Categories > TV > Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Willow the Gargoyle

by Jonakhensu 0 reviews

Willow decided to dress as a confident business woman for Halloween. Unfortunately, her costume was too similar to Dominique Destine. Now she must deal with the consequences. A BtVS/Gargoyles cross.

Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Crossover - Characters: Willow - Published: 2008-02-24 - Updated: 2008-02-25 - 5114 words

Willow the Gargoyle
By Jonakhensu
Disclaimer (You're not getting one every chapter, so pay attention) I own neither Gargoyles nor Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I am making no money off of this. Frankly, not even the plot is really mine. While I had the idea for a Gargoyle!Willow fic at least several hours before reading it, Willow Destine by Wispr was a major inspiration in this fic. I have gotten Wispr's permission to use his description and name for Willow. The descriptions greatly influenced mine, but are not exactly the same. Thanks go to deitarion/SSokolow for acting as my beta reader along with those I hashed ideas out with.

“Come on, Willow,” Buffy urged, holding up an outfit from the rack. She had already found her costume, a Victorian gown, and was now helping her best female friend find her own costume. “This is Halloween! Halloween is the night that not you is you, but not you, you know?”

“B-but I can't wear something like that!” the redhead protested.

“Come on,” the blonde Slayer pushed. “You're always so shy. This is your chance to be sexy.”

“I-I can't. Xander stole all of my sheets!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Buffy asked.

“I can't fall back on being a ghost without a sheet! It's just not done. You can't have a sheetless ghost! And, and if I try to wear something like that, I'll panic and need to get a different costume and.”

The Willow-babble was brought to the close when a man, with a noticeable British accent inquired, “Can I help you?” The two girls turned in surprise, having not noticed the man earlier.

“I'm trying to help my Willow-shaped friend find a costume,” Buffy explained. “But she doesn't like my ideas.”

“I see,” the man commented. “I couldn't help but over hear your discussion. If sexy is not what you want, you could always go for confidence instead.” After a pause, the man added, “Oh, I'm sorry; I forgot to introduce myself. I am Ethan Rayne, the owner of this fine establishment. It is my goal to give my customers the best costumes I can.”

“That's a great idea!” Willow exclaimed. “Lead on to the confidence section!” she declared, with a finger raised.

Smiling, Ethan led the two girls towards a particular section of the store. He had already learned that both girls were well acquainted with one Rupert Giles, and he was going to make sure their Halloween was extra special this year. Stopping in front of some business attire, the Chaos mage chose a red suit and held it up. “Yes, I do believe this matches your hair rather nicely, don't you agree?”

“It does look nice, Willow admitted. “I think I'll take it.” Looking around, she continued, “Now I just need some accessories.” She quickly found a briefcase and some realistic looking paperwork. Had anyone been paying attention, the words 'Nightstone Unlimited' would have been visible on each of the pages. An odd coincidence that not even Ethan Rayne himself had manufactured.

Her selection made, Willow handed her new costume to the friendly Mr. Rayne to be rung up. He retreated to the back room for a few moments before returning the costume to its new owner. As the two girls left his store, he smiled evilly. True, he had already spelled the gown, so the effects from it would fade quickly, but the amount of magic he had poured into that toy gun he sold earlier and into each and every part of the redhead's costume would insure that some remnants of the night would remain with the pair forever.

As the wave of magic finished washing over her, Dominique Destine looked around in confusion. “Why am I human again?” she asked her self, right as the last rays of the sun slipped past the Californian horizon. With a scream of untold agony, the woman hunched over, coming as close to a fetal position as possible while remaining on one's feet. He screams escalated as bones snapped, changed shape, and knitted back together. The suit she had been wearing tore to shreds as wings and a tail sprouted from her back. A mere minute after the pain had started, it stopped, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache. “That's not right,” the blue gargoyle groaned between her gasps for breath. “It's never been that painful before.” Finally looking at her surroundings, Demona realized something horribly important. She was no longer in Manhattan, let alone her own house. Instead she was in a suburb, surrounded by short creatures the likes of which she had never seen before.

As a possible explanation occurred to her, she stumbled to a nearby car and tore off a side view mirror. She looked into the mirror, then the mirror fell from her suddenly lifeless fingers. The face that had looked back at her from the mirror was not her own. It was similar, to be sure. The blue skin tone was correct, and someone who knew her well enough could recognize her, but that face was not her own; if nothing else, it was several years younger than hers should have appeared. This revelation, added to her still aching body, led her to a terrifying conclusion. This was not her body, and this body was not immortal. The only reason she was still conscious after her transformation was her high pain threshold. A thousand years of suffering did wonders to a person's ability to withstand pain, apparently. However, this was not the time for idle contemplation. “If this body is mortal,” Demona thought aloud, “will I die if it dies, leaving but a husk behind where I should be?” As a gun went off in the distance, she decided. “It's too risky to find out the hard way. I need to find some place secure to wait this out and cast a few protection spells.”

Her plan decided, Demona made her way to a house that had no lights on and no car in the driveway, following a path she was not consciously aware of. Something in the back of her ming recognized the house, causing her to open the briefcase she was still carrying despite herself. Inside the case she found a key, a normal house key. Looking from the key to the door, Demona shrugged before deciding to try to unlock the door. The key worked, proving to the gargoyle that her current body remembered how to get back to its own house. After shutting and relocking the door, Demona began searching the house, looking for magic supplies and any clue as to her body's identity. The house was unusually barren, without any of the pictures or knickknacks the average home would have on display. It had an almost un-lived in feel, until she made her way to one of the bedrooms.

Unlike every other room in the house, this room was obviously lived in, even if there were no sheets on the bed. “Odd,” Demona commented to herself before dismissing the thought as unimportant. One of the pictures on the nightstand showed a girl with red hair and a face similar to her current one, a brown haired boy, and a blond girl, sharing a hug. Another held only the picture of a boy. As Demona held the picture, a tear came to her eye, and she whispered, “Jessie,” while not understanding where the emotion had come from, let alone the name. A quick search turned up her body's purse, including her identification. “So, this body is Willow Rosenberg, and we are presumably in a Sunnydale, California,” the gargoyle noted, looking at the Sunnydale High School ID card.

Another few minutes of searching turned up a collection of herbs that could only have one purpose. “Perfect. These are just what I need to cast that protection spell, then I might as well wait out whatever caused this. I can't risk getting killed in this body.” Her mind made up, Demona prepared the spell, casting the strongest defensive spell she could without access to the Grimorum Arcanorum or another advanced spell book. Wearied by the unexpectedly large drain on her, or rather this body's, magic reserves, Demona settled onto the bed to catch her breath. She did not expect to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. When the wave of magic released as the Janus bust was destroyed reached the Rosenberg residence, Willow, still exhausted, did not even twitch as she regained control of her body.

Demona snapped to attention as she found herself back in her body. Without considering why she was concerned with a mere human's health, the gargoyle made her way to her laboratory. Utilizing the degrading link formed by the magic that caused her to posses a girl across the country, Demona created a permanent scrying spell, anchored to the mirror in a handy compact. One look into the mirror almost made her drop the compact in shock. Lying on the bed was a gargoyle, not the human she had expected to see. Even more startling was that the gargoyle seemed to be shifting gradually, almost imperceptibly unless watched closely.

“This is interesting,” Demona mused. Shifting the focus of the spell off of Willow momentarily, she looked outside of the room, at the rest of the town. Gone were the little creatures that had chased those who had remained human. Gone were the bewildered looks in those dressed for far earlier eras. Everything appeared to be back to normal, except for Willow. “I think I'll watch her for a while, and see if she'll turn to stone by day. Depending on what happens next, I may just have a new pet project.”

Four hours after she returned to a human form, Dominique was watching the still sleeping gargoyle, waiting for the sun to rise. She was almost giddy with anticipation, though she would never admit that to anyone, not even her daughter, Angela. Suddenly it began. Willow awoke with a jerk as the first rays of sun entered the open, east exposure window. Less than a second later, her back arched as she screamed in agony. A minute later, a human Willow lay in a fetal position, unconscious.

The protection spell surrounding the girl flared with a blinding intensity before fading into the girl, leaving her glowing for a few seconds before dissipating entirely. Dominique blinked back her shock and scratched her head. “Huh, that was unexpected,” she commented. After a few moments, Willow woke again, sobbing in pain. A few minutes later, she stopped crying and got up, seemingly free of pain. Dominique could only cock an eyebrow and remark, “That spell was not supposed to do that. Especially not settle into the girl like that. It should be interesting to see if it has any long term effects, at least.” As Willow headed into the bathroom to prepare for her day, starting with throwing up everything she'd eaten in the last week, followed by a long shower, Dominique closed the compact, allowing the girl some privacy.

Back in Sunnyhell, Willow was trying to deal with the onslaught of memories her possessor had left behind. The simple joy of gliding filled her, only to be replaced by the thousand years of pain, and betrayal Demona had experienced One of the most painful memories was also one of the most recent. Her daughter's abandonment hurt Demona far more than she could ever show. Luckily, the memories were quickly fading, leaving only impressions that were occasionally annoying, but not a hindrance. By the time Willow had finished her shower, most of her thoughts were sorted. Now she just needed to figure out what to tell the others

“Damn it! I can't tell them that Dominique Destine is the gargoyle Demona,” she grumped. “She'd kill all of us if I did that.” Of this she was certain. The memories she had confirmed it. “It's a good thing today's Saturday. It'll give me a couple days to figure things out. Besides, Demona's probably watching me right now. Maybe I should email her and ask?” With something resembling a plan, Willow made her way to her computer and booted it up. She logged onto her email account and sat there for a few minutes before announcing, “You know, this would be much easier if I remembered what your email address is.” A few minutes later, an email appeared.

Subject: Boo

Yes, I am watching you. Do not tell anyone about last night or about me, unless I have given you permission first. If you do, I will be forced to kill them, and we wouldn't want that, now would we? If I believe they can be trusted, I will allow you to tell your friends the truth, eventually.

You should know that the spell from last night affected you differently than the others in town. When I looked in on you last night, you were still a gargoyle, so it is possible that you will become one again tonight. Until I know more about what happened, I cannot say anything more with any certainty.

Always watching,

“Alright, so she is watching me. I guess I can deal with that.” Willow's continued pondering was interrupted when the doorbell rang. Heading downstairs, Willow found Xander waiting at the door.

“Hey, Wills, are you alright?” he asked, his concern shining in his eyes. “I didn't see you at all last night.”

“Um, I just sort of found my way back here and stayed inside,” Willow explained. “So what did happen last night?”

“Well, it seems that this Ethan guy used Chaos magic to turn everyone into their costumes,” Xander started. “I became a real soldier while Buffy became a helpless noblewomen. She was even scared of cars! Anyways, Giles eventually figured it out just in time to save Buffy from Spike.”

“Isn't Halloween supposed to be a quiet night?” Willow asked.

“Sure, it's supposed to be,” Xander scoffed. “But this is Sunnyhell; nothing ever goes right here. If Giles had taken any longer, we'd be a Slayer short right now!”

“Good thing Giles made it, then,” Willow stated. Changing the subject, she asked, “So what are the plans for today?”

“Not much, really,” Xander admitted. “Buffy's still getting over almost dieing, again, and I'm dealing with having been possessed, again.”

“Hey, bright side,” Willow started cheerfully, “you didn't eat anything you shouldn't have, right?”

Xander cracked a smile, agreeing, “Yeah, there is that. Can I come in? I thought we could watch the Charlie Brown Halloween special or something.”

“Uh, right,” Willow replied, stepping to the side to allow Xander's entry, but not inviting him in. “That sounds good.”

“What? No invite?” Xander asked as he stepped over the threshold. “Your door is completely in the sun for pretty much the entire day.”

“It's still a good habit to keep!” Willow insisted with mock indignation. “I wouldn't want to get eaten just because I forgot to not invite someone in.”

“I'm just joking, Wills,” Xander explained with equally faked placation. “Come on, let's go watch Charlie Brown.” With that, the two teens began their indulgence of cartoons and Twinkies.

Finally, as it was approaching dusk, Willow turned off the television. After a good five hours of watching Charlie Brown and Scooby-Doo, it was time for Xander to be heading home. It would not be wise to be out once the sun had set, after all, especially as the boy had forgotten to bring a stake with him that day. After goodbyes were exchanged and Xander had left, Willow headed back upstairs to write back to Demona, having been interrupted earlier. She was surprised to find another email from the gargoyle already waiting for her.

Subject: URGENT

If you have finally finished your cartoons, and it is still before dusk, get something to bite down on. You will needed it if you want to do not want to be heard or bite through your lip. I suggest finding something now before it gets any later.

Willow, remembering the pain from that morning, hurried to get a towel out of the bathroom. Folding it into a thick wad, she left it ready to bite at a moments notice. Set for now, she continued reading.

Your friend, Xander, told you that the spell last night was cast by a Chaos mage. This is going to make things far more complicated. One of the primary rules of magic is that you do NOT mix certain types of spells. Chaos magic should never be mixed with anything, even other Chaos magic. Actually, make that especially not Chaos magic.

That said, there is one important detail I need to point out about myself. I already have two spells of Fey origin effecting me. At least one of these spells interacted directly with the Chaos magic, which is why you became a gargoyle last night. The Puck 'gifted' me with my twin forms, so I would never turn to stone. As we both found out last night, this spell carried over. The second Fey spell was cast by the Weird Sisters, making me immortal until Macbeth or I kill the other.

I was not sure, nor am I sure, of how that spell reacted to my residence in your body, so I took what precautions I could. With the streets overrun with demons, and unsure of my current body, I made my way to your house and set up a protection spell. This was all very fine, until the transformation spell ended, and you stayed a gargoyle. This morning, you reverted back to your current form. I'm not sure what, exactly, happened, but the protection spell flared and sank into you. With all the other spells involved, I have no idea what the outcome of this will be. If you are particularly lucky, it may have created a permanent protective field around you, or something to that effect.

Wishing you the best of luck; I'll be watching,

Looking outside, Willow noticed that the sun was about to set. Acting quickly, she undressed, leaving just her underwear, and jammed the folded towel into her mouth just in time to stifle her initial scream as her body began to change, the pain being nearly too much to bear. Despite her attempts to remain standing throughout, one leg folded, dropping her into a kneeling posture. Her pinkies were absorbed into her ring fingers as her feet lengthened and changed, becoming better suited for the powerful leaps needed to begin gliding. Her back arched as an impressive set of wings, even by gargoyle standard, sprouted from her shoulders. As the wings stretched, the membrane covering the leading edge pulled back, revealing serrated blades that could more than likely cut into concrete. A tail grew from Willow's spine, ending in two spines that folded out and back, connected to the tail proper via modified wing membrane and supporting spines, producing yet another razor sharp blade. Giving off the primal bellow of a newly awakened gargoyle, Willow reared back, her eyes shining a brilliant red.

“That didn't hurt nearly as much as it did earlier,” Willow mused. “Must have been that protection spell or something.” Rooting around in her closet, the young gargoyle came across an old shirt that she had forgotten about years ago because it was far too large for her. A few tears and safety pins later, Willow had a makeshift dress. It was nothing pretty, or anything she would want to go out in, but it was better than just a bra and panties. “Might as well go see what I look like,” she decided and made her way to the bathroom, the closest source of a mirror large enough to be of any use.

As she walked out of her room, her tail, which she had not gotten proper control over yet, scraped against the door, including the fan blade. When Willow felt the resistance of the flared blade on the door, she pulled harder without thinking about it. Thus, she inadvertently left a foot long gash in her wall, the drywall providing no more than that original resistance before giving way to the keen blade.

Willow took one look into the mirror before her jaw dropped from what she saw. Her jaw dropped even further as it unhinged, much like a snake's. While her skin was a rather fetching shade of blue, just like Demona's, she looked far more sinister than the older gargoyle ever had. For one, her eye ridges terminated in small, bony horns, instead of being covered in flesh like Demona's or Angela's were. Her mouth, still open past what should be physically possible, contained a set of chompers that would make even the most modest vamp green with fang envy. However, despite these differences, there were enough similar facial features similar to Demona's, not to mention the identical skin tone, to easily pass as Demona's daughter.

When the young gargoyle noticed her new smile, she involuntarily flinched back while instinctively flaring her wings. The bathroom lights glinted off the newly revealed blades once the covering flesh pulled back. The flash caught the girl' eye, finally bringing her attention to her new wings. They were larger, and far more powerful looking than Demona's memories told her were the norm. They even had an extra joint to allow them to fold properly, being much to large to fold the normal way. Carefully examining one of her wing blades, while staying safely away from the edge, Willow noticed that they were not shiny bone, like she had originally thought. They were, instead, a substance that looked distinctly metallic, though she could not identify it by sight alone. Picking up a paper cup from the sink, she gently pushed it against the revealed blade. Before she could even register any resistance, the bottom of the cup hit the floor, having been easily sliced off. Looking at the remains of the cup, Willow gulped and wisely decided to use something that was in no way valuable to test exactly how sharp her wing blades were.

Taking off her makeshift tunic, Willow proceeded to examine the rest of her body, looking for anything not normally a part of gargoyle physiology. After a short time of gentle probing, she discovered something decidedly odd. “Why do I have sub dermal plates?” she wondered aloud, having found what seemed to be cartilaginous plates protecting her vitals and most of her torso. Coming to the only possible conclusion, she groaned, “Great, I'm a Hellmouth gargoyle!” Taking another look at her assorted natural weapons and armor, she added, “At least it should make fighting vamps and demons easier. Especially if those blades are as sharp as I think they are.”

Dominique could only gape dumbly at this new revelation. Finally, she found her voice, “Sunnydale is a Hellmouth?! Well, I suppose that does explain a few things.” The currently human gargoyle continued her line of thinking. The Slayer was the only one who could consistently and effectively protect a place like Sunnydale and keep the Hellmouth closed. If the Hellmouth were to ever open, it would be just as bad for gargoyles as it would be for humans. The Slayer was considered to be human. If Demona had ever succeeded in destroying the human race, she would have been simultaneously dooming her own race. As such, Dominique decided that, from then on, there would be no more attempts at eliminating humans. She would just have to settle for killing off specific humans; like Elisa Maza.

Turning her thoughts away from tearing the detective to shreds, Demona refocused her attention on Willow. She could easily see the resemblance between the two of them, even if Willow did look like she could take on Goliath and win, despite her far smaller size. There was even a resemblance between this youngling and her daughter, Angela, even if it were not so pronounced. The two could easily pass as sisters, which they were, in a way, she supposed. “Hmm, that bares looking into,” she mused. “I'll have to send someone to collect hair samples on Monday. It will be interesting to see how that mage's spell affected her genetics, in both forms.” That decided, Demona closed the compact for the moment as she prepped an order to have a team search the house on Monday while the child was at school.

Her plans set and the proper actions taken, the eldest living (and awake for that entire time) gargoyle reopened the compact and blinked in shock at what she saw. Willow had dressed in her shirt tunic again and was gathering a few stakes from her room. This could only mean one thing, someone was planning on hunting tonight. “Damn it!” Demona growled. “She's not ready to fight! She hasn't even learned to glide yet! And what if she's seen?” As Demona watched, Willow left the house through the front door, locking it behind her, and took to the air, her powerful wings actually managing to provide enough lift for her to gain a good thirty feet before she began to glide. “She can fly,” the watcher murmured in shock. “A gargoyle that can fly under her own power. She really is amazing.”

Back in Sunnydale, Willow was enjoying herself immensely. The feeling of the wind beneath her wings was unlike anything she had ever experienced. While she had managed to fly up to one hundred feet, it was very tiring; gliding was significantly easier. Thinking about the differences between normal gargoyles and herself, Willow noted, “Great, I'm the vampire bat of gargoyles. It figures, though I just hope I won't develop a taste for blood.”

Putting any negative thoughts behind her, Willow concentrated on enjoying her glide, while learning the proper way to maneuver. Having access to a millennium of experience was a definite boon, allowing the young gargoyle to quickly adapt her basic technique to take into account her wing blades and tail, both of which affected her maneuvering. While her distance gliding was effortless, what with wings almost half as large again as the average gargoyle, she still needed to work on her turns and mid air dodges, both of which were difficult to practice without a partner.

As she soared over the Bronze, Willow noticed a figure leading someone into a secluded back alley. Anywhere else, this would be a cause for mild to moderate concern. On top of the Hellmouth at night, however, it was a time for immediate action. The pair could be perfectly normal lovers or some such, but it was far more likely to be a hunting vampire and its prey. Just to be safe, Willow swept down and landed on a nearby roof, stumbling slightly as she landed, not used to doing such yet. There would be more time for practice later, Willow decided. The vampire needed to be taken care of now. Slowly, and as quietly as she could, she crawled down the side of the building, trying to get into the best position to attack from.

“What are we doing back here, Joe?” the following figure asked. Willow almost fell of the wall when she realized that it was Larry, the boy who always beat on her best friend. With an effort, she withheld the growl settled in her throat.

“Come on,” the first figure replied, “this is a much better place to make out, don't you think?” A quick sniff, not even intentionally taken confirmed Willow's suspicions. One of the people in the ally was a vampire. The only strange thing was that both of them were male. Willow's eyes widened in shock as Larry agreed and pulled the man into a kiss. After a few minutes of kissing, which Willow found surprisingly hot, the unknown man broke away and began trailing kisses down towards Larry's neck. Larry tilted his head back, allowing the man better access and moaned lightly. The man suddenly reared back, his eyes wide and yellow, his forehead creased into his vampiric game face, and he lunged for the neck before him.

As soon as Willow saw the vampire ready to strike, she acted. Quickly springing from the wall, she tackled Larry head on, knocking him away from the blood sucker. With her wings slightly outstretched as they were, one of the wings hit the vampire just as Willow beat her wings to cushion her landing. In her adrenaline fueled state, her wing blades were bare, allowing them to, with the force of that single wing beat, slice clean through the vampire, bisecting him at the waist. Willow spun in place with a stake at the ready, prepared to fend off the vampire, only to find two small piles of dust. With the threat clearly gone in a poof of dust and ash, Willow turned to Larry and asked, “Are you okay?”

Larry blinked at the monster straddling him and asked, “What just happened? Who are you? WHAT are you?”

Willow stood and sighed. “How about you forget I exist, and I'll forget that you're gay, deal?” she suggested. Larry nodded his head vigorously before scrambling off into the night. “And, with any luck, this will be another case of Sunnydale denial,” she muttered to herself before climbing the building to continue her gliding from the roof. The rest of her night was uneventful and she made it home just in time for her morning torture session, otherwise known as returning to a human form. With an exhausted sigh, Willow fell onto her bed and was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Dominique Destine watched for a moment as Willow slept. Despite her hatred for the majority of the human race, Dominique could not expel the feeling of pride she felt when Willow saved that boy. There was only one thing she truly disapproved of in regards to the youngling's activities that night. “Willow needs to learn the intricacies of flight,” she thought to herself. “And she'll definitely need to learn how to fight properly. Her instincts seem good, but she doesn't actually know how to use her weapons most effectively. Maybe I'll have to go there and teach her. Yes, I think that should do nicely.” With her plans for the near future set, Destine headed to bed. She wanted to see what Willow would do next, and watching the girl sleep was not going to be entertaining at all.
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