Restive Nature Site Photo

Fiction- AtHwA01- Roaming The Underground

Title: All That Heaven Will Allow

Chapter Title: Prologue- Roaming The Underground

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. I also do not own the rights to Charmed. They belong to the WB. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Angst, Action, Humor

Pairing: canon pairings in both shows

Summary: Slayer dreams and Whitelighter-Witch hybrid powers collide when the veil between worlds come close to collapsing. Can baby Wyatt survive life on the Hellmouth?

Spoilers/ Time line: Season 4 (after “Harsh Light Of Day”) of Buffy and Season 6 (after “Forget Me... Not”) Of Charmed.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This was one of my contributions started for NaNoWriMo 2012. The story was by no means completed in that month and I am looking forward to continuing it.

A/N2: There is a definite time difference between these two worlds and the seasons that I am using. This will hopefully, be explained within the fiction itself.

All That Heaven Will Allow

Prologue

Roaming The Underground

Buffy had that sense. The one where you knew you were dreaming. And it was an interesting dream. But fairly standard for dreaming a dream of the non slayer type person. Unfortunately, she had also come to realize, that those moments where she knew that she was dreaming? Those were the dreams that became something more. More, because she was a Slayer and she had started an important albeit unrealized until now, journey. She was learning to tap into some of her more esoteric powers. Dream listening, deep listening, were some of those powers. Or maybe just what she called them deep in her own psyche. That's what you got when you put the Slayer in psych class.

In a way, she had always had the deep listening. Or perhaps it wasn't listening. But it was some sense of when Vampires and other demons were around her, as contrasted by normal everyday people. And the dreams too. That was one of the clues as to how she had had it confirmed that she was indeed a Slayer. She'd been having dreams of past Slayer's battles before she'd ever met Merrick, her first Watcher, back in Los Angeles.

And now dream listening, the power to sort of wake yourself up in the dream you were in and say to yourself, 'pay attention' because 'this is important'.

But she must have been getting better at it, she decided, as she was walking down an eerily quiet hallway. She recognized it as part of the college campus she attended at UC Sunnydale. It led to her World History class. She entered the room and took her seat, only to find that it was a test day. Taking tests was hardly monumental in the world of the Slayer. The time passing too quickly and having her pencil break was a little more familiar to her usual stress produced dreams.

Strangely though, Buffy could see and dedicate to memory, every step perfectly as she rose from her seat, moved down to the pencil sharpener, and with another student ahead of her, glanced at the swiftly moving clock once more. The other student turned, her sleeve snagging on the ragged point of Buffy's pencil, tearing her clothes. And then the dream shifted, so swiftly, startling Buffy momentarily.

The new place she was in was much more familiar, over and above the classrooms on the college campus. The caverns, twisting paths, caves and she knew, with a chill running up her spine, that she was somewhere within the Hellmouth itself. Wary, watchful, Buffy waited, sensing something coming in the dream and was very startled to see a baby appear on the floor of the cave she stood in. She tilted her head, puzzled when the child noticed her and lifted one hand from its position at it's side. Almost like it was reaching for her. The child cried out and a dark form appeared between them. It crouched over the child menacingly and even as Buffy cried out a warning, a haze of swirling lights surrounded the child. And then it disappeared.

She did as well, feeling like something was yanking her body in total. Not like a pull in just one part, like an arm or her middle. Like someone yanking on her to get her attention, this felt different from those. She ended up in a new section, but still, she was sure, in the Hellmouth. And then the child appeared once more. The swirling lights were her only clue before it fully formed on the floor of the cavern. The child lifted its hand once more and when Buffy took a step closer to it, the infant smiled.

And then she was gone, back to the world of light, above. Disorienting slightly, but she recovered quickly in the dream. She was sitting in Giles' apartment, watching as a tea cup's handle cracked, the cup breaking away to spill all over her lap, burning her knee with hot liquid. Even as she gasped at the anticipation of the burn, she moved or was moved again. This time she was with Xander, on the streets of Sunnydale, about to walk across the street, talking to her friend, when Xander suddenly yanked her back and a car horn honked at her as it sped by.

And then she was back in her dorm room, Willow dashing in to gather up candles and herbs and other magical mentions that denoted some sort of spell casting awaiting her words. Instead of watching, or helping, Buffy slowly turned, glancing up to see a clock on the wall. But they didn't have a clock on their wall. She made sure to note the time, but was unsure if it was day or night time. She glanced to her right, looking out the window to see that night had fallen.

And it was then that she heard the first words truly spoken in her dream, though she knew that words and conversation had been there. Voices overlapped upon each other, but they were all the same things being said. Men and women, all calling for the same.

'Wyatt? Wyatt baby? Oh God! Wyatt? Where's Wyatt!”

Chapter One- Today, Of All Days

Fiction- AtHwA02- Today of All Days

Title: All That Heaven Will Allow

Chapter Title: Chapter One- Today, Of All Days

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. I also do not own the rights to Charmed. They belong to the WB. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Angst, Action, Humor

Pairing: canon pairings in both shows

Summary: Slayer dreams and Whitelighter-Witch hybrid powers collide when the veil between worlds come close to collapsing. Can baby Wyatt survive life on the Hellmouth?

Spoilers/ Time line: Season 4 (after “Harsh Light Of Day”) of Buffy and Season 6 (after “Forget Me... Not”) Of Charmed.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This was one of my contributions started for NaNoWriMo 2012. The story was by no means completed in that month and I am looking forward to continuing it.

A/N2: There is a definite time difference between these two worlds and the seasons that I am using. This will hopefully, be explained within the fiction itself.

All That Heaven Will Allow

Chapter One

Today, Of All Days

“Buffy! Wake up!” Willow grunted, shoving at her friend's shoulder once more. She glanced worriedly at the clock on the nightstand table as her blond friend continued to mumble under her breath. She listened for a moment, then shook her head. Whatever it was, it couldn't be as important as her friend and dorm mate getting up and hurrying. “Buffy! You're late!”

“Wha-?” her friend asked suddenly, eyes wide and then blinking rapidly before squinting against, most likely the amount of natural streaming into the room. Not to mention the overhead light Willow had snapped on when she had returned. “Willow? What?”

“Exactly,” Willow grunted with a small frown. Her friend's look of confusion increased as Willow relaxed slightly on the edge of the bed. “That's what you were muttering.”

“I was?” she asked, looking still just as confused for a moment and then shook her head. “No... Wyatt.”

“Wyatt?” Willow frowned, thought momentarily about it and then smirked. “Who's that? Some campus cutie that's caught your eye? Because that would be a nice thing to dream about.”

“No Wills,” Buffy protested before falling back to lay a little straighter, covering her eyes with her forearm. “It was a baby. Someone was calling his name.”

“Oh,” Willow's voice held more than a smidgen of disappointment. “Well then, if it was just that, then you need to get up. Now!”

“Huh?” Buffy gaped at her friend for a moment. “What's the big deal Willow? I have dreams all the time. It's not all Slaying and gore and cryptic whatchamacallits.” She grinned then. At least not every night, even though this last night... but still, there hadn't been gore. Or any actual slaying.

“The big deal is you slept through class,” Willow pointed out. “Don't you remember me waking you up earlier?”

Buffy tried to think a moment and she did sort of vaguely remember that Willow had gotten up, charging around the room as she had prepared herself for the day. Buffy had watched with bleary eyes, amused at her friend's scholarly vigor. Willow had had a date with her boyfriend Oz, to meet for breakfast, so she had rushed off, promising to see Buffy in class. But then, that's where things kind of got hazy. “I slept through class?” she echoed and Willow nodded slowly and pointedly. Buffy thought on it for a moment and then shrugged one shoulder. “Eh, it's not big deal if I miss one eensy little class. I mean, how many classes did I miss in high school? And I still managed to graduate.”

“It's not that Buffy,” Willow sighed. “It's the one we have coming up, remember? Big test.”

“Big test?” Buffy repeated, feeling like a record on a turntable, with the needle stuck in one position. And then it came back to her. The big test in history to see what they had retained from their first section of study material. She flew up from her supine position, nearly dislodging Willow, who expediently moved out of the way, just in time. “Oh! Big test! What time is it?”

Willow simply pointed at the clock.

“Crap!” Buffy snapped. Not enough time for her morning routine. Barely enough time to get there before the professor locked the door against late comers. Did she even have time to get dressed? “Why didn't you call me?” she demanded helplessly of her friend as she scrambled out of the bed and Willow rose behind her to start gathering up Buffy's school items.

“I did!” Willow protested. “You didn't answer. So I figured that you were on your way. Or stuck somewhere else. Or had a Slaying situation. Or Giles needed you. Or maybe something happened to your mom. Or Xander. It could have been Xander. He's not around all the time anymore for us to keep an eye on.”

“Okay, okay, I get it Wills,” Buffy nodded impatiently as she yanked clothes from the closet. Whatever was closest to hand that didn't clash grossly was what she came away with.

Underwear and socks were just grabbed from their respective drawers in the small dresser that resided in the room. Knowing that Willow wasn't the peeping Jane type, Buffy had little compunction about changing around her roommate. It was the sort of thing that happened occasionally. Once she was ready to go, she turned, trying to soothe the few fly aways she had, to see Willow holding out her book bag.

“I threw your brush and some gum in there,” Willow smiled kindly. “Now let's go!”

The girl's rushed from their room, barely pausing to check the knob to make sure that the door was locked. Not just because they kept weapons in their room, but who knew what creep might take it in his or her head to get happy with their personal belongings. It was something the Resident Advisor had handed pamphlets out on at the start of the year. They wove through the hallway, where people were moving at their own paces. Thankfully, the lecture hall where their class took place was not too far from Stevenson Hall, which they resided in.

They arrived just as the professor was counting down the seconds on his watch hand. As the girls smiled up at him, relieved that they weren't late, he gave them a brief nod of acknowledgment. Buffy was the last person in and he pulled the door shut behind her and turned to move back to his desk at the front of the room, while Buffy followed after Willow to reach their usual seats.

“All right,” Professor Gold announced, his voice booming. “As you were warned, a test to see what cumulative knowledge you've retained from our curriculum on the first few weeks. You have the entire class to complete the section. And as warned, there are multiple choice, answer style and two bonus essay questions.”

The class was nodding along with his statements as he began passing back the slim notebook style tests. He divided them evenly among the rows and the students began lifting them over their heads to pass them back to the next in line. Once everyone had their tests, they waited for his approval to start and there was a flurry of paper and the scratching of pencils. It wasn't that different from high school after all.

Buffy was relieved that she and Willow had crammed for this test over a series of nights. She'd have never been prepared for this if she'd tried to shove the information back into her brain in one night. She was feeling good, despite the rushing of the morning. Of course that all had to end when the end of her pencil snapped. With a frown, she reached for her book bag, to find the pencil sharpener that she carried with her. But it wasn't there.

Quickly weighing her options, she knew that because it was test time, she'd be in trouble if she tried to borrow Willow's. And unfortunately all of her other pencils were brand new, unused and therefore, unsharpened at all. That left rising from her seat and using the pencil sharpener at the teacher's desk, which as it turned out, wasn't a problem apparently, as another girl had a similar problem to her own. Buffy rose from her seat, after flipping her test over. Not like anyone would want to cheat off her, but if she wasn't doing as well as she thought she was, she didn't want anyone to notice either.

With a whispered word of apology, she made her way to the aisle and then down to the teacher's desk. She held up her pencil as the teacher glanced up at her. Seeing her and another girl with the same problem, he shook his head wearily, that same look upon his face that her mother always had whenever Buffy had been young and had inevitably gotten dirty while wearing good clothes. Buffy grinned a little at that thought and turned her attention back to her path. But apparently she was too late as the girl ahead of her had already finished sharpening her pencil and had turned to return to her seat. It was obvious from her gasp that she hadn't realized that Buffy had been behind her.

“Oh! Ow!” the girl had winced. And Buffy looked down, wide eyed.

“Oh, oh my God,” she gasped as well. “I'm so sorry. I didn't realize... I swear, I'll pay to replace it. I didn't hurt you did I?” she winced.

“Oh, no. Don't worry about it,” the other girl shook her head quickly, even as she pressed her other hand to where Buffy's pencil had caught on her sweater, ripping a hole into it. Buffy was concerned about that, but it was more, the angry red mark underneath that she had glimpsed.

“Is there a problem Ms. Summers?” the professor questioned quietly from across the expanse of his desk. “Ms. Quincy?”

“Oh, sorry,” Buffy grimaced and held up her pencil while the other girl held up her arm.

“Just an accidental run in,” Ms. Quincy, Buffy couldn't remember her first name, pulled the sweater up to reveal the worrisome damage. It was easy to see the small scrape, but thankfully, no punctures. The girl turned back to Buffy. “And really, don't worry about replacing the shirt. It was one my grandma chose. I've been looking for an excuse not to wear it again.”

Buffy smiled at the obvious attempt to placate any hard feelings.

“That's fine then, so if we could please refrain from distracting the rest of the class, hmm?” their professor prompted heavily. Both girls gave him apologetic smiles and the other stepped around Buffy so that the way to the pencil sharpener was clear.

It wasn't until she stepped up to the manual piece of machinery that Buffy suddenly flashed back to her dream. Her eyes were narrow as she stared down uncomprehendingly at the simple class room equipment.

She had to get to Giles!

Chapter Two- Due Consideration

Fiction- AtHwA03- Due Consideration

Title: All That Heaven Will Allow

Chapter Title: Chapter Two- Due Consideration

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. I also do not own the rights to Charmed. They belong to the WB. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Angst, Action, Humor

Pairing: canon pairings in both shows

Summary: Slayer dreams and Whitelighter-Witch hybrid powers collide when the veil between worlds come close to collapsing. Can baby Wyatt survive life on the Hellmouth?

Spoilers/ Time line: Season 4 (after “Harsh Light Of Day”) of Buffy and Season 6 (after “Forget Me... Not”) Of Charmed.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This was one of my contributions started for NaNoWriMo 2012. The story was by no means completed in that month and I am looking forward to continuing it.

A/N2: There is a definite time difference between these two worlds and the seasons that I am using. This will hopefully, be explained within the fiction itself.

All That Heaven Will Allow

Chapter Two

Due Consideration

“So what do you think?” Buffy asked, nervously wringing her hands as her mentor and former Watcher, Rupert Giles, straightened his glasses upon his face. He regarded her with all the solemnity of his professions, multiple since, while one as a librarian, was a cover that he used to explain the other as Watcher to the active Slayer, it was one that had attracted his interest.

“I think that, based upon your familiarity with the Slayer dreams that you've had before,” he offered carefully, “then we should give due consideration to this as well. You said it centered around a baby?”

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded, her fingers ceasing their twisting, now that she had gotten everything out. “It was weird though,” she frowned. “I mean, a baby? In a cave? Who would have put it there?”

“I can't say,” Giles sighed. “I would think that it's perhaps a... a representational image. Or perhaps a mislead of some sort. Perhaps there is something there that wants infants. Don't forget the Mayor and the ritual of Larconis,” he reminded her. Buffy shuddered slightly. As if stopping a demon wanting to ascend hadn't been bad enough. The thing, she couldn't call it a man, because it hadn't been for so long, was perfectly willing to sacrifice innocent babies to that other demon for tribute. If that wasn't ick on the gross factor to a billionth, then she didn't know what was.

“I don't think it was Giles,” Buffy argued as she watched the man reaching for the tea pot that he had settled on the tray of goodies that he had started preparing the moment she had showed up on his doorstep. She had assured him that she would have been there sooner, but she had had to finish her test. College might be a little like high school, but no teacher ever accepted 'sorry I had a bad dream last night and need to tell my old librarian about it,' as an acceptable excuse to leave a test without finishing it.

“You think it was an actual child?” Giles smiled. It wasn't that he was fond of the thought, but more bemusement over the girl that was having said thoughts.

Buffy nodded. “And something was hunting it. Something wanted it. And it was getting away somehow. Going from one spot to another.”

“Teleporting?” Giles clarified, glancing up with surprise, but then his face grew bemused again. “I'm afraid I haven't heard tell of a baby that had a magical power such as that. It takes magical adepts an incredibly long time to even reach a level such as that.”

“Well,” Buffy sighed doubtfully, “you said it might be a representational image. What if it's someone in trouble and um...”

“Perhaps it means an innocent?” Giles finished for her. He was nodding, but then paused to pour out the hot tea. He passed it to her without incident and Buffy stared down at the beverage that she settled partially on her lap, wary of the heat it produced. “That certainly could hold merit.” He poured for himself and after settling the tea pot back into its cozy, relaxed back into his seat. “I suppose I could make some calls.”

“Thanks Giles,” she sighed in relief. “I mean, there wasn't any object. Like you know, some thing that someone's after, that I can find and protect or destroy... Well, other than the baby. But that would be a protect thing. You know?”

“And how much time do you think we have?” Giles wondered. He had retrieved a notebook from a pile of books that was nearby. In actuality, though he seemed very laid back, it was obvious that he was interested, not only in what his Slayer was doing and expecting. But in solving this puzzle.

“I couldn't say for sure,” Buffy explained, leaning forward again, cradling the mug in her hands. “I mean, the pencil in the sweater thing? That was first, so I know the dream was real. The other stuff, it came after, but I don't know if it was giving me a time line. The baby in the cave, it was night time, I think.” She noticed some loose material in her pants, along the side seam and picked absently at it while she contemplated things. “It's weird, that things were jumping back and forth.”

“Perhaps its an extension of your powers growing,” Giles remarked mildly. “you did say that you're getting better at recognizing these dreams, as opposed to your other more, mundane shall we say-!”

Whatever Giles was about to say fell by the wayside as the door to his apartment burst open.

“Hey Giles!” Xander's hearty voice boomed out. He was surprisingly cheerful for it being the morning still and having to come to Giles' apartment for the ongoing organization of books that Giles had hired him to help with.

But the effect on Buffy, who had been centered on her thoughts, focus narrowed, startled visibly at his entrance. Before either man could say anything, she had twisted in her seat, taken off guard and reacted instinctively. Her hand, tightening on the handle of the mug she held, was a little too tight with her strength in one hand alone and the piece cracked. Unable to support the weight of the mug and the tea inside, it fell straight down.

Right into her lap.

With a pained cry, Buffy jumped to her feet, bumping into the coffee table, causing a cascade of books and cookies to slide around.

“Dear lord,” Giles yelped as he swiftly settled his mug on a side table and began to reach for the young woman that was the closest thing he had to a daughter. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, sorry Buff, my bad” Xander winced as he pushed the front door shut behind himself. “Didn't mean to...” he trailed off as he bypassed Giles' dining room table and came around the end of the sofa. Buffy was hastily trying to wipe the excess of moisture from her legs as Giles supplied her with napkins.

“It's okay,” she tried to reassure them. “Just a little burn. The tea was... hot.” Her eyes grew wide again, her hand pausing in mid swipe. And then she turned to her Watcher. “Giles! This was another clue. It's going to happen tonight.”

“Are you sure Buffy?” Giles demanded, pulling his glasses from his face to peer up at her from his seated position. “That seems a little...”

“What's the what?” Xander wondered, his eyes darting between his best friend and their mentor. “Are we having problems on the level of bad? Are things gonna get bad again?”

Buffy shook her head before turning to address her friend. “Slayer dream this morning. Little time. Something is after a baby.”

“Now Buffy,” Giles protested, reaching for a handkerchief to clean his glasses with. “We've just agreed it may not be an actual infant.”

“I don't know Giles,” she groaned, reaching to rub at her sore knee, realizing that her mug of hot liquid had been completely disregarded by the others. She shuffled her feet a little to avoid stepping in the puddle it had created. It was rapidly being absorbed into the rug there. “Everything else that's happened from the dream had been a literal interpretation. I poked my classmate with my broken pencil and ripped her sweater. The mug handle broke and I spilled tea on my knees. What else has to happen before we believe that there's a baby,” she held up her hand and raised her voice slightly to be heard over Giles' murmured objection, “or an innocent, that needs my help?”

“That's all I was asking for,” Giles offered placatingly. “But yes, I do believe that we're working on a short time line. I should just like for you to be aware that it may not be an actual infant.”

“Okay,” Buffy conceded easily. “So what are we going to do?”

“Avengers assemble,” Xander grunted with a shrug. “Easy peasy.”

“Quite,” Giles grinned and then wiped the look from his face before the young man saw it and thought he might have a little more leeway for his natural buffoonery. He replaced his glasses on his face and stood to pocket his handkerchief. “We should gather and research this. I'll begin with calling some contacts of mine. They're much more versed in natural magics and would have their ear to the ground about whom this innocent that needs protection might be. If nothing else, perhaps their Seer can scry for an answer.”

“Okay, good,” Buffy nodded.

“Should we call Wills?” Xander wondered. “She'd be good on the researchy side of things.”

Buffy glanced at her wrist, turning it so she could see the face of her watch that had been tucked into her book bag. She grunted softly. “No, she's just finishing up a class. And there's no guarantee she'd go back to our room. It's almost lunch time.”

“So we go, we find?” Xander decided. Buffy nodded.

“That seems easiest,” she figured. “Maybe we can grab a bite on the go. I have until seven tonight to work this out.”

“Yikes,” Xander frowned and then stepped back so that the Slayer could make her way to the front door. “I'll make a donut stop for sure then.”

“Don't forget the jellies,” Giles reminded him absently, already looking through his address book to find the names of the people he intended to call.

Chapter Three- Impending Something

Fiction AtHwA04- Impending Something

Title: All That Heaven Will Allow

Chapter Title: Chapter Three- Impending... Something

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. I also do not own the rights to Charmed. They belong to the WB. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Angst, Action, Humor

Pairing: canon pairings in both shows

Summary: Slayer dreams and Whitelighter-Witch hybrid powers collide when the veil between worlds come close to collapsing. Can baby Wyatt survive life on the Hellmouth?

Spoilers/ Time line: Season 4 (after “Harsh Light Of Day”) of Buffy and Season 6 (after “Forget Me... Not”) Of Charmed.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This was one of my contributions started for NaNoWriMo 2012. The story was by no means completed in that month and I am looking forward to continuing it.

A/N2: There is a definite time difference between these two worlds and the seasons that I am using. This will hopefully, be explained within the fiction itself.

All That Heaven Will Allow

Chapter Three

Impending... Something

“Anything Giles?” Buffy demanded as she watched wearily as her mentor and father figure hung up the phone.

“That was a coven I've worked in the past with,” Giles explained, crossing something off his list on the pad of paper before him. He rubbed at his forehead, his frustration easy to see before he turned to the Slayer. “They said that they were unable to locate, pinpoint, or otherwise sense an innocent of the nature you described in or around Sunnydale.”

Buffy deflated slightly, her shoulders hunching, her arms crossed and tapping her forefinger against the crook of her elbow. “I'm not making this up Giles,” she warned. The feeling of impending... something, had been growing all day. From the moment she had rushed out of her classroom to make it to Giles, looking for help, assurances. And as the feelings had grown, it was almost like the urgency was taking hold of her, the fear that a baby, a helpless infant was somewhere dark and scary, needing her... It was almost like she was connected mystically, emotionally to the baby and she couldn't understand why, other than a need to save him, as she would save others. “Did you mention his name?”

“Yes,” Giles nodded sharply once. “And while it's not that common of a first name, they were still, unable to pinpoint it in that manner. Buffy,” he exhaled heavily, “they also said that the energies of the Hellmouth, even from a distance, can and will interfere with any spell they can try.”

“So the baby might be here and they just can't be sure?” was what Buffy extrapolated from that. She threw her arms up. “Well, that's just great! Giles, I need to get out there. It's getting late!”

“We get that Buff,” Xander assured her from his seat between his best friend Willow and the girl that seemed to want something of him. The ex-demon Anya that had been on the fringes of their group before. Oz, who luckily had no band practice or performance that evening, and it not being a full moon that would transform him to his werewolf state, had come as well. He had been witness, while getting coffee with the manager of the Bronze, discussing the scheduele of performing again at the club, Buffy's near miss with the vehicle when she was heavy in conversation with Xander. She had been trying to convince her friend of the urgency with which she had to find this child, which was her only explanation of why she had missed the ca heading for her.

He had excused himself from his meeting to check on her, seeing from across the street, how shaken she was, even though Xander had pulled her out of harm's way. When she had explained the situation, he had volunteered to go get Willow, since he knew her class schedule as well as Buffy. They had agreed and gone on to get food to fuel their research session.

Anya had simply shown up at Giles when she couldn't find Xander at any other location. When she had complained about the time her search had taken, Xander had coolly informed her that he was busy for the evening. If she wanted to spend time with him, to grab a book and join in. If not, he'd see her later. With a huffiness, Anya had stared around at the group before taking the book that Xander held upm, without looking at her, mind you and plopped herself down onto the sofa beside him.

“You know it's not as simple as that,” Giles sighed, tossing his glasses onto the table before turning back to the others. “Unless you recognize where the baby or innocent was,” he stressed heavily, still not convinced that it was a literal child that was in danger, “then there are hundreds of miles of caverns to search and that's inside the city limits.”

“I know Giles!” Buffy cried out, wincing at the thought. She was very familiar with the cavern and sewer systems of this town. She was the one that made a habit of regularly going into them to fight the evil. “I just,” she began, trying to breathe deeply, “I need to do something,” she offered, feeling more useless at this point in time than she'd ever felt before.

“Did you ever consider,? Anya began in a conversational tone as she idly leafed through yet another tome in Giles' impressive personal library, “that maybe the baby isn't from this world?”

“What do you mean Anya?” Giles asked sharply, reaching for his glasses and pushing them onto his face with short, jerky movements. The blond ex-demon shrugged and then turned to face the older man, realizing quickly that all attention was on her. She looped her close arm over the back of the sofa before she explained.

“Well, if your friends in this coven couldn't find this magic baby,” she began, “and they say that there's no baby anywhere in the world, which you think is something that someone, somewhere would hear about, because you know how witches like to gossip, then maybe he's not from this world.”

“Well, yes,” Giles agreed with the logic, though his opinion of her opinion was clearly lacking. “It's certainly possible. But the amount of magics required for an infant... not to mention a highly trained adept to move through dimensions... the idea is quite laughable Anya,” he sniffed derisively.

“But if he was from another dimension, since there are several that practice magic in their daily lives, without repercussions,” Anya continued, nonplussed at Giles' attitude, “and he was in danger, maybe someone sent him here for protection.”

There was quiet for a moment as the others absorbed this idea and then it was Willow who leaned forward. “Maybe that's why you've been feeling this way Buffy,” she suggested quietly. “Maybe if someone spelled this child here, they needed someone to know. I mean, if we have ways of getting information about other dimensions, you'd think they'd have ways about knowing about us. And maybe they chose you, knowing that you could protect the baby.”

“Which I guess would be okay,” Buffy sighed heavily, though the thought of anyone trusting her with a baby, especially as young as she still was, was incredible. “If they'd just have given us more clues than in a cave, somewhere, sometime tonight!”

“It would have to be a nexus,” Anya prompted with an informed nod of her head. “Otherwise, spells that rip apart dimensional fabric cause all sorts of problems.”

“Problems?” Xander repeated, looking uncomfortable with the thought. “What kind of problems Ahn?”

“Oh, things like other creatures being sucked through,” Anya began rambling, “vortexes created unintentionally that suck up everything in their path, cross breeding of creatures that find themselves in a new world, which is where the Grapohfa's came from. Nasty little buggers. They need to be squished. No redeeming qualities from those little cheats!”

“Anya, can you concentrate here?” Xander pressed, a tiny hint of humor underlying his tone.

“So if there was a nexus around here,” Willow began, glancing at Giles, who shook his head and shrugged. “What would we have to do to find it.”

“There's a nexus blanketing this entire town,” Anya told her. “That's why it's so popular with demons. Or,” she cocked her head, considering, “one of the reasons why.”

“Yes,” Giles nodded impatiently, “but Anya, nexuses are, by themselves, neutral. To say that one is... is...”

“Yes, the one that covers Sunnydale is predominantly evil now,” she agreed. “But that's because it feeds from those around it and since mostly evil things come here, that's what it's been getting. But then, it also balances out a little bit by people like her,” she pointed at Buffy. “And well, all of you really. You don't have to be magical or mystical for a nexus. It works off of intention.”

“So we're not facing demon army invasion anytime soon,” Oz concluded and Anya nodded her assent. “Good to know.”

“So,” Willow began, her words slow, her face tight as she was obviously working something out in her mind, “if there was teleporting activity going on in the town, would we be able to pinpoint that?” she glanced to Giles, then Anya, as they would be the most likely to know the answer. And then she glanced at Buffy. “I mean, you said that you saw me getting magical supplies. Obviously we're supposed to try something,” she suggested awkwardly.

“There is a ritual you could perform,” Anya agreed immediately. “Remember? We did it last year, when I was trying to get my pendant back.”

“Oh, right,” Willow winced. “I, uh, I don't know if I want to try that again. It was... it was bad.”

“Yes,” Giles agreed dryly and then cleared his throat. “Precisely what did that ritual entail? Remind me Willow.”

“We uh, had a representation of the object we wished to retrieve,” Willow explained and when she saw very little censure from the older man, her voice swelled quickly to explain the rest. They were all familiar with the episode, though not the details other than it had been a spell gone wrong. Knowing that it had brought through a Vampirized version of Willow from an alternate dimension, the results were indeed, bad.

“That was because I already knew where I had lost my pendant,” Anya explained. “It was here, in Sunnydale. So I didn't need the first part of the ritual. To pinpoint which nexus I wanted to go through.”

“But is there a way of doing that?” Buffy wondered, speaking up finally. She sort of had the idea of where the baby would be, but she knew already that others would be dismissive of or at least argue against her plan. And maybe make her too late to do anything about it. “Can you track something like that?”

“Oh easily,” Anya chuckled, waving one hand dismissively. “A map, some stinky herbs, a few chants, map lights up wherever there's recent activity. I can even charm it to show incoming activity.”

“Then, uh, why aren't we doing that?” Xander demanded of the girl and she threw him a confused look before shrugging.

“Because you didn't ask until now,” she supplied easily. Xander inhaled sharply and then, giving the others a tight grin that silently asked them to forgive him for bringing this exasperating woman back into the fold, even if it wasn't direcly or intended, leaned forward.

“Ahn, it would be... very human to speak up and provide details so that we can avoid the boring reading of the books that aren't going to help us anyways,” he explained as patiently as he could, before glancing at Giles. “No offense or anything.”

“Well, it's not like Buffy rescuing a child has anything to do with me,” she shrugged, her self interest extremely clear. And offensive.

“Until demons get a hold of the baby and turn him into an evil killing machine gunning for humans,” Oz pointed out moderately. “And since you're human now, you might be first on his list.”

“Oh, that's true,” Anya realized, taking his words at much more than an attempt at humor. She glanced around looking panicked. “That's very true. Give me that paper, I'll make a list of the ingredients we need. Hurry!”

Giles, hiding his exasperation once more, tore off the piece of paper that he had been using and then handed the pad of paper and pen over to Xander, who in turned placed them in Anya's grasping hands.

“Let's see,” she muttered as she began scribbling and then paused to look to Giles, “we'll need Dorshivan's Guide, to make sure the ritual is precise. It's been a while since I had to use the first part. When I was a demon, I could just sense the focal point of the nexus. I can't now, obviously.”

“I have a copy of that,” Giles announced, rising from his seat. “Though...”

“It can move around a little,” Anya grunted, seeming a little perturbed that he seemed to be questioning her. “It's not like it's nailed down.”

Buffy, who had been watching the interaction of her friends, felt a relief, though not a relaxing. Finally, things were getting done!

AtHwA~AtHwA

Settled in the enclosed solarium of the Halliwell Manor, Piper stared absently at the coffee table placed before the wicker chair she had chosen to sit in. Her sister's could see that rather than staring at it, she was looking through it or beyond or not even really seeing it, something weighing heavily on her mind. It was unnecessary to ask, unless they wanted to pinpoint the specific worry that was prevalent in the cycle of worries. Baby Wyatt, Leo, demons, Chris, there were all a lot on their plates. But as simply Wyatt's aunts, and Leo's sister in laws, they weren't precisely in the center of things. This time at least.

It still hurt and was still scary, but this was their life. Phoebe and Paige tried to constantly assure Piper that they were doing all they could to find the evil that Chris, the newest addition to their lives, and not an entirely welcome one, tried to warn them of.

Finding out that the Whitelighter had come from the future to protect Wyatt, to prevent the half witch half Whitelighter, not the first of his kind, since his aunt Paige had preceded him, from turning evil, they had accepted this. Knowing how close she had come, when she had first come into her powers after Prue, the eldest Halliwell sister had been killed, Paige was ever vigilant. The Source of All Evil had almost swayed her, manipulated her into using her witchy powers for personal gain, making her think that it was a good thing, to use mystical powers on a problem that they saw all too often in the world.

Little Wyatt hadn't had the benefit of several decades of a responsible upbringing, training and an understanding of right and wrong, good and evil. He was still so young and though his examples were good, he was still in such a malleable state of mind. The argument that Piper had used against the Cleaners, those beings that protected the anonymity and secrecy of true magic in the world, could only hold so much weight. She was his mother and it was her job to look after all his needs, physical, mental, emotional and magical. But she wasn't superwoman. This week anyway.

“How you holding up there sweetie?” Phoebe, the empathetic middle sister asked as she leaned towards Piper.

“Not only is every demon gunning for me and my sister's, but they want to steal my child and not threaten him, but turn him against us,” Piper snarked wearily. “They want to take over the world through a baby. My baby,” she stressed and then turned her eyes to her sister. “And we don't know when, or who or how...”

“We'll protect him,” Paige offered urgently, leaning forward to provide her own support. “you know that honey. We'll do everything we can-!”

“But we don't know Paige!” Piper snapped. “We don't know when it's coming or how. And we can't circle the wagons around him until it comes. How are we going to live like that?”

“We'll figure it out,” Paige tried again, glancing at their sister as Phoebe nodded quickly. “You're not alone. We love Wyatt too. We're not about to let any stinkin' slimy demon get its hands on him.”

“Easy to say,” Piper snorted with a slow shake of her head, her eyes unfocused again. “They've been trying since before he was born,” she reminded them. Like Gladys, the demon pretending to be human, having married their father just to be in the position to be around Piper when she gave birth. A prophesied birth that both sides knew of. And the demon that she was really with, trying to take the baby the moment he was born,to raise him up in evil, to rule the world. “And now, it's just gonna get worse.”

“Piper,” Phoebe protested softly. One could say that she was an optimist, but even the other sister's had their moment's of doubt. Their longing for a more normal life than this fighting demons every day to save the innocents of the world was understandable. But before she could say more, there was a sudden piercing cry from the baby monitor that startled Piper out of her slouch.

“Wyatt?” she questioned and with a mother's instinct had grabbed the baby monitor. The hiss that was not a normal part of the static of the electronic monitoring system sounded over the connection and it slid from her hands as she turned to sprint for the stairs. The howling from her son intensified, propelling his aunts from their seats as well. While Phoebe chased after her terrified sister, Paige took the expedient route of using her Whitelighter father's contribution to her genetic pool and orbed herself to the baby's room.

Paige wasn't sure what exactly she expected, but the dark figure standing before the crib, as Wyatt used the force field he had as his only means of defense, was actually one of them. What she didn't expect, was the demon to be more hyper aware of her than she was of it and the arm that struck her chest, sending her flying into the wall the very moment she coalesced in the room, took her by surprise and the last thing she knew was Wyatt's cry suddenly ceasing and the door banging open as her sister's made it to the baby.

Piper saw, heard and felt. several things altogether, immediately upon entering. The glow of her son's force field over the crib disappearing, Paige sinking to the floor, unconscious and a dark figure, laughing maniacailly. There was a moment, one of those moments where everything seemed to hang suspended, stretching out into an impossible eternity, before it all changed, drastically. There were no words, no sound, no thought but one.

“Oh no you don't!” she shrieked, flicking her hands forward before the demon could advance any closer to her son's crib. As she had come to expect since she had developed her new offensive power, the demon exploded, no longer any more and Piper had dismissed it from her mind for the moment, her maternal drive propelling her to her offspring. But when she reached into the stillness of the baby furniture, her mind reeled, panic gripping her.

Phoebe, hurrying to check on Paige, who was slumped unconscious on the floor, winced at the bloody smear across her sister's head and the blood trickling down the wall where Paige had slid. “Leo!” she called immediately, knowing that it would be necessary for their brother in law, also a Whitelighter, to heal her sister. She searched immediately for Paige's pulse and was reassured when she felt it under her fingertips. She turned to inform her elder sister, only to see Piper's hands descend into the crib in a flurry and blankets being thrown around.

“Oh God! Wyatt?” he sister shrieked and Phoebe's eyes went wide, stunned as she clambered to her feet to run to the crib. “Wyatt, baby?” her sister was crying now. “Where is he?” she screamed, demanding of her sister, her terror transmuting through the empathetic link she shared, especially with those she loved the most. One less now, she sensed, horror squeezing her heart. She couldn't sense Wyatt anywhere.

She screamed now too, to the heavens, desperation tinging her raw voice as she held her sister around the middle before Piper could collapse. “Leo! We need you!”


Chapter Four- Through The Rabbit Hole

Fiction- MiM01-Frustration Rises

Title: Memory In Motion

Chapter Title: Frustration Rises

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. I also do not own the rights to Supernatural. They belong to Eric Kripke and The CW.

Rating: PG-15

Genre: Crossover

Type: Humor, Angst

Pairing: DaddyDean/ WeeWillow

Summary: Through a magical mix-up, Willow ends up in the Impala, disoriented, terrified, facing the barrel of a gun and somehow... only six years old.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post series for Buffy and late season one of Supernatural.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This is a challenge response to pezgirl's The Little Demon Hunting Challenge at the Twisting the Hellmouth site. Challenge is as follows-

late season one- before Dean gets hurt and the car crash
Buffy: post-season 7

A fight with a troublesome demon end with Willow being de-aged and thrown into the Supernatural reality and into Dean's car.

Must have:

Willow being between 4 and 13
Willow not having her memories
Willow still being a witch

Memory In Motion

Chapter One

Frustration Rises

“Over here Mara!” Willow called out, trying to hold back the demon that had cottoned on to the groups plan to launch a pre-emptive strike on it's coven. The patriarch of the group, planning a sort of power upgrade by ingesting the bodies of several humans that it had deemed worthy, had somehow found out about Willow and the few young witches that she was mentoring, as well as her lover Kennedy, a relatively newly awakened Slayer, planning to put a stop to the mischief.

“Yeah, yeah,” the girl, the latest addition to the group grumbled as she ran, carrying an armful of candles. Willow winced as the demon got a swipe in, wondering where the hell Kennedy was. Normally she would have been right at Willow's side for the spell casting, not trusting the other's to protect her soon to be wife. But an argument a few nights ago, had been allowed to fester and grow, instead of being discussed and a solution found. Willow sort of had the idea that Kennedy wasn't going to change her position on her thoughts about Willow's magic use. But this situation, fighting alone, it was something that she was turning to more and more, not relying on Kennedy to have to save her.

After the fall of Sunnydale, Willow had embraced the fact that she could not refrain from magic altogether. Nor could she use it for every day things, like she had before. So she went the only route that she had deemed acceptable. She used the magic as much as she had to to save innocents and that alone was all. Helping for the greater good. She had a self imposed rigid structure to ensure that she wouldn't go down that bad road again. And that was what Kennedy had been upset about. In the crux of the problems they had argued about, it was almost central to every argument that Kennedy had made.

Kennedy had wanted to be Willow's everything. As Tara had once been for her. Oh, she hadn't put it that way, but that was what it boiled down to. Kennedy was jealous of the people in Willow's life. She could accept the original core Scoobies, because they were too well established to be routed out. And her parents, because after all, family was family and nothing could change who you were related to by blood. Even if in some cases, you might not know it. But the newer people, like the coven in Devon, and the practitioners she had found in South America, where they were just setting up a recruiting station now. Those were the people that Kennedy had targeted for her wrath.

Willow had tried to point out that Kennedy had people in her life that she relied on for things too. But Kennedy had maintained that the Slayer was built to work alone. To fight and conquer and win the day, to then come home at the end to her significant other. To be the alpha, the lead, the one that everyone else always listened to. And anytime Willow brought up Buffy, and the way her friend had set the Slaying rules, the Council and the world on it's ear, Kennedy got even more defensive. And Kennedy's reponding answer was always Faith.

Faith! Willow could snort mentally to herself still at the thought of the formerly dark Slayer. Even Faith had needed other people's help. And a helluva a lot of it. A Watcher, Buffy, Angel, Wes, Giles, friends, the penal system, all of that and more before she had finally grown enough to be an effective weapon for good. Granted, Faith hadn't started out with the best life before she had received her Slayer powers.

“Mara!” she barked, distracted just enough that the demon managed to slip past her defenses, catching her slightly unaware in a choke hold, lifting her from the ground, until her feet were dangling.

“Yeah, yeah!” the girl snapped back as she fell to her knees to start the power circle with the candles. Willow wanted to use her telepathic abilities to warn the girl that doing so on an undefined circle line was going to let the spell get out of hand. But the lack of oxygen to her brain that she was experiencing interfered with that function. She was better off to concentrate on a nonverbal spell that would get the demon off her.

“You know, Willow,” the girl complained, not even noticing that her supposed beloved mentor was being choked to death not even five feet from her, all because she was so eager to prove herself in her chosen field. “It's not like I don't know what I'm doing here. I managed not to get dead for months before you showed up!”

Willow refrained from rolling her eyes. That had been sheer dumb luck on the girl's part. And where were the others? Surely they couldn't have had that much problem with the rest of the clan. They weren't as powerful as the patriarch. He was the one that held the power and doled it out when necessary.

“Mara,” she gasped, trying to get the girl's attention.

“Don't rush me!” the girl whined as she called flame to light the candles. A bad sign when she should have had a lighter in her pocket. Or even matches. Instead she was taking shortcuts. And making excuses to herself that it was okay. “You always rush me. Every time you tell me, take my time, do it right. Well now that I am,” the girl turned to finally address Willow face to face, after having lit the candles and saw the predicament the older witch was on. “Oh! Oh crap! Right, uh... Filiolus o tener audio volo,” the girl squeaked out.

'Gods young, listen to me?' Willow automatically translated in her head and winced again. All this time trying to pound it into the girl's head that speaking Latin didn't immediately translate into a spell. Especially an unfocused spell like she was starting with. Too many variables and too much could go wrong. And which Gods were Mara trying to summon? Every religion had the old and the new. As lights began to swirl around the area, indicating that dang it, someone really was listening, Willow's consciousness began to fade. She was barely aware of Mara's voice rising as she completed her on the fly spell.

With a commanding clap of her hands, Mara finished, fully expecting the demon to just be gone. And truly, she no longer heard it's heavy, growling snarl as it had choked Willow. She was just pushing off her knees, to climb to her feet as Kennedy, leading the few warriors they had, as well as the other witches, ran into the area.

“Willow!” the eldest of the Slayers in South America, the only one to have fought in the final battle of Sunnydale, screamed out. She rounded on Mara, her fist clenched tightly around the sword that she preferred to carry into battle. “What did you do?” she shrieked at the young witch. The sword extended to where Willow... had been...

“Oh shit,” Deanna breathed out as her sort of friends and somewhat colleagues swarmed around and then past her, kneeling to look at the scorched ground.

“Some spell took her,” Rennie glanced up at Kennedy and then glared hard at Mara. “What spell did you use? I can't imagine Willow would go with a demon if she relocated it to somewhere safer.”

“I uh...” Mara began, her eyes darting between Kennedy and the senior witch, second in power to Willow in this continent's main coven.

“You tell her!” Kennedy hissed. “Tell her so we can bring Willow back! Now!”

The girl gulped and glanced down at the circle she had cast. She knew, Willow had warned her, but she hadn't listened. And now, she was really in for it!

MiM~MiM~MiM

Dean Winchester stormed from the hospital that he'd been casing, for more reasons than one. He'd had that bastard of a witch not feet from him, that shtriga, and there was nothing that he could do about it. He knew, his gut twisting with it, that there was a way to kill it. But the alternative to all of the methods that they were used to using, he and Sam, learned at their father John's behest, this was one of the worst. Having to use a kid as bait to draw the life sucking ancient witch into their trap, it wasn't an idea that filled him with puppies and rainbows and that happy crap.

But now, having failed once, when he was young, just a boy in most people's estimation, but not the world he lived in, Dean now had a second chance. And he had to find a way to convince his brother of that. Because he would never be able to live with himself, with the guilt, if this thing continued to feed on innocent children.

Saving anyone's life was preferable to letting them be hurt. But having been the victim of the supernatural as a child himself, kids would always have a special place in Dean's heart. Their innocence, their ability to trust, it had to be protected, because regular life was enough to beat that out of a person as they grew up. He climbed into the family's '67 Chevy Impala, pulling the door shut behind himself, mentally reviewing what they would need to have to safely attack this bastard.

The doctor! He should have seen it right away, but hadn't. Caught up in old horrid memories that he couldn't escape. A time when he failed, when he had almost lost Sammy and had forever lost his father's trust. That trust was a thing he'd been trying to earn back every day of his life. And now he had the chance to redeem himself in his father's eyes. In his own eyes. He leaned forward to insert the key into the ignition, but before he could start the car, a blinding flash of light caught him off guard. He simultaneously cringed away from the light, holding up his right hand to protect himself from the flash, while his left hand was automatically reaching for the Rutger under his car seat.

When the light died and he was swiveling around to see what the hell had happened, he heard a small voice pipe up.

“Oh no! Oh no. Not good. This is not good!”

He saw a small, redheaded girl in one of those jumper dresses and a turtleneck, her eyes wide, as her feet tried to find purchase, just barely achievable on the messy floor mat, on the passenger's side of Dean Winchester's beloved car.

No, this wasn't good at all. Dean belatedly realized that he held the pistol, when he saw the girl's eyes narrow in on the point of the barrel, her green eyes nearly crossing.

“An' it just got worse. Oh no!” The little redhead began to hyperventilate and Dean winced, wondering briefly if the shtriga had been able to read his mind or some shit like that when he'd been in the hospital. Was this some sort of distraction? There was one thing that he did know. The kid was right.

Things just had gotten worse.

Chapter Two- Murphy's Law or Something Like That

Fiction- MiM02- Murphy's Law or

Title: Memory In Motion

Chapter Title: Murphy's Law or Something Like That

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. I also do not own the rights to Supernatural. They belong to Eric Kripke and The CW.

Rating: PG-15

Genre: Crossover

Type: Humor, Angst

Pairing: DaddyDean/ WeeWillow

Summary: Through a magical mix-up, Willow ends up in the Impala, disoriented, terrified, facing the barrel of a gun and somehow... only six years old.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post series for Buffy and late season one of Supernatural.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This is a challenge response to pezgirl's The Little Demon Hunting Challenge at the Twisting the Hellmouth site. Please refer to chapter one for challenge details.

Memory In Motion

Chapter Two

Murphy's Law or Something Like That

Dean stared in horror at the thing that had appeared in his car. Talk about karma or... or Murphy's law or some shit like that. Thinking about needing a kid for bait, and bam! One appears. One that was freakin' the hell out.

But the thing was, while he might be called a pessimist and a conspiracy theorist by certain quarters of the normal world, Dean called it prudency. You couldn't always take things at face value. He had been around the block too many times not to distrust everything. Especially when something you needed just freakin' popped into your car, looking all big eyed cute, innocent and teary.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded tightly, curbing the instant what that he would normally want to know. Just in case this kid actually was a kid and something bigger was at play, he didn't want to scare her too badly. Though in his opinion, sometimes kids were better off knowing the truth than taking some of the chances that they did.

“W-w-w-w-Willow,” the girl gasped out finally, as she continued to hyperventilate. Dean was of two minds about what to do. On one hand, the sight of the kid scared mindless tugged at hundreds of heartstrings. But on the other, if this shtriga was as smart as it was purported to be, it could be using this thing exactly to get under Dean's defenses. Or a distraction. But then the twitching began and he was worried that someone might notice and if they did, assume the worst and he'd be nose deep in boiling hot water with no way to go but down.

He lowered the gun just a little, keeping it at the ready as his eyes flicked down to the seat between them. With the gun still in his left hand, he wasn't as comfortable using his weaker hand, but he would if he had to, he used his right to reach for an old take out bag. He shook whatever contents were left in the bag onto the floor and tossed it to the girl. She stared down at the bag on her lap and then brought terrified eyes up to him again.

“Breath into it,” Dean mimicked lifting his hand to his face. The girl slowly picked up the bag and seeming to understand, brought the opening of the bag to her face. She inhaled once and threw it back down.

“Ewww! It smells like the back of a refrigerator after the power goes out,” she complained. Dean curbed the responsive smirk. He had no doubt that it probably did. The girl glared at the bag for a moment before remembering the bigger threat and turned back to Dean.

“Maybe it does, but it worked, didn't it?” he pointed out and the girl's eyes widened momentarily before she glanced down at herself.

“Uh, yeah,” she nodded slowly. “But it didn't make the gun go away.”

“No, it didn't,” Dean agreed. “Because that's not going to happen until I figure out what the hell happened here.”

“Oh! You said the H word.”

“Yeah kid, I did,” he complained gruffly. “Don't tell me you've never heard it before.”

“Uh huh,” she nodded brightly. “My daddy says it when he tries to build things. And then my mother explains why his negative example is detrimental to my mental well being.”

Dean's jaw almost dropped to gape. And people thought his upbringing was skewed. “Okay,” he drawled, unsure. There were very few ways that he could figure out if this really was a kid, because he sure as hell wasn't going anywhere with a demon in the car.

“My mom's a psyche actress,” Willow offered and Dean suppressed the urge to chuckle.

“Psychiatric?” he corrected her and she nodded quickly. “Sorry kiddo.”

“Oh no,” she shook her head then. “It's very interesting.”

“Uh huh,” he breathed out through his nose, completely unconvinced. He shook his head, his lips pursed as he regarded the bright redhead. “Look, like I said, I don't trust what's happening here. So do me a favor and hold still, will ya?”

“You're not going to touch me in my doll places, are you?” the girl asked, a certain innocence in the question kept Dean from snarling out a disgusted explicative.

“No!” he protested loudly. “I'm not some sick bastard. Okay?” She nodded slowly and once she had placed her hands in her lap to wait, Dean transferred his weapon to his right hand and watched her face. “Cristos.”

There was no response and when he grunted the girl relaxed slightly.

“What was that supposed to do?” she wondered. “Was it a magic word?”

“Sort of,” Dean allowed, turning an eye to watch carefully, a few people passing in front of the car in the parking lot.

“Well,” the girl began, “well maybe it didn't work because I'm Jewish. Maybe...”

Dean chuckled then. “So what do you recommend I use? Yahweh?”

The girl braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut and waited. But after a moment had passed, she let one eye open and focused on Dean. “Did it work?”

“Yeah kid, worked perfect,” Dean nodded. He had one more acceptable test that he could perform, and one less so. “Can you do me a favor?” Willow looked eager when he asked and Dean was hard pressed to remember that this, in his reality, could be some evil son of a bitch riding around in a kid. A kid! She looked so damned much like Sammy when he was young that he had to swallow heavily. “Reach in that glove box and pass me the flask,” he directed as he tried to swallow down the bitter bile that was curling up his throat.

The girl turned to do so, but when she pulled it back out and turned it over in her hands, she turned to ask him, “are you old? Because my friend says you have to be old to drink. But that's only booze. Like his dad. His dad likes to drink booze a lot. Is this booze? My friend's Daddy has a booze bottle like this that he keeps in his shirt pocket.”

“Nope, just water,” he told her, cutting across her little ramble. Bracing the gun enough that he could also hold the flask of holy water, he took a swig and then held it out to her. “Have some.”

“O-okay,” she stammered, carefully accepting the flask. “I'm...”

“It's part of the test,” he warned her. “I only drank some so that you'd know I wasn't trying to poison you.”

“You'd poison me!” she shrieked and Dean winced and then glanced around to see if anyone else had heard.

“No!” he protested. “I just wanted... just take a drink. Please!” He cringed a little as Willow's eyes were focused on the gun that had been waved around a little and suddenly she was gulping down the rest of the contents. She was gasping again and Dean feared another hyperventilation episode, but when she was done she flushed slightly.

“I drank it all, sorry,” she half whined, cradling the flask worriedly. Dean watched her again for signs of possession, but there was nothing.

“That's okay kid,” he shook his head and returning the safety on the gun, leaned over to tuck it back under the seat. “I can always get more. You feel okay?”

“Ummm,” she hesitated and Dean's sharp eyes were quickly back on her. The flush hadn't disappeared. “I have to... go.”

“Go where?”

“The... the bathroom,” she squirmed under his raised eyebrow gaze and then tucked her hands under her thighs. “But I can wait. It's okay.” She squirmed a little more and Dean tiredly shook his head. He was wasting time. Time that could be better spent figuring out how to take that shtriga out. Quickly making his decision, he turned back to the kid.

“Look, there's something going on that I need to take care of,” he explained. “Where do you live Willow? I'll drop you off.”

“816 Sycamore Street,” she responded promptly. Dean nodded and turned forward to start up the ignition.

“Sycamore, okay,” he muttered to himself, wondering if he could find a map or would have to call his brother, while the girl straightened herself out as well.

“Sunnydale, California, the United States of America,” she rambled on, not realizing that her words had caught Dean's attention and not in a good way. “continent of North America, Western Hemisphere, of the planet earth. And I should be in the back seat.”

“What?” Dean demanded, focusing still on the initial part of her address.

“I should be in the back seat,” Willow repeated. She grew thoughtful looking and pronounced with care, “it's stah-tis-tickly safer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean shook his head. “What city did you say you're from?”

“Oh,” Willow's mouth rounded into a small smile. “Sunnydale.”

“Crap!”

“You said the C word!”

“Which was better than the S word,” he snarked back, shaking his head.

“Or the F word,” Willow agreed. Dean couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. Mini Samantha in the co-pilot's seat.

“Tell me Willow,” he grinned, even though his mind was whirling with the implications of what she had revealed. “You like school?”

She nodded happily. “Miss Tattersall is nice. And I have a best friend. I get to color and two times a week, I go with Mrs. Gettle to do advanced reading. And I'm learning third grade math. Even though I'm only in first grade.”

“Wow,” he nodded, trying to sound suitably impressed, when all he was wondering was why the hell this shit didn't happen to his brother. Why didn't she know her address here? And if it wasn't a simple case of her family having just moved here, how in the hell she got from California to Wisconsin. Well, all he could do was get her some place safe and figure out where to go from there. Being a Winchester meant having a game plan, even if it fell to pieces the moment your brain thought of it.

Normal course would be to drop her at the cop shop, but with his track record, that'd net him even more problems. Maybe they could just get to the motel and call her parents to come get her. She was maybe, well, probably here visiting someone and didn't have the address handy.

“Willow?” he questioned as he let the engine idle, “what's your parent's number?” She instantly reeled off a phone number, but Dean recognized the California area code and shook his head. “No, I mean their cell phone.” She looked doubtful.

“What's a cell phone?” she asked politely. Dean frowned and reached into his pocket to show her his. She looked interested enough as she reached forward, hesitant until he nodded to her that it was all right to turn it over in his hand. Then she sat back and shook her head. “They don't have a cell phone.”

“Great,” Dean sighed. Techni-phobes, probably, of some sort or another. Really, who didn't have a cell phone in this day and age?

“So who are you visiting?” he tried again. The little girl shook her head, confused again.

“I'm not allowed to visit anyone,” she told him. “Miss Gold picks me up from school and we go straight home. I have a nutrition an' then do my homework. And then I read until it's time for dinner. Then I have a bath an' go to bed,” she finished happily. “But that's on school days. I can play on the weekends.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Try again, and calmly, he reminded himself. “Did your parents bring you with them to visit someone, or did you just move here?”

“No,” Willow answered quietly, seeming concerned as she looked out the windshield of the car, very concerned that she wasn't telling him what he wanted to hear.

“So what were you doing before you were here... in the car?” he wondered. The girl looked down in her lap and her shoulders hunched over. “Willow?”

“I... I don't remember,” she murmured so quietly that Dean barely heard her. He leaned a little closer and tried to smile encouragingly when all he felt like doing was thunking his head against his seat, repeatedly.

“Well, were you in school, or at home?”

“I don't remember,” she repeated and then shook her head. “I don't remember!” she wailed this time and Dean cringed at the sudden increase in noise volume from her.

“Shh, shh,” he tried to quiet, soothing wasn't even a word for him at the moment. “It's okay kid. No problem, just don't...” he glanced out the windshield to see that a few people were staring at him in disapproval. “Willow, come on kid, quit!” he hissed. “You're gonna get me in trouble right now. Trouble that frankly, I can't afford, the kind that'll lock me up for twenty years.”

The girl stopped her wailing, though the tears continued to stream copiously down her cheeks. “What kind of trouble?” she asked breathlessly, though it seemed to be more from her crying jag than any awe.

“The... doll touching thing,” he tried to explain without truly explaining. “Even though I haven't. But... I don't know what to do here, kid. I take you to the cops to get you help and I get burned.”

“Do they have a lost and found?” she asked with a sniffle. Dean sadly shook his head, though her vacillation between hopefulness and curiosity, mingled with the other was kind of cute. He ruffled her hair quickly and then decided.

“Look, we can go see my brother,” he offered. “He might have some idea how the he- heck this happened. And he's better with computers. But, there's gonna have to be some ground rules.”

“Yes sir,” she nodded, calming even more now.

“First of all, you're right,” he decided. “You should be in the back seat.” The moment the last word left his lips, Willow was scrambling to climb over the seats. Dean rolled his eyes and just narrowly avoided being kicked in the head by her Mary Jane's. “All right,” he twisted around to eye her as he ran over what could be acceptable rules for a little girl in his car. “Buckle up and listen good.” She followed his immediate advice as Dean turned back and reached once more for his cell phone. “Rule number one,” he improvised as he pulled up the texting feature of his phone. “Driver is always right. About directions, music, everything, no matter what anyone else says.”

He saw, from the corner of his eye in the rearview mirror, Willow nodding, her serious little face taking in everything he said as she now sat primly, her hands on her lap.

“Second, just for now, we're gonna play a game of pretend,” he told her as his thumb punched the appropriate buttons on the phone.

MiM~MiM~MiM

Sam glanced at the phone nestled next to his laptop. It had chirped, denoting an incoming message. Finishing typing another idea into the on line search engine, he pulled his hands back and reached for the phone. There was a message from Dean and since Sam had just talked to him recently, he sighed, figuring it for a reminder to pick up some food. Even though it was Dean that had the car. What he read instead, made him sigh even more.

Dude, things just got worse. Brace yourself and just go with it.

Now what in the hell could that mean? With the brother that Sam had? One never knew

Chapter Three- FUBAR'd