it on a particularly nasty suitor that

had come to call too late at night. It sent you to another planet.

She was just lucky she could breathe, she told herself.

She crawled shakily to her feet, dusting sand from her hands, and looked at

her new ‘home’ for the first time. Sand. Dune after dune of goddess-hated

sand!

She screamed, the sound ripping through the silent desert. It split the air,

a howl of anguish and rage.

If she ever got her hands on Willow again –

That was it!

She reached inside of herself for the magic she would need to bring herself

back home, grasping with eager fingers for the power –

Only to come up short.

There was nothing! Not a single frickin’ shred of power?!?

Another scream, another sob of rage. She fell to her knees, already sweating

in the sun.

Damn her! Damn her to hell for sending her to this goddess-damned planet. A

place with not a single iota of magic! It was too frickin’ much to believe!

What kind of bad luck was plaguing her.

“Is this your idea of vengeance?” she screamed up into the bright blue sky.

“Make me weak and powerless like you were when I met you? You’re still

nothing!”

She knew that Willow couldn’t hear her. That the red head probably wouldn’t

care even if she could. She cried, laying on the sand until she felt like

she was going to cook from the outside in. This was it, death. Her

punishment for living a life filled with good times and sinful fun. With

every passing moment she could feel herself getting weaker, spurred on that

much quicker by dehydrating herself with the act of crying.

With tears still staining her cheeks, Amy shut her eyes.

Only her goddess could save her now.

~*~*~

Something wet.

On her head, wiping at skin that was painful to the touch.

She shifted, trying to get comfortable, only to find that there was no

comfort to be gained. The bedding beneath her was soft, padded, but her

entire body felt charred.

Amy moaned, and even that hurt. Her eyes were open, but she couldn’t see.

There was a cloth over them, and she felt grateful for that for some reason.

What had happened?

It came back to her in flashes that were just as painful as the moments

themselves. Willow, figuring it all out. That Dark Magic wasn’t the thing

for her, and getting rid of the supposed source of her problem. Being

banished to a literal place of burning, sandy hell.

And now this.

She moved her hand, and heard voices talking. Not in English. Someone pulled

away the cloth and she was looking into the face of a young man, not much

more than a boy. His hair was dark, front pieces bound ‘round with what

looked like bits of twine, white against black.

He said something, and she shook her head, not understanding. They had saved

her. This people. She wanted to feel thankful, but couldn’t bring herself to

do it. They had saved her for what? To live out her life in this bleak

place, with not even the barest scrap of magic to make it tolerable.

“I’d rather have died,” she muttered.

“Would you?”

Amy’s head jerked back in the direction of the boy, eyes widening. Raw,

burned skin scraped across the lump of cloth behind her head, sending sparks

of pain shooting through her mind. When she could speak again, it was with

incredulousness. “You speak English?”

“I do,” he nodded. “I had already guessed that you did as well, from the way

you are dressed. You are. . .from Earth?”

She nodded, struggling to sit up. “You know of it? Do you know a way back? I

’m. . .lost.”

He smiled winningly. “We have summoned our friends, from Earth. They will

arrive shortly. You may discuss this with them at that time, yes?”

Amy’s cracked lips spread open in a smile. She didn’t know how the people on

this forsaken little piece of sand knew about Earth. She didn’t care how

they were going to get in touch with their friends.

All that mattered was that they did, and she got a chance to speak with

these. . .friends.

A boy rushed into the tent, jabbering in that language her new ‘friend’ had

spoken to her in initially. Her rescuer nodded once, said something short,

and the boy ran off again.

“They are here. You’re safe.”

Amy felt the smile on her lips spread, though not nearly wide enough to

match the one in her soul as first one, then two, then two more, people that

looked straight out of the US military walked through the tent’s ‘doorway’.

A younger man with blondish-brown hair, an old guy with gray hair, a blonde

haired woman and a tall dark-skinned guy. The woman she wasn’t sure about,

but the men would be easy enough. She’d make them see that she was no

threat, that she’d been sent here unjustly.

And that there was a bigger threat out there – in the form of dark witch by

the name of Willow Rosenberg.

~*~End Fic~*~