Spoilers: BTVS: up to season 7, SG1: up to season 3, but not that spoiled 'till later in the story
BTVS: After season seven
SG: early season three
Maybe she should’ve listened to friends; yeah, she definitely should’ve listened to them. If she had she wouldn’t be in this mess, she wouldn’t be crouched on her bedroom floor looking under the bed. She wouldn’t be trying to coax a young boy from under the said piece of furniture.
It wasn’t quite what she’d expected. But then again her magic usually backfired on her. Okay, right now she needed to do a little damage control; she tucked some red hair behind her right ear and peeked under the bed again. Her green eyes connected with the boy’s brown ones; “Come on, you can’t stay under there forever,” she said bringing up some much-needed logic to hopefully draw the kid out.
He couldn’t have been more than eight years old, his longish brown hair hung in his eyes as he stared at her with no small amount of fear from where he lay flat on his stomach.
Exasperated, Willow sighed, “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?” she’d been in this position for almost an hour, maybe she should call Buffy.
The redhead immediately threw that suggestion out the window; the blonde Slayer already had a lot on her plate; this was her fault so she’d put this right. Too bad she didn’t quite know how to deal with kids. Teenagers, she could; but not little kids.
“Are you a w-witch?” the boy said in a small voice.
Surprised, Willow nodded; did the boy see her casting the spell? He had to have done, there was no other reason to ask that question. Maybe the blinding flash of light hadn’t stopped him from seeing her; only stopped her from seeing him at first. At first he’d just looked at her bewildered and then had dived under the bed after dropping a gun.
Willow shook her head, what the hell was that kid doing with a gun in his hands? She looked back at the object which was on the floor behind her looking harmless and docile.
“You’re not going to turn me into a f-frog, are you?” he asked fearfully.
Frogs? Ew! The horrified and revolted look must have shown on her face because the eight year old frowned in confusion. “You don’t like frogs?”
Frogs? Slimy, disgusting, green, bug-eyed, squelchy frogs- heck no! “No,” she said.
“But you’re a witch,” he said looking puzzled and less scared. “Witches like frogs…and broomsticks too!”
Willow smiled, “I’m not THAT kind of witch! I’m—” she thought for a second. “Have you watched ‘The Wizard of Oz’?”
The boy gave her a blank look, then screwed his face up in concentration, “No, I don’t think so.”
“O-oh, well--” Willow thought for a second. “I’m a good witch, and frogs are just icky.”
He nodded eyes wide, and said, “I thought only evil witches went black like that.”
Willow looked confused, “Huh?” Black?
The boy nodded, “Your hair was all black- I thought that meant that you were evil.” He looked down uncertainly and then looked back up at her. “But you’re not evil, are you?”
Willow shook her head, “No, there was an evil-me that I met a few years back—well, that’s a different story for another time.” Best not to confuse the already-confused kid.
She decided to change the subject, “So, um, I’m Willow- that’s my name….what yours?”
He opened his mouth to answer and then faltered, “Uh, I dunno…I DON’T KNOW WHAT MY NAME IS!”
Willow looked stricken, “What did I do?” Pulled a little kid into her room and wiped his memory, said a little voice in the back her head.
She frowned and looked down averting her eyes away from the scared- almost hysterical- child under the bed. Right now she needed to calm him down.
“Maybe you’ve got your name written on the insides of your shoes,” she suggested helplessly. He stopped panicking but still looked frightened.
“Why don’t you come out from under the bed,” she said hopefully. “You know I won’t hurt you.” At least she hoped he did.
He nodded slowly and started moving towards her, she moved back from the bed to give him room; as he came out from the bed she put a hand on his shoulder and helped him up to his feet. She smiled and brushed some hair away from his eyes, “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He shook his head looking a lot less scared than he was an hour ago, he looked down at his shoes and then knelt down to take them off; the witch helped him untie his shoelaces before he pulled them off to check inside.
Willow wondered how on earth her spell could have turned out like this; she had gotten a call a while ago from the Fang Gang back in LA, their friend ‘Gunn’ was missing and they were hoping that she could bring him back using her magic. The spell was foolproof- at least she thought it was. She just had to do the right things in the right order, use the right ingredients and say the right name.
And she had. So what had gone wrong?
“Charlie!” the boy said happily. “My name’s Charlie.”
Willow smiled, “Nifty.” Her smile faltered a little. “Um, Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
The redhead gestured over to the firearm lying on the carpet a little away from them, “Why were you holding that gun?”
And with that question it suddenly dawned on her what had gone wrong, she groaned, “Figures.”
She’d said the right name, ‘Charles Gunn’ but for some reason it backfired and she got a kid named Charlie holding a gun. “Wow, and here I thought I had my magic fully under my control…guess not.”
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Magical Mistakes and Clean Slates
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