Title: Óg Dìoghaltas
Author: JoeHundredaire
Rating: PG-13/FR15
Disclaimer: Right, I actually went and checked to be sure this time… after being passed around like a slut at a frat party over the past few years, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel: the Series, and all associated characters now belong to Warner Brothers. With a myriad of writers, artists, and editors - and directors, now that we're getting decent movie and television renditions - actual rights are a nightmare when you go near a comic book universe. Suffice it to say that Marvel Entertainment LLC owns all of the property printed in their comics, along with the television and movie adaptations of said same property. Not mine, don't sue, and so forth and so on.
Summary: "Nice rack, Xander." "…because getting compliments on tits I shouldn't even have isn't weird at all. Thanks, Kennedy."
Joe's Note: After one of my Fic-a-Day story posts, I got an email from dogbertcarroll. I'll condense it down to the salient point in the interest of getting to what you all came for:
The basic idea is that Xander gets wounded post Sunnydale and (thanks to the chaos that still clings to him) healing him with magic is a bit complicated. Willow figured out it's easier to change him thanks to the chaos and turns him into a slayer. As a slayer he can easily heal wounds that will kill a normal human, and had an impressive rack. Which leads to a bit of drooling on Willow's part and some jealousy on Kennedy's. Willow tries to change him back once he's healed but can't get it to work right.
He wanted me to take it from there into the DC universe but that's really not my wheelhouse and my Lexipedia was too busy settling in back at home and catching up on her day job to hold my hand through even a one-shot. So I decided to keep the vague outline and the superhero theme, but spin it back in a direction I was more comfortable with…
Dedications & Thanks: To Alexander, Nicholas, MJ, Judedeath, James, Ken, Thyatira, Daniel, Vi9, William, Koby, Wil, Thomas, Christopher, Juan, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on , and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.

"I'm a girl."

"It was the only-"

"You turned me into a girl."

"I had to! Otherwise, you wou-"

"I hate to break it to you, Willow, but you're not a deity at all, much less a Goddess of Death! Who lives and dies isn't up to you! And so no, you didn't 'have' to do anything! You chose to do something! Just like I chose to step in front of that sword for Faith! I chose to sacrifice myself so that she could make the killing blow! I didn't have to. I could have let her die. One of the other Slayers would have killed the demon in her place. Might have had to sacrifice another Slayer on top of Faith to set things up the same way. We'll never know, because I made a choice. Because I realized that it was either me or one of them, at least one of them. So I chose to die so that someone else younger, faster, stronger, more powerful, more important to the fight... could live. But then you decided that my choices didn't mean anything to you, and so you reached in and took my free will away from me."

Stomping her foot petulantly, Willow Rosenberg crossed her arms over her chest. "Because it wasn't a rational choice. You know what you call someone who chooses to die before they're even in the prime of their life? Suicidal. You weren't in your right mind. So I decided to help you."

Xander Harris scoffed before waving dismissively at the reflection in the mirror he was standing in front of. "If this is your idea of 'help', I'd hate to see what you might do to me if you were actually trying to harm me. And…" Reaching up, Xander grabbed at his throat before whirling around to glare at the woman standing in the bathroom doorway behind him. "It's bad enough that I'm suddenly the wrong gender, even worse that I'm significantly younger than I should be… but why the fuck did you turn me into Merida?"

Willow scowled, bringing a hand up to poke at Xander's far too squishy chest. "Don't take that tone of voice with me, buster. If you hadn't gotten your body so polluted with all kinds of different magic over the years, I would have been able to heal you just fine without resorting to something like this. So if you think about it, it's actually your fault that you're like this."

Eyes widening, Xander reached up and batted Willow's hand away, suppressing the urge to apologize when he heard something in the redhead's forearm crack. The pain was as temporary as the injury itself, he consoled himself; Willow would inevitably fix it with magic, just like she 'fixed' anything else she perceived to be wrong with the world around her. "No, me being dead because of the choice I made would be my fault. I didn't ask you to try healing me, much less… this. So this is all completely your fault and I'm not going to let you duck responsibility. Speaking of ducking, though, I'm still waiting for an answer. Why… am… I… Merida?"

After an attempt at Resolve Face didn't sway Xander in the slightest, Willow smiled nervously as she cradled her injured arm against her chest. "Well, um, the accent is the easiest to explain." She paused, gathering her thoughts, and Xander narrowed his eyes before gesturing impatiently for her to continue. "When you were unconscious in the infirmary, I transformed you into a girl and then turned you into a Slayer so you'd have their healing. I started trying to turn you back into a Xander-shaped person once your body didn't, you know, have a giant hole poked in it anymore. But I couldn't. Ungirl you, I mean. So I had them keep you under for a bit longer so that I could collect some memories and copy them into your head. I mean, I think we can both agree that it would be awkward weird not-fun if one of us had to teach you how to put a bra on or how to sit properly in a skirt or what to do when your period comes aro-"

Groaning, Xander slapped his hand over Willow's mouth, cutting off her babbling. "Twenty words or less." Although while it didn't explain the accent, it did explain why he was having a hard time staying angry about his current situation no matter how hard he tried. Willow had already reprogrammed him to be fine with his girlhood by way of a pile of memories that would make it seem natural and comfortable. Awesome. Because nothing said friendship like a nice, thorough mind fucking.

The answer came not from Willow, who stood there pouting at him petulantly, but instead from the shorter Latina who had arrived at some point and was now peeking over the redhead's shoulder at him. "Willow scooped too much out of Orla's head to cram into yours, and so now you're Scottish." Charisse Kennedy paused, using her fingers to count how many words she'd used so far, before tossing out a few more. "Nice rack, Xander."

"…because getting compliments on tits I shouldn't even have isn't weird at all. Thanks, Kennedy."

"Yeah, I can see how that'd be weird. Hmm. You're supposed to have an ass even as a guy. Can I compliment that instead? I'm really more of an ass girl, which comes in handy because Willow is… well, Willow."

Xander blew a raspberry at the utterly unapologetic Slayer before turning back around so he could study his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his long, wild, orangish-red locks several times before ruffling it and letting out a groan. "Okay, fine, I'll accept that the accent is a side effect of a necessary evil, AKA the girl memory stuffage thing. If it really starts to bother me, I can always hire an accent coach to help me mellow it out, just like anyone else who cringes at the sound of their own voice. But what about the rest of me? Was the whole body Merida makeover really necessary? Especially this hair?"

Willow shrugged helplessly. "It was supposed to be temporary, remember? We were watching Brave the night before and Kennedy kept making jokes about giving me a makeover for some dirty Disney princess bedroom fun so Merida was bouncing around in my head and you know how magic is and… and…" Trailing off, she took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts before continuing. "And you're not really Merida. More like Merida Plus. You're older and a bit taller and prettier and improved in, uh, other ways."

Yes, Xander had noticed that. The moment he sat up in the infirmary, as a matter of fact. After all, it was hard to miss that much weight shifting on his chest, especially when there wasn't supposed to be any at all. Or how much wider his hips were, or that sitting down still felt weird because his ass seemed to arrive at its destination unexpectedly early. But rather than launch into a discussion of the choices Willow had made and how skeezy it made him feel that she'd essentially designed a jailbait sexpot body for him, Xander kept his attention firmly fixed on his hair. "And you couldn't have improved me with some straight hair? Preferably shorter straight hair? I mean, do you know how much shampoo and conditioner I'm going to go through taking care of this mane? How long it'll take me to get ready in the morning? And…" Trailing off, he frowned. Being one of the more recent additions to the platoon of Slayers he oversaw, he obviously knew the girl Willow had mentioned but not all that well. "Does Orla have a secret girly side that she's never shown me, or is being turned into a girl bringing out my inner metrosexual?"

Squeezing past Willow and entering the bathroom, Kennedy reached up and began playing with Xander's hair. "Does anyone even use the word metrosexual anymore? I mean, congrats, you put effort into your appearance. Guys as a whole set that bar pretty low, so I'm not really sure that I'd want to be bragging about exceeding it." Frowning, she grabbed a hair tie out of a basket on a nearby shelf and pulled Xander's hair into a ponytail, tying it back before reaching up to prod at the sides of his head. "Hmm. We definitely need to trim the ends down to a single length… but what do you think about an undercut? Maybe even shaving both sides down? It'd take a lot of the weight off your head and cut down on maintenance…"

"First of all, we both know that I've never really put effort into my appearance a single day in my life. Hence this whole transformation bringing something out in me because... like, I actually seem to care now for some reason. Can't attribute it to anything in me naturally, so I'm wondering where it came from. Second of all…" Xander did his best to visualize what she was proposing, drawing on mental images of some of the Slayers currently roaming the castle who also sported the style in question. "Could work. Especially since my inner Orla screams whenever I think of pulling a Sinéad O'Connor. Because while she's not too girly, she's girly enough to be offended by that idea. Thanks again for that, Willow." Turning his head as best he could with Kennedy's hands in the way, Xander eyed the various cosmetics stacked on the shelves to his right, taking mental notes as to what he did and didn't recognize, much less know how to use. "So I'm stuck like this, Willow? You're sure?"

"Pretty positive, yeah."

"And I'm guessing that bad things would happen if you tried whatever the first spell was again while daydreaming about… hell, I'll take Rapunzel over Merida if you can't get your mind off Disney's girls. Or that ice queen chick from the new movie coming out this fall. I'm actually kinda liking that second idea better, now that I think about it, because not only would Rapunzel's hair be an even bigger nightmare for me, but it's magic hair and so-"

"Um, since the spell was pretty much just me having a little chat with Hecate about turning a son into a daughter? I don't think it'd end well, no."

Slumping, Xander stared at the unfamiliar reflection in the mirror for a few seconds before perking back up. Just because Willow couldn't fix the biggest problem didn't mean she couldn't fix the smaller ones. "What about doing an aging spell? Preferably old enough to drink, but I'll take voting age if that's all you can manage?"

"Weren't you the one spearheading an investigation into Slayers and aging? Chiefly because of Buffy and Faith, but also because of some of the older girls who were Called by the spell I cast?"

Xander cringed as he met Willow's gaze in the mirror. While Buffy perhaps had an excuse given the whole death and resurrection thing that she'd been through, to say that she and Faith weren't aging well was an understatement. Not like, physically or anything. They were still beautiful and beyond the peak of normal human fitness. But they were both getting... aggressive. Careless. Sloppy. So were some of the other girls who were in their twenties.

Faith, in an uncharacteristic moment of introspection, had hypothesized that after a certain point, the Slayer Spirit felt the urge to move on to a younger and healthier host and… encouraged… its current vessel to hasten the jump. They had no way to either prove or disprove that theory, but Willow was right. If there really was something inherent to aging as a Slayer, he'd have to face it in a few years. No reason to make it an immediate problem by speeding up the process. "Fine. But since I know you can cast certain spells on me like this with no problem? You're going to be scooping out a few more brains for me in the next few days."

"Okay?"

"And when she gets back from her current mission…"

"Oh no."

"…you're the one who gets to explain all this to my girlfriend."

"Eep."