THE COVEN
The rise of the greatest Seeyo in History prior to the Natural
re-situation
of Humanity in the Cosmic.
By Binky (binky29AToptonline.net)
Description: Uber. Science Fiction. Mid-21st century.
Spoilers: None. This is 100 percent AU/uber
Pairings: Willow/Other, Willow/Tara.
Rating: Mature
Summary: A woman from the mysterious organization The Coven appears in
Sunnydale to help eight-year-old Willow Rosenberg unlock her latent powers
Warnings: Violence, strong language, moderate to graphic sexual
language/situations, character death
Feedback: Yes, please, including criticism (the gentle kind)
Distribution: Please email before copying/archiving.
Notes: *text* denotes italics
Tara and Willow and other characters from the television show *Buffy the
Vampire Slayer* were created by Joss Whedon.
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Prologue: Witch Maclay
Part 1
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Power is only safe with those who don't want it. I used to want it and it
made me a monster.
I wouldn't want that for our children. I'd want them to be free. If one of
ours were to have that ambition, then I know that we had failed. Most
likely
because you weren't there to teach them, which would mean that I had
failed.
I'd rather have the simple things. To be comfortable, to feel safe,
sharing
a home with you. To not be hungry, except for the hungry ache deep within
that never really goes away, even if it's temporarily sated, just for you.
The warmth of your body around mine. I want to be entertained. I am, by
your
look, in wonder at the beauty or the cruelty of nature or humanity, the
rapture in your eyes as they shut when you tumble over the edge I brought
you to. Your stories, the source of your words, how they were prompted. To
be your wanting that makes you wet. At times, I feel like I want the
roundness of your belly and the soft but strong heartbeat underneath its
delicate surface. but not now. Now, only you, my darling.
The most precious possession one can own is the freely given love of a
good
woman.
-------------------------
Innumerable years ago.
"She's doing it in her head." A look of panic quickly erased the strained
rapture on Ethan's face as the second-hand images currently being
generated
in the mind of one eight-year-old Willow Rosenberg flooded his
half-conscious, half spell-entranced mind. The mystically-forged link
between them was tenuous, weakened by distance and the time lag and her
magically untempered nature. Still, the girl's responses to the test
questions were so rapid and multi-layered, Ethan could barely make any
sense
of all the strands of logic as they were woven in her apparently very busy
brain. The coordination was anathema to him, as a worshipper of Chaos.
Beside him, under black robes that did little to disguise his hulking bulk
or the scales covering his demon face, Chaos rumbled, "That is why this
little one needs to be turned."
-------------------------
Two weeks later.
"Her potential is. unmappable. Pure power." the mentat mused in awe. The
lights covering the surfaces of the large domed helmet it wore blinked
with
such rapidity, the room, darkened to allow it to focus on the multitude of
computer screens lining its nest, was awash in the bursts of tiny yellow
and
red lights.
"There's nothing pure about power," said Glory from over its shoulder. She
had been standing a good two meters from it but had to get closer to peer
herself at the myriad screens. Her delicate nose wrinkled at the stale
odor
the shriveled little former-man with the huge head and the poor teeth,
rotted from lack of use, emitted. Mentats were notorious for their poor
hygiene, especially when hooked to their Machine, all essential nutrients
and excretory functions taken care of by the intravenous solutions and
draining apparatuses that could not fully suppress the odors of the
natural
body functions they superseded. And this particular one had been attached
to
its Machine for the better part of the past 72 hours. "Which is why it can
always be transferred to another holder. I want it." She turned to the
closest EA, one of her mid-level minions, a frightened-looking woman of
forty-five or so. How she had managed to survive so long in Glorificus'
company was a wonder that fortunately for the sake of the better than
average pay Glory was far too busy to pay mind to. "Does she have family?"
Her eyes seemed to naturally narrow at the last word, before she shook her
head in impatience. "What does it matter. Not at all. You'll get it for
me."
And with her master's direct authorization, the EA arranged to send an
A-level retrieval team to Sunnydale.
-------------------------
"Extraordinary," muttered Giles. He pulled his glasses from his face, and
began to wipe them with his pocket square as he looked at the printout
Andrew held to him.
"Oh, I don't know. All you have to do is be wired into a supercomputer or
something," said Andrew. "It wouldn't be too hard."
"No, not too hard, unlike, actually having resource to said
supercomputer?"
Andrew thought about it a second. "Oh," Andrew said sheepishly. He wasn't
a
practical applications type of thinker.
"Oh," confirmed Giles. "By the by, how many supercomputers are left that
could handle that task in the less-than-eight seconds it took her to
complete?"
"Yeah, and that." Andrew trailed off.
Giles replaced his eyeglasses. "Keep her monitored-and me informed, of any
changes, no matter how slight, to the young lady's circumstances."
-------------------------
"If it's something that Glory wants, then it's something we need," the
MABELL Veepico-Acquisitions said. All the Veepicos looked and sounded the
same, down to their carefully maintained professional androgyny. One could
only distinguish them by the descriptive following their title. Luckily,
they wore name badges prominently displayed as per corporate policy, above
the left breast pocket of their standard heather grey business suits.
Imbedded into the badges were transmitters that allowed their movements
within the corporate offices to be tracked and permitted them access,
unlocking the portals and corridors that segregated them into their
respective areas. The Veepico-Acquisitions seemed to have more clout than
the normal Veepico. It had a thin white stripe patterned into its heather
grey suit. "Draft a proposal to secure whatever resources are necessary to
close it. Convene The Board. Push it through today. This hour. Get her."
The
lawyers scurried.
-------------------------
"Genius level, huh?" Ira looked down at his small daughter, from the top
of
her brownish-red hair to her sneaker-clad feet, then back again to the
scholastic aptitude test summary he held in his hand. Sheila beamed down
at
the girl over her husband's shoulder. She was a good half foot taller than
Ira, so it wasn't hard. "Still? Guess all those video games you play
haven't
made your brain all mush yet, huh?" The corner of his mouth twitched
upward
in teasing. His daughter was more wont to take apart the video games and
then put them back into functional but different working order than
actually
play them like other kids. Being a programmer himself for a small firm
that
catered to the financial industry but never quite able to break the
mid-level class or pay level with the decades-long glut of qualified
programmers currently on the market, he was quite smug in his pride of his
little prodigy. Of course, it didn't bode well for her having a truly
lucrative career like in entertainment-sports, or movies or teevee or
such.
Still, the pay could be quite good if you got up over to the upper tier.
Then the big players like Glory or MABELL could even recruit. Ira just had
to keep her interested in it until he could get her into a decent trade
school. He and Sheila had started a savings account for that, and he
doggedly put in 3 percent of his bi-weekly pay into it. Sheila put in 20
from her job at the college. A lot of their family's hope to break out of
the lower-middle-class Sunnydale district rested on Willow's thin
shoulders.
Willow looked back at her parents solemnly, with her characteristically
soulful, large green eyes as wide as they got. She smiled, a bit
sheepishly,
and shrugged. She had felt a little twinge at the back of her brain
throughout the testing, like someone was standing over her shoulder as she
typed in the answers. After a moment's discomfort, she had let it go.
Truth
be told, she didn't care if one or all 50 of her classmates copied off her
exam. The puzzles the mathematical equations posed were kind of fun, like
fiddling with her video games, though without the physical challenge of
manipulating a controller. "It was actually pretty easy." The smile faded
a
little. Her friend Xander had not found it so easy. His father had beat
him
when his scores arrived. She had seen the purpling on his upper arm, under
the sleeve of his tee shirt this morning. He had tried to hide his shame
with a flippant shrug of his shoulders.
Ira shook his head, still smiling. "Oh no you don't. Don't be embarrassed
that you're the smartest or the best of your class, pum'kin. Never be
ashamed of being more than everyone else, if that's what you are. If it's
who you're meant to be, you have to fill that potential." He winked at her
and turned, in effect dismissing her. It had been a long day, his eyes
hurt
and his left wrist was acting up again, and he was about ready for a nap.
Willow turned and scampered to her room. She had found an algorithm that
replicated itself 843 steps down a decanumeric system.
She had to write it down with her different colored pens before her busy
brain moved onto a new mystery and forgot this one. They made such pretty
patterns.
-----
end, Witch Maclay, part 1
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