The Other Redhead In His Life
Author: Anime Ronin
Summary: A request for power brings forth a new woman in his life, one Xander’s known longer than he thinks possible.
Disclaimer: Joss owns Buffy, JKR owns Harry Potter.
AN: This fic is solely the fault of Drake the Archer. I was accused channeling Kinsfire on this… and, well, after reading some of the stuff, maybe, but Drake gets some of the fault for this… insanity. Now, on with the fic.
(Sunnydale High Library)
Xander looked first at the book on the table and then down at the floor, several times in fact, making sure that the chalk outline, the runes and placement of the runes were all correct – the ritual was to summon an entity capable of granting power, but if he screwed up, he could either be in for a world of hurt by the magic ripping him apart, or in for a world of hurt by being put into a hell dimension that would ensure he would be a demon’s love slave.
“Don’t screw up, Xander,” he muttered to himself.
He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to – no, in fact, he was QUITE happy with being his own Xander-shaped, Xander-styled persona, but apparently this put him in the minority in that none of the others wanted him around. After all, he was ‘the normal one’ who needed to be ‘fray adjacent’ – Xander’s thoughts on that was that it was a chicken-shit defense for a bunch of people who didn’t want to face the reality that, even if they had power, there were no guarantees that they would live, and his lack of them put him at a supposed disadvantage. Well, not a bunch of people, just two, Willow and Buffy. Oz could not have given a hoot in hell with the way he didn’t show emotion, Giles… well, Xander had stopped caring about what he thought a while back, and Faith… well, he had issues to work out with her, too.
“The lengths I’ll go to protect my girls,” he grumbled as he picked up a ceremonial dagger and the wooden bowl that he’d been carving for this occasion for days now. Of course, with his words there was also a touch of a lie – he was doing this to help protect them, yes, but he was doing this because short of becoming a vampire, there were few options for him. The girls could do what they wanted, they could cry, bitch, moan and even threaten him, but he knew what was out there and wasn’t going to stop.
Reading the ritual one last time, he took the knife in his right hand, cut his left palm and collected the blood in the bowl while speaking slowly, clearly, the words to summon the entity, “I call you forth, granter of power, with my blood that I willingly spill, with hope and with humility, I beseech you to come forth.” He took the bowl of blood and carefully spilled it into the center of the ritual circle, making sure to not spill anything, and when that was over he grabbed the final component, “With this sacrifice of blood and nourishment, I call you forth.” That said, he dropped the cage of living mice into the pool of blood and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long – the mice gave a horrifying screech as they all burned due to the blood catching fire, but Xander hardened his heart against their suffering, an easy feat as he wasn’t exactly fond of mice to begin with. The being that rose out of the burning blood, though, wasn’t what he expected.
“Yes? Get on with it.” She was only about a foot and a half tall, with dark red skin, a green dress-like tunic on and blonde, looking for all the world like an evil Tinkerbelle, but her foot was also tapping, and instead of a wand, this little terror had a mace in her hands. She then blinked, “Oh, you’re not her.”
Xander arched an eyebrow, “Her? No, I’m a him.”
The mace-holding entity shrugged, “Sorry, I thought you were the red-head again, Willow. She’s always calling for some reason or another, but generally to get more power than I’ve given her.” She snorted, “Though I suppose you’re here for the same thing.”
He shrugged, “But probably not the same reason.”
“You want to help out the Slayer, to be accepted, right?”
Xander paused and shrugged, “Alright, you’ve got me.”
The pixie shrugged herself, “At least you’re honest about it, though. She babbled for ten minutes trying to justify bringing me here with pig’s blood and old mice.” She then belched and rubbed her stomach, “Thanks for the real stuff, by the way.”
“No problem,” Xander replied, not wanting to irritate the winged creature. He and Willow, though, were going to have to have words…
“Alright, so… power…” She snapped her fingers and a large book opened up out of nowhere before her, a book she leafed through idly, “Hmm, I take it you want something useful, but not overly random or imposing like being turned into a mutant?” Xander nodded and she flipped some more pages, “And I take it you’re not the kind to do the sword-swinging thing, trying to be Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?”
Xander shook his head again, “Sorry, I don’t wear skirts.”
She smirked at that, “Not with those legs, baby – leather’s the way to go.” Before he could object about the leather comment, she looked up at him and frowned, “Say, quick question – what’s more important to you, what’s right or what’s good?”
“What’s right,” Xander answered after only a half-second’s thought.
“Hmm, okay. Don’t block this,” she said as she flittered up to just above his head brought her mace down with a slight ‘bonk’, which caused him to hiss, but she was apparently satisfied as she came back down to the ground and sat Indian-style, “Alright, toots, have a seat – we have to talk.” Xander did so and she went on, “Now, I have good news, bad news and possibly bad news – what one do you want first?”
“Bad news,” he answered promptly, wanting to get it out of the way.
“Alright, where I can send you, you’re going to spend a lifetime there, until you’re killed, and you’re not going to remember who you are now. You’ll be another person all together.”
Xander felt sick at the ‘until you’re killed’ bit, as if his fate was already written in stone, “Good news?”
She smirked, “What happens there, will happen here, sort of. Any skills or abilities you pick up where I can send you will transfer here, but when you come back, you’ll be 18 again.”
Xander narrowed his eyes a little, “And the possibly bad news?”
The little sprite, mostly commonly called ‘Evil Tinkerbelle’ because her name (Evilistolicuspritusistole) was unpronounceable by the human tongue, smirked up at him and flittered in front of his face, raising her mace, “You’re going now.” With that, she brought her mace down on top of his head and Xander was consumed by the blackness of unconsciousness.
Over the cries from the child that had just been born, the Medi-witch could he heard saying, “Congratulations, sir, it’s a boy.”
The older man smiled as his wife began to cry while holding their son, “Good, good.” He walked over to where his son lay on his wife’s chest and nodded at the black mess of hair that was already there, “Welcome to the family, James Potter. May you live in interesting times.”
AN: Alright, folks, that’s the end of this first part. Confused? Just wait for the next part to start…
This story’ll be worked on when I get the chance to between other chapters of other stories – I’m going for another one of my Hellsing cross right now.