(Here it is . . . a XS fanfic with an original character (dun, Dun, DUN). That's right; I caved to my crazy fangirl side. Welcome to "Heylin Rebirth", starring . . . Freya Ishtar. Yes, that's right, me (okay, so perhaps about 10 lbs. slimmer and a ¼ inch shorter). Just to let you in on a li'l info about me for those of you who don't know me (which many of you do not) I am a Pagan goth-chick from New York City . . . it's a wonder I'm not in therapy. No, I am not insane. Oh, and I also speak with a southern drawl when I'm angry or flustered . . . don't ask, I have never known anyone who spoke that way& it's confused the crap out of my parents since I was 5.)

Chapter One

A Fateful Day

"Spicer, wake up!"

Jack opened his tired eyes to the sound of Chase Young's voice, only to see the man seated in his usual, ornate throne-like chair dining neatly, but . . . the image was upside down. What the . . . ? Looking down . . . um . . . up he saw that the front of his black pajama shirt was clutched in the jaws of a large, unfriendly looking feline, suspending him nearly a foot from the floor. Normally such a thing would frighten him, but it was not the first time he'd found himself in this sort of predicament.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Chase, it's a SUNDAY! Can't evil sleep in for just one day?"

"Not when there are important matters to attend to." He appeared as though he was about to say more, but was unceremoniously interrupted by a loud snoring from the other end of the table.

This brought both sets of eyes to Wuya. One elbow propped up on the arm of her chair the sorceress had dozed off, her triangular chin resting against her palm. Chase sighed, shaking his head and waved dismissively at the feline holding Jack. The young man screamed as he was dropped to the ground with a resounding thud and the combination of sudden noises jarred Wuya from her sleep, chin slipping from her hand as she glanced around quickly, startled but groggy.

"Good." Chase began, wiping the corner of his mouth with a silk napkin before rising smoothly from his chair. "Now that you are both here and awake, we have business to attend to."

"Business that couldn't wait until noon?" Wuya asked with a tired roll of her acid-green eyes.

"Yeah." Jack agreed, yawning as he pulled himself up to sit cross-legged on the floor. "If she's not sensin' a Wu, what's the point?"

Crossing his arms across his chest, Chase frowned deeply at them- and secretly relished the responding fear he saw in both of their faces. "For starters, it is now a quarter past noon. And for once we are after a tool much more important than any mere Wu."

When they both fell into surprised silence, Chase nodded, continuing. "The next Heylin Witch is about to awaken."

Wuya's eyes went white all around and she looked almost angry. "Oh, no . . . ."

Jack shook his head. "Wait . . . what?"

"Every few centuries, someone is born with the capacity to learn all of the most powerful and ancient Heylin magicks. This is the result of a spell cast millennia ago to ensure the survival of the Heylin- a mystical lineage, if you will. Of course, the time-line has been thrown off by this genius getting herself locked in a puzzle-box for fifteen hundred years."

Wuya rolled her eyes again, giving a bored shrug. "Could have happened to anybody."

"Do you have any idea how many of our number we may have lost over these centuries- three, perhaps four? How many brought about their own demise because they were in possession of powers they could not control because of your little slip?"

The feline returned, spitting a pile of Jack's clothes into his lap. "OH, eww . . . tiger-slobber!"

Chase snapped his fingers and a dividing screen popped up in front of the young man. "Please get dressed."

"So, if Wuya couldn't do it, then why didn’t you go and find them?"

"Because that is not my job, but after studying the matter I have come to a realization."

"Please do enlighten us." Wuya inquired in a sour tone.

"That if we find her before she is fully awakened and bind her loyalty to us . . . she can wield any power that either of us can teach her."

Wuya grinned. "That would be useful."

"Sounds like trouble to me." Jack chimed in, coming out from behind the screen. "Let me get this straight, more powerful than you and pre-puzzle-box Wuya?"

"Give or take a few centuries of proper training, yes."

"What if this backfires and she turns against you?"

"Perhaps you missed the part where I had said we would bind her to us? Though, of course, by us, you must realize I mean me. What more useful tool than a servant that can bring the world down upon your enemies on your whim?"

"Oh . . . . So what now? How do we find her?"

"That is the simple part. Now that she is awakening, the first power granted is the ability to sense Shen Gong Wu. Therefore, we must all be on guard as she may stumble her way into a Showdown, and we must gain her confidence before the Xiaolin."

Jack was confused yet again. "I thought you said she was born to be evil."

Muttering angrily under his breath, Chase gave a slow, controlled shake of his head. "Evil is not born, it is made. How many times must I say it? One must make the decision to become evil of their own free will, but if the Xiaolin win her to their side . . . ." He fixed Wuya with a hard stare. "She will make their Grand Master Dashi look like a kindergartener."

Wuya suddenly sat bolt-upright in her chair. "How fortunate. It would seem I'm sensing a Wu right now."

"FREYA!"

Grumbling unintelligibly, Freya's body sagged against the bathroom sink at the sound of Daphne Ishtar's shrill voice screaming from the downstairs hall. Plucking the toothbrush out of her mouth, the young woman spat out the minty foam and poked her head out of the door.

"Damn, ma! I'm up, I'm already dressed. Stop screaming!"

At this, she could hear her mother's footsteps ascending the staircase. "What? You, up and dressed before twelve-thirty on a Sunday? What's the occasion?"

Freya slid the toothbrush back into its holder and shook her head, hazel eyes giving a slow, dramatic blink as her gaze locked with the reflection of her mother's in the bathroom mirror. The older woman rested her hip against the doorjamb, watching her daughter with an all too familiar note of concern.

"Nothin', I just . . . couldn't really sleep last night."

Daphne frowned. "Those dreams again, huh?"

"Yeah." Freya replied with a tired sigh, leaning closer to the mirror and pulling on her golden-cinnamon hair to inspect the growing hint of ash blonde at her scalp. "Need to do my roots."

"Did you put an amethyst under your pillow?"

"Yes- didn't help matters."

"Hmm. Usin' the dreamcatcher your cousin made you?"

Brow furrowing, Freya made a little disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "No, and I'm not planning to. It's made outta red yarn and has a chicken bone strung in the middle."

"She's only eight, give her a little credit, and it works just as well as any other."

"Not for me it wouldn't."

"Still can't make any sense out of 'em?"

"No." Shrugging, Freya scooped her hair up into a high ponytail as she continued. "Most of 'em I can't remember clearly enough to even try and the others are so realistic it's hard to wrap my head around 'em."

Daphne crossed her arms under her breasts. "Maybe you should reconsider regression-therapy."

"C'mon mom. I've told you how I feel about that- they are my past lives and I'll remember if and when I am supposed to."

Her mother nodded, mouth folded inward in a thoughtful line. "You gonna go to the store any time soon? Pick up some hair dye?"

Freya quirked an eyebrow. "Was thinking about it . . . ." Only now did she notice the folded green bills in Daphne's hand. "Mother . . . ?"

"I need you to stop by Mr. Hong's for me."

Mr. Hong's was the only true apothecary shop in their section of Queens."I knew I should have moved out as soon as I turned eighteen."

"And yet, here you still are- three years later and living rent free. I'll pay for your hair dye!"

Rolling her eyes, Freya caved easily to the bribe. "Fine. Whaddya need?"

Handing over the cash, Daphne clapped excitedly, making Freya question- for what was probably the tenth time in half as many days- who was really the daughter in their family-dynamic. "Cinnamon, lavender and four green candles."

Freya nodded, pocketing the money before running the short list over in her head as she tugged a brush through her voluminous- if pin-straight- hip-length ponytail. Concentration, relaxation and . . . oh no "Please tell me you're not trying a money-spell!"

"No." Her mother replied with an understanding smile. "I am however asking for a raise tomorrow, so I'm going to do a special meditation before bed tonight."

"Alright then, I'm off." She planted a quick kiss on Daphne's cheek before shouldering past her.

"Wait, have something t' eat first."

"Not really hungry." Freya responded as she reached the foot of the stairs.

"D'you take your iron pills?"

"No, but I feel fine!" With that, she was out the door, closing it loudly behind her.

She couldn't help grumbling under her breath as she set off down the block, trying to ignore the slight drawl that she could hear coloring her words. "Nevermind that I just bought her some fresh lavender root three weeks ago for planting so she wouldn't find herself in a last-minute pinch. Is it too much to ask for the woman to do some upkeep on her own damned herb garden?"

The agitation dribbled away as she continued winding her way down the street towards the small, suburban-esque town's commercial area and was replaced by a strange feeling of foreboding. It was always quiet here, but Sunday afternoons usually found the place almost bustling- cars going to and from church, people stocking up on groceries for the upcoming week, children playing or flying kites in the lightly forested local park beneath the bridge that led to The Bronx. But the quickly graying sky was enough of a threat to keep everyone locked indoors today. Well, almost everyone. She wondered if the streets being so unusually deserted wasn't the reason for the sudden sense of unease stealing over her.

Normally, Freya loved the minute chill of creepiness she felt at things like wandering these same deserted streets alone at night, sneaking into one of the many abandoned turn-of-the-century houses that dotted the shore-line or opening one of the small, leather-bound grimmoires with the thin, spidery hand-writing her great-grandmother had left to her. But this was different. Unfamiliar . . . like . . . like she was being called somehow.

As she passed the gates of the park, the sensation grew stronger- suddenly an almost physical thing that stopped her in her tracks, forcing her to backpedal a few steps, leading her right back to the entrance. Whatever it was that was trying to reach out to her, it was here. It felt like she had to be here . . . and like she was trespassing at the same time. Past the grassy, sparsely wooded field, she wound her way through the playground to a hole in the tightly-looped chain-link fence that reappeared no matter how many times it had been fixed.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been here; a few years ago she'd started to have recurring dreams of this place and hadn't set foot past the gates since. Strange dreams of a cemetery on the park grounds; of searching for one particular gravestone that was supposed to hold something secret and special. In the dream, she always knew what she was looking for, though she could never recall what it was when she woke , passing through the ripped metal into the thicker bit of forest here, it felt eerily like those imaginings. Well, if you ignored the blatant signs of secret, underage partying.

I swear, if I trip over a gravestone, I'm never setting foot outta my house again! It wasn't that she was frightened- known for running towards the chilling sounds in the abandoned, reputedly haunted house while everyone else was running away- but she was perfectly aware that her curiosity often overrode any sort of common sense. The deeper the woods became, and the further she got from the empty beer cans and stubbed out cigarettes littering the forest floor, the more uneasy she felt, but whatever was pulling her to this place was now too strong to turn away from.

To her surprise the trees stopped abruptly, opening onto a small clearing. What the . . . ? How long has this been here? Closing her eyes, she allowed the overpowering pull to guide her steps- despite her upbringing as an open-minded pagan with a healthy respect for the supernatural, she'd never experienced anything like this before . . . . Well, not in her waking hours, anyway.

The forward motion of the pull changed direction suddenly, shifting until she felt it beneath her, all but forcing Freya to her knees. Opening her eyes, she saw a patch of dry, soft earth. It's . . . it's here?

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me." She muttered in disbelief, glancing around quickly as she wiped sweaty palms on her black velvet jeans. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Giving herself a little shake, she began scooping out handfuls of dried soil as she tried to wrap her head around what the hell she was doing. In the middle of the deserted park . . . with the sky about to open up and pour buckets any second . . . still haven't gone to Mr. Hong's, still haven't bought my hair dye . . . and yet, here I am . . . digging with my bare hands for gods only know what in a place that I could swear sprang up outta no where. The hole was getting deeper and she was beginning to lose heart. Freya, you are a fucking genius! There's nothing here and yet you're still digg- her fingertips contacted metal- ing?

Shaking her head in disbelief, she shifted to sit cross-legged and leaned forward, reaching both hands into the hole. Slipping her fingers around a slim, golden bar, she pulled it free- only to blink in shock at the object in her hands. A scepter? She wasn't certain what it was- a short slender staff topped with a cloudy rose-quartz orb that was encircled by several intertwining silver rings- but that seemed the only suitable word to describe it.

It . . . looks like something out of a fairytale . . . or an anime. "Yeah, who am I, Sailor Moon? What the hell is this thing?"

"That would be the Aiko Scepter. A mystical item."

Her head snapped towards the voice to see- "AHHHH!" Scrambling off to one side of the hole, she crossed her arms protectively over the object, guarding it.

Nothing- not even the unparalleled strangeness of the last few moments- could have prepared her for the sight of a . . . dragon? A small one, but still, unquestionably a creature that resembled every depiction of a serpentine dragon she'd ever seen. And yet, it was surrounded by a motley group of average, everyday looking people- all probably her age. A tall, burly looking cowboy, a cute, fashion-ista Asian girl . . . with blue eyes? A lanky Latino surfer-boy, and . . . a short, bald . . . monk?

"Oh, ye gods!" Hazel eyes went wide all around and Freya could feel herself on the verge of tears as her gaze dropped, raking over the ground in front of her. "It's finally happened! I've completely fucking snapped!"

"No, you haven't." The girl began gently, Freya couldn't help continuing to skitter herself backwards as they continued their cautious approach. "That thing you're holding is called a Shen Gong Wu, and we came here looking for it."

"It would be of no use to you, so if you would please give it to us, we will be on our way." The monk said in a cheerful tone.

When she only continued to back away, her gaze darting helplessly between them all and had yet to even get to her feet, the surfer-boy shook his head. "I don't think the goth-chick gets it."

There was something almost insulting in his tone and- despite feeling like she was having a psychotic episode- that was all Freya needed to hear to bring back some semblance of her senses. "Hey! I don't know who you are or what you want with this thing, but I found it fair and square so it belongs to me."

The dragon folded his little arms, shrugging as he regarded the surfer-boy. "I'd say she gets it just fine. Speakin' of . . . how'd you find it?"

"I-I . . . felt it, okay?" She demanded in a fearful tone.

At those words the strangers all froze for a moment, looking towards eachother with questioning eyes before all attention landed on the dragon, who could only shake his head. "Ya got me."

"Please miss," the cowboy tried, taking a step forward and frowning at the way it sent her inching back again, "if you hang on to that thing, you could be in real danger."

Suddenly, still a few yards from her, the group halted and the surfer-boy cracked his knuckles, his gaze fixed high over Freya's head. "We've got company."

Freya finally stopped her skittering-retreat just in time to feel something against her back. Oh GODS, what now? Turning her head slowly to look over her shoulder, she saw what looked to be a pair of golden greaves behind her. Timidly lifting her gaze, she followed black pants up to a strange, feudal-style breastplate and at last came to rest on the underside of a man's jaw. He tipped his head forward to look down at her, a lock of shiny black hair falling into his handsome face and she was struck by a jarring sense of familiarity.

Everything around her seemed for fall away for a split-second as she searched his face, positive that she knew him, but knowing that she didn't. "I've . . . I've seen you before." She whispered.

His expression didn't change, save for one eyebrow quirking as his head tilted curiously to one side. "Have you?"

The moment was shattered by someone landing in front of her, and Freya's head snapped in the direction of the sound, her eyes raising again to the shoulders of a black trench-coat, a head of spiky, fire-engine-red hair above them and a pair of . . . propellers? . . . extended from a small, evil looking smiley face backpack that folded in on themselves and disappeared into the bag. I don’t think this day can get any weirder.

"Back it up, Xiaolin losers." The goth-guy said, holding out a hand as though that would ward them off. "She's with us."

For the first time since she'd set foot past the park gates, she found something truly familiar, and therefore, almost comforting, although . . . nah, couldn't be.

"Wait a minute," she said slowly. "I know that voice."

"Huh?" At this, he turned his head, looking down at her over his shoulder. "Oh my God . . . Freya?"

"Um . . . ." She gave a nervous laugh, how in the world did I get here? "Uh, hi Jack."

(Hope this one was alright. Next chapter: 'A Heylin Lesson in Everyday Problems', coming soon.)

(I apologize to Common Knowledge for not yet using the Wu ideas you have given me, but I promise that between this fic and 'Lucid', I will try to use all of them.

The Shen Gong Wu used in this chapter is 'The Aiko Scepter', and full credit for the idea (though I know you haven't seen its power yet) goes to iroh's-tea-fixation here on ff. net.