Buffy The Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. Characters from other tv shows and films belong to their respective creators. All original characters are the property of Wispr.

Authors Note: First off, I want to thank my Brother for the proofreading! Second, The Goliath Chronicles never happen and the biggest change I’m making with Gargoyle Canon is that there are no hand held laser weapons. Also multiple partner warning later in the series

A big thanks to rebelrsr for agreeing to become my second beta and for taking on the big job of reediting my older chapters… thanks! When a old chapter is reedited I'll add -Edited By rebelrsr- in the Author Notes at the head of that chapter.

:::Means a memory flashback:::

Chapter: 1

Willow gave a quiet sigh as she watched the costume shop proprietor help Buffy with the seventeenth century dress that she was almost literally drooling over. Xander had already bought the toy gun he was looking for and was just wandering around the store. Willow was happy for Buffy. Things between her and Angel seemed to be going so well.

And yet, she had to admit to herself that she was jealous, too. It wasn’t until just a few day’s ago that while she was bandaging a nasty slash on Buffy’s back that it struck her. She was VERY attracted to her best friend - her best friend who was a girl! She knew she had acted strangely afterward, but she couldn’t help it. The feel of Buffy’s flesh under her fingers just wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

Giving another heart felt sigh, Willow turned back to perusing the wigs on display. So far, she was disappointed with the selection; her costume just had to be right. Everything else she had put together for her costume was as authentic as she could make it, though she couldn’t actually afford to buy the brand names her idol wore. She bought the closest looking business suit, or what the media started calling, “The Red Power Suit”, that she could find. She also took one of her mom’s old briefcases and filled it with stock quotes and brochures that she had sent off for when the company first opened for business.

Willow knew her friends wouldn’t really think much of her choice of costumes, but, like Buffy had said to her earlier, “Halloween is the night that you are you, but not you, you know?”

Ok, Willow had to acknowledge that it took her several minutes to decipher exactly what Buffy meant, but once she did, she agreed with it whole-heartedly! That’s why she decided to dress as the person she wanted to most emulate.

“Can I help you?” a very British sounding voice enquired from behind her. Willow was rather proud of herself that all she did was let out a quiet, “Eek!” instead of the blood-curdling scream that was her first impulse. Turning to face the proprietor, Willow gave him a small, tight smile, “Oh, I’m looking for a special wig.”

After a moment of silence - and seeing no further information was forthcoming - the proprietor gave Willow a warm smile and bowed slightly. “Ahh, let me introduce myself. My name is Rayne, Ethan Rayne. But I would be greatly honored if such a pretty lass such as yourself would call me Ethan.”

Willow could feel her face turning beet red as she looked down in embarrassment. “Thank you… uh… Ethan. I’m Willow, Willow Rosenberg”.

“And now that the formalities have been taken care of, how may I be of service?” Ethan said with another smile.

“Well, like I said before, I’m looking for a special wig to finish my costume.” Willow frowned to herself; she hoped she wasn’t about to upset Mr. Rayne, he was so very Britishly proper like Giles. “I don’t see one that would work.”

“May I enquire into the uniqueness of this wig you are searching for?” Ethan asked, his British accent making the question sound so suave.

Willow felt her face heat up again as she pulled from her purse a picture she had printed off the Internet some time ago. “I’m dressing as her.” Willow showed Mr. Rayne the picture. “I got the clothes, but my hair isn’t even close to hers, and I want this to be perfect.”

After getting a nod of consent, Ethan took the picture and as he studied it, he asked, “Who is she, one of those supermodels or movie heroines?”

“Oh no!” Willow replied earnestly. “She’s the owner and CEO of Nightstone Unlimited. Her name is Dominique Destine, and she is the fastest rising…”

Ethan just stood there in awe as the red head told him the life history (or at least what she was able to find) of Ms. Destine. After several minutes had gone by - didn’t this bird need to breathe? - he gently interrupted her. “Yes, yes I’m quite sure she is a wonderful person, and I do believe I can help you. There are some wigs in the back that I hadn’t unpacked yet. If you can but give me a few moments, I’ll be back.”

“Sure, and thanks,” Willow replied with a big smile.

Taking the picture with him (he told her it was to help him find the wig), Ethan closed and locked the backroom door and then went about gathering the ingredients for the spell he had in mind. After everything was ready he used the picture as a focus to change one of the long-haired witch’s wigs he had into what was shown in the photograph. The enchantment would only last a day, but that would be long enough. He chuckled to himself, taking an odd sort of pride in satisfying his customers.

Willow watched avidly as Mr. Rayne set a wig case on the counter and opened it. “I do hope this was what you had in mind,” Ethan said to her as he pulled out its contents.

Willow could feel her mouth drop in shock. It was perfect! After paying for it and thanking him profusely, Willow left with her two friends who had waited for her to finish her purchase.

Evening…

In the backroom of the now closed costume shop, Ethan knelt in front of the bust of the Two Faced God Janus. He was just finishing the ritual that would turn all of the people who had bought his costumes into living representations of those costumes. With a look of sinister glee, he completed the enchantment, “Chaos. I remain, as ever, thy faithful, degenerate son.” As he saw the bust’s eyes begin to glow, he whispered to himself, “Showtime!”

Demona was shocked to find herself standing on a porch in what looked like a small town, with numerous small creatures running around her. The last thing she remembered was getting ready to take off from her manor in New York. Suddenly, she screamed and doubled over in pain. Demona was even more surprised that she was in her human form again. It seemed that she was transforming into her true form like she did every sunset.

She cried out as she felt her bones break and reform. The clothes she was wearing ripped apart as her gargoyle form emerged. Once the pain of the transformation receded, Demona looked around her new surroundings, trying to determine how she got there. As she walked off the porch, Demona gave her wings a good stretch and then draped them over her shoulder. Paying more attention to what was happening around her, she was startled to recognize actual fictional characters that seemed to have been brought to life. She had interacted with the human world long enough to have seen some of them in passing on the TV or in bookstores.

Suddenly, an uncomfortable idea came to her. Ignoring the chaos going on around her, Demona walked over to the nearest parked car and tore off side view mirror. Looking into it only confirmed her fears: she wasn’t in her own body! She could see that though this body mimicked hers, there were minor differences in bone structure and size that made her think of a human teenager. The face was completely different also. Dropping the mirror, Demona searched the rags she was wearing for any form of ID. Coming up empty, she went back to where she first awoke and found a briefcase lying by the pair of destroyed shoes she had been wearing. Looking though its contents, Demona quickly found a picture of her Dominique persona from one of the various Business Magazines. “Well”, she thought to herself, “at least I’m not some fictional character like the others.” It had to be some kind of spell, and by the Dragon she was going to track down the caster and skin him or her alive!

First, though, she needed to gain some height, and she did this by simply climbing up the side of the house she was by and leaping off the roof. Her flight was wobbly at first while she got used to the body she currently inhabited. In no time, though, she was catching the thermals from the pavement and rooftops below her. Once she was at a sufficient height, Demona looked upon the town with her Mage Sight. Mage Sight was an ability anyone who wanted to become a high level practitioner of the Arts of Sorcery had to learn. It allowed her to see the magical emanations from items of magic, spells and even areas where magic had permeated the land. What she saw shook her to her very core: the whole town glowed with demonic energy. For a moment, all she was able to do was glide in stunned silence; the only thing she could think of that would cause such an effect was a Hellmouth! Demona had always believed that they were but myths of old. Shaking her head, Demona tore her thoughts away from this horrific discovery to focus on the more pressing matter - ending this spell she was under. Afterward, when she was back in her own body, would she thoroughly investigated this new discovery.

Demona first looked at her own body and was able to recognize the magical signature. Chaos magic that was powered by divine might. Obviously, a follower of one of the multitude of Chaos Gods, such as Discordia or Janus, was involved in this debacle. It took considerable amount of concentration to see beyond the demonic energy, but once she was able to, it was easy to trace the lines of power that originated from the cursed costumes back to their source. Once she got close enough, Demona spotted the epicenter of the spell. It glowed like a bonfire made of chaos. After landing quietly in front of the darkened store, Demona was surprised to find the front door unlocked. Shrugging to herself (for a locked door wouldn’t have stopped her anyway), Demona entered the building.

When Ethan heard the front door open and close, he turned with an arrogant smile on his face, “Was wondering how long it take you to get here, old chum, and now…” Ethan’s words came to an end when he saw the silhouette was most definitely not that of his old friend Ripper. Well, not unless he lost a head of height and went back to the hairstyle that he had when they ran together. He narrowed his eyes in thought. The hair tickled his memory.

“You are the one responsible for this.” It was more a statement of fact than posed as a question, and it was said in a voice as cold as the darkest winter nights back in Merry Old England.

Fighting not to show how disquieted he was beginning to feel, Ethan answered, “Why, yes, I am.” He gave the shadowy figure a cocky bow. “I am but a humble servant of Janus, but since you were able to find me, I must assume you, too, are a practitioner of one of the Mystical Arts.” Pausing a moment, his memory suddenly clicked, and he gave the young woman a - what was the Yankee slang - ah…yes, a shit eating grin. “But of course you are, that was how you were able to rise so fast in the corporate world, isn’t that correct, Ms. Destine?” Once her name passed his lips, he knew he had made a terrible mistake. Her eyes suddenly flared blood red, and she erupted from the shadows in all of her gargoyle glory to bodily slam him against the wall. Well, let’s just say that was the final nail in the coffin.

Demona looked upon the Chaos Mage with disdain. Even trapped in this younger gargoyle body, it was easy for her to hold him pinned to the wall with one clawed hand wrapped around his throat. “Tell me,” she hissed in his face, “how did you recognize me?”

The Mage answered as best as he could in the predicament he was in. “The young lady who dressed like you had a picture. She idolizes you, you know, and before you do anything drastic to me, I know her name.”

Demona wanted to swipe the gloating smile off of his face, but she held herself in check. She needed to know who she was currently possessing, just in case the human should retain any memories of this night.

“Fine, tell me, and I’ll let you live”, she grated out through tightly clenched fangs.

Ethan knew at that moment the Grim Reaper had passed him by once again. Gripping the blue skin arm holding him against the wall, he demanded to be let down. She did, though Ethan thought she didn’t have to be so rough about it. After straightening his clothes, he began to talk. “Well, first off, I’d like a Blood Oath from you.” He gave her a rakish grin. “I believe you have thoughts of ending my dear old life, and we can’t have that, now can we?”

“Agreed; although, you will also tell me how to end this spell,” she replied. When he gave her a nod in agreement, Demona made a shallow cut in the palm of her hand with one of her claws. She couldn’t help wondering if any of her Immortality would linger in the young woman’s body after she was gone. Letting the blood drip to the floor, she spoke, “I so swear upon the magic in my blood that when I leave you will be alive, and that afterward I will not hunt you down unless you try to cause me or mine harm.” Demona raised one brow ridge in challenge as she finished giving the Oath.

Ethan smirked at her making him wait. Then, in an oily voice, he said, “I gracefully accept your Oath, my dear lady.”

Her lips curling in a snarl, she asked, “How do you end the spell?”

With a wave of his hand, Ethan replied, “Simple, my dear, just smash the bust within the circle, and everyone will go back as they were.”

“And the girl’s name? Also, what town is this?” Demona demanded.

“Ahh, yes, the young woman called herself Willow Rosenberg, and you are currently residing in Sunnydale, California. It is also known as Sunnyhell due to the active Hellmouth located here.” Ethan was feeling rather generous tonight.

Demona gave the Chaos Mage a nod of thanks and then commenced to ram both clawed hands into his stomach. She watched as his eyes bulged out in shock and agony. Smiling sweetly, she sliced through his intestines and any other lower organs she could reach. With a slight sucking sound, Demona withdrew her gore-covered hands. She ignored the thump of his body hitting the floor as she made her way to the bust. After stepping within the circle, she picked the bust up. Holding it aloft, she turned to meet the horror filled eyes of the mortally wounded mage and spoke as she gave him one of her most sinister smiles, “I never promised not to harm you, now did I?”

Laughing, Demona smashed the bust of Janus against the floor.

To be continued…