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Little Red Riding Hood.

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Little Red Riding Hood.

By Steeleye.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Buffyverse or the traditional tale of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’. I write these stories for fun not profit.

Crossover: Little Red Riding Hood.

Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation; Written in glorious English-English.

Timeline: Post S7 for BtVS (no season 8 comics), early 1800’s for Little Red Riding Hood.

Words: 3800+.

Warnings: Minor Femslash.

Summary: “Alright already,” sighed the wolf as he climbed out of Granny’s bed, “I think I got the message that you’d seen through my cunning disguise when we got to; ‘Granny, what unsightly facial hair you’ve got’.”


Kissing Willow lightly on the lips, Kennedy stood back and straightened her girlfriend’s brand new red cloak.

“Now, have you got everything?” she asked, “Basket?”

“Check,” Willow held up the basket in her right hand.

“Assorted goodies?”

“Check,” Willow lifted up the pristine white cloth that covered the contents of the basket to reveal pies, preserved fruits and candies.

“Horse pistol?”

“Check,” this time Willow pulled forth an enormous flintlock pistol from her basket and showed it to Kennedy.

“Ooh,” Kennedy’s head tilted to one side as she looked longingly at her girlfriend, “you look so cute I could eat you right up, I wish I could come with.”

Willow did indeed look cute dressed in her afore mentioned red cloak and what could only be described as ‘traditional German barmaid costume’, very much like the outfit that Kennedy was wearing. Kennedy stepped forward and slipped her spare arm around Willow’s waist.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she sighed.

“I know sweetie,” Willow agreed sadly, “but, like someone has to keep an eye on Granny…”

“And I’ve got to clear out the trolls from under the bridge,” Kennedy rolled her eyes and sighed, “again. If I don’t they’ll be eating all the Billy Goats Gruff and you know where that’ll lead?”

Willow pursed her lips and nodded her head knowingly.

“Okay,” Kennedy sighed once more as she let go of Willow, “you go straight to Granny’s, make sure the old bat is alright, then come straight home, okay?”

Again Willow nodded her head, Kennedy did fuss so.

“No stopping to talk to any nasty woodsmen however big their choppers might be.”

This time Willow solemnly shook her head; but it was nice to be fused over it made her feel loved and wanted.

“And you be careful with those trolls,” Willow reminded her partner, “I don’t want to come home to find you’ve been squished or something.”

The two young women kissed again; as they parted Herr Brötchen, the baker, walked by and tipped his feather trimmed hat to them.

“Good afternoon, Fräulein Willow, Fräulein Kennedy,” the baker called happily.

“Good afternoon, Herr Brötchen,” chorused the girls, it had been a bit of a surprise to them when they’d arrived in Waldstadt that no one thought it odd that two young women would want to live together like a married couple.

“Time to go,” Willow reluctantly let go of Kennedy’s hand, whoever’d said ‘parting was such sweet sorrow’ had obviously never been truly in love.

Waving over her shoulder Willow skipped along the cobbled street towards the dark forbidding woods. Her shiny black shoes making a clip-clipping sound as she left Kennedy to stand alone outside their cute little black and white house. Watching Willow skip off down the street, Kennedy sighed longingly and hoped that she wouldn’t be home too late tonight.

“Right!” the word came out in a rush of air as she cracked her knuckles, “Let’s deal with those pesky trolls!”


Turning onto a track, Willow soon left the cobbled road behind her; she whistled a happy tune as she walked along the forest path with not a care in the world. After all wasn’t she the most powerful witch in all Bavaria? If her magic didn’t work a bullet between the eyes usually did the trick. Of course if she did happen to miss she’d still be able to beat any attacker to death with the heavy pistol. Not that she expected to be attacked; word got ‘round that you didn’t attack the red haired girl from Waldstadt or her dark haired friend. If you did, the chances that you’d live long enough to regret it were minimal.


It had all started one night after Sunnydale did its nosedive into hell. The survivors had driven the school bus to LA, where Kennedy had booked them into a rather stylish (and expensive) hotel and then arranged for medical help for the injured. Willow had known Kennedy’s folks were rich, but she’d not realised just how rich until Kennedy had organised a shopping trip for everyone to buy new clothes. When Willow had seen the size of the bill she’d asked Kennedy if she could afford it (it was several tens of thousands of dollars), Kennedy had just shrugged and handed the store manager her credit card.

Later that night, Willow having climbed into bed with Kennedy and after a particularly energetic bout of lovemaking the couple had fallen asleep. They awoke the following morning to find themselves in a tavern in a fairytale fantasy version of Bavaria some time at the beginning of the nineteenth century. After several failed attempts at getting home, Willow had answered a job advertisement for the post of ‘Town Witch’ in the little market town of Waldstadt. After showing the town’s people and the mayor her powers and explaining how she wasn’t evil and that Kennedy was a slayer they’d both been employed immediately. The job had come with a house in the middle of town, an income for the both of them plus a black and white cat.

To be honest Willow had never been happier. The job of Town Witch entailed not only protecting the town from the world’s more evil elements. There was also a certain amount of social and public health work; both Kennedy and Willow dreaded the first birth they’d have to attend but they were sure they’d muddle through somehow. People here were generally strong and healthy and they’d been having babies for years without Willow’s midwifery skills.


The track slowly shrank until it was little more than a narrow path. Not wanting to get her shinny black shoes or her white stockings muddy, Willow carefully stepped around any puddles that she found. It was during one of these diversions that a voice called out to her from under the dark brooding trees.

“Hello, little girl,” the voice called suavely.

“Oh my!” Willow’s heart gave a little jump as she turned to face the voice, “H-hello Mr Wolf,” she answered uncertainly, “you are a wolf aren’t you? I ask because its like daylight and,” she did a quick mental calculation, “it’s still ten days to the full moon.”

“Oh yes, little girl,” the wolf stepped out of the shadows, “I most certainly am…a woooooooolf!” he howled.

Willow felt inclined to argue with the creature; generally speaking wolves didn’t talk, stand on their hind legs or wear velvet smoking jackets and silk cravats nor did they normally smoke cigarettes from long black holders.

“That’ll kill you, you know?” Willow nodded towards the cigarette as her hand slid into her basket and closed on the comforting bulk of her flintlock pistol, “Can I help you Mr Wolf? Tell you the time maybe?”

“Maybe,” the wolf leaned insolently against a tree, “you could start by telling me your name, little girl.”

This had gone far enough thought Willow, what had the world come to when a powerful witch couldn’t walk through the forest without being waylaid by talking wolves?

“I’m Willow the Red…” Willow’s voice was full of menace.

“Oh, how scary,” began the wolf only to be cut off by Willow as she drew herself up to her full height.

"SHUT UP!” Willow cried, “I'm talking! Don't interrupt me! Insignificant wolf. I am Willow the Red. I am death. If you dare defy me, I will call down my fury and exact more vengeance than you’ve seen in a month of Sundays, I’ll make your worst fears come true. Okay?" Willow paused to take a breath, “And another thing, my girlfriend’s a slayer so you better watch out!”

“Girlfriend?” the wolf suddenly sounded interested.

“Yeah,” Willow replied firmly, “what of it?”

“Nothing,” the wolf shrugged nonchalantly, “it’s just, I know this guy who does woodcuts, all very tasteful and artistic you know? I was just wondering if your girlfriend and you would like to pose for…AGH!”

A tiny bolt of lightening sprang from Willow’s finger tip and hit the wolf on the end of his nose.

“There’s no need for that!” came the wolf’s muffled voice as he clutched the end of his nose with his paws, “I was just asking…”

“EWW!” squeaked Willow readying another lightning bolt, “Be gone vile cur!” she fired off another lighting bolt as the wolf turned tail and ran off between the trees, “PERVERT!” she yelled after him.

Regaining her composure Willow stood for a moment and straightened her skirt and apron. Glancing around she found that she’d strayed into a little clearing that was full of pretty forest flowers.

“Oh goody!” she clapped her hands happily together; “Granny’ll like some flowers.”

Busily, Willow hurried to pick a bunch before starting on her way again.


Hiding behind a tree the wolf watched as Willow picked her flowers, he wondered were the little witch was going this deep in the forest. The answer struck him almost immediately she must be going to visit Granny, he smiled wolfishly.

“So, you’re off to see Granny?” he said to himself quietly, “Granny has such interesting things,” mused the wolf, “but the poor old lady’s eyesight isn’t what it was,” he chuckled nastily deep in his throat. “If a wolf were to find his way into her house…she’d like as not, not notice…” the wolf laughed evilly, “until it’s too late that is!”

Turning away the wolf ran quickly through the forest towards Granny’s house. He’d get there long before the little red haired witch did. He could be waiting for her when she arrived and there was so much he wanted to do with Willow the Red before supper.


Jumping into the river Kennedy dragged the first troll out from under the bridge. Contrary to popular belief trolls aren’t made of stone, at least the ones that lived under bridges weren’t. Kennedy punched the troll smartly on the nose.

“Wot you do tha’ fo’?” groaned the troll as he staggered away from the slayer.

“Illegal goat tolls!” replied Kennedy as she chopped the troll across the throat with the edge of her hand.

A cheer rose from the small crowd of town’s people who’d come to watch the fun. Wading through the waist deep water Kennedy grabbed the choking troll by the ears and pushed his head under water. As the bubbles rose all around her and the troll’s struggles got weaker, Kennedy wondered if Willow was having as much fun.


“Fräulein Kennedy! Fräulein Kennedy!”

Holding the last troll in a headlock, Kennedy looked up to see, Herr Hauswirt the tavern keeper and Fräu Peitsche the town dominatrix, standing on the river bank.

“What’s up?” Kennedy struggled to keep hold of the troll.

“Fräulein Kennedy,” wailed Herr Hauswirt, “young Johann the shepherd boy ran to my house saying he's seen a wolf!”

“Wolf?” Kennedy thrust the troll’s head under water, “Johann?

The troll’s might was unequal to the slayer’s strength and he went struggling and gurgling to a watery grave.

“Isn’t he the boy who cries ‘Wolf’ all the time?” after watching the troll’s corpse float down the river for a moment, Kennedy started to climb up onto the riverbank, “Why should I believe him now?”

Herr Hauswirt explained about the wolf’s attire.

“Hmm,” Kennedy stood dripping on the riverbank, “that does sound a little unusual.”

“If he is lying,” Fräu Peitsche placed one hand on her incredibly narrow waist and slapped her riding crop against her thigh boot with the other, “you can always hand him over to me for…punishment.”

“Look,” Kennedy glanced down at her wet and muddy clothes, “I’m going to get changed, I can’t chase wolves dressed like this. Herr Hauswirt, please raise an ‘angry mob’ just in case and meet me outside my house in half an hour. Fräu Peitsche, bring me the boy, we’ll question him together.”


Flowers in one hand basket in the other Willow skipped up to Granny’s door, she looked around at the garden. Every couple of weeks or so a party of local children, with a responsible adult would make their way through the woods and tidy up Granny’s garden and plant new flowers. Reaching up to knock on the door Willow felt dizzy for a second.

“Oh, my!” she gasped as she swayed a little and put her hand to her forehead.

Shaking off the feeling, she reached up once more and knocked loudly, the door swung open under her hand. This wasn’t unusual, she was continuously telling Granny she needed to lock her doors properly. There were unpleasant elements (like talking wolves) that roamed the forest; she needed to be more careful and ask callers for their ID.

“Granny?” Willow called as she walked into the hall and through into the kitchen; she put down her basket, there was still no answer. Willow filled an old jug with water and arranged the wild flowers she’d picked and placed them on the kitchen table.

“Granny,” Willow called again, “its Fräulein Willow.”

As she walked around the house Willow ran a finger over the furniture checking for dust. Two or three times a week one of the Hausfraus from the village would come and clean the cottage and check on Granny. Willow’s visit was more to ensure that everything was being done properly, plus Willow enjoyed her little chats with Granny.

Still Granny hadn’t answered Willow’s call, she scratched her head; thinking that Granny was having a nap she made her way to Granny’s bedroom.

“Granny?” Willow knocked on the bedroom door as she opened it, “Are you asleep?”

Pushing the door open and stepping into the room Willow stopped and watched the figure that looked at her from Granny’s bed.

“Oh Granny!” gasped Willow, “What big ears you’ve got!”


By the time Kennedy had changed and run back down stairs, Fräu Peitsche, had the youth, Johann tied spread eagled across her kitchen table. The woman idly toyed with her riding crop in one hand; she held a cigarette in a long holder in the other. Kennedy frowned, she didn’t really approve of people smoking in her house.

“Well?” Kennedy straightened her freshly starched apron and checked there was a dagger in the pocket.

“The boy has confessed,” Fräu Peitsche announced haughtily, “everyone confesses…eventually.”

“Confessed?” Kennedy walked across the room to examine Johann’s rosy red butt, “So he was lying…again!”

“No!” sobbed the youth, “Please Fräulein Kennedy, I’m telling the truth!”

“That is correct,” Fräu Peitsche sighed sadly, “he is telling the truth…this time.”

“This wolf was heading for Granny’s house?” Kennedy grabbed Fräu Peitsche’s riding crop and waved it under the youth’s nose.”

“Yes Fräulein,” cried the teenager, “it’s true, I swear it!”

“Oh no!” gasped Kennedy, “Willow!”

Leaving Johann to the tender ministrations of Fräu Peitsche, Kennedy dashed out of her front door and almost collided with the ‘Angry Mob’ formed at her order by Herr Hauswirt. The ‘Angry Mob’ stood around chatting amiably with their pitch forks and torches stacked neatly against the wall of Kennedy and Willow’s house.

“Herr Hauswirt!” cried Kennedy, “Mob!” she smiled to the assembled town’s people. “We must go, there is a wolf and he’s heading for Granny’s house.

With cries of alarm the ‘Mob’ reached for their weapons and started to gesticulate and try out a few angry cries. Kennedy didn’t really need the help of an Angry Mob, even the rather good natured one that had assembled outside her house. She could deal with most things by herself; but it was traditional and it encouraged community spirit.

“To the woods!” she pointed in the general direction of the forest and started to trot off followed by the mob. The mob waved their pitch forks and shook their unlit torches. A town ordinance prohibited the lighting of torches within the town boundary unless there was good cause (like vampires, werewolves or mad scientists). After all, houses made mostly of wood and roofed with thatch burnt all too easily. One carelessly waved torch could cause no end of damage.


“Alright already,” sighed the wolf as he climbed out of Granny’s bed, “I think I got the message that you’d seen through my cunning disguise when we got to; ‘Granny, what unsightly facial hair you’ve got’.”

“Yeah, okay,” Willow studied the wolf, one hand resting on her hip while the other played with her braided hair, “now what have you done with granny.”

“Oh,” the wolf grinned wolfishly, “yeah,” a clawed finger picked something from between his teeth, “she was a bit old and tough but she satisfied my hunger…”

In the blink of an eye, or so it seemed to Willow, the wolf had crossed the room and had grabbed her around the waist, he leered into her face making her bend over backwards to avoid his fetid breath.

“…for some things,” the wolf’s red tongue flashed out and licked the tip of Willow’s nose.

“EEEK!” squeaked Willow, she managed to struggle out of the wolf’s grasp, this guy was sooo dead.

Raising her arm to send a lightening bolt that would reduce the wolf to a grease spot; Willow looked on in horror as nothing happened and the wolf just laughed at her.

“Ha-ha!” chortled the wolf, “Your magic won’t work in here, little witch. Granny had such interesting things didn’t you know?”

Again Willow tried to cast a spell, once again nothing happened. The wolf advanced across the room as she backed towards the door. The wolf pulled off Granny’s nightgown and nightcap.

“Oh my!” gasped Willow as she saw what the wolf had between his legs, “What a big…well the less said about that the better!”

“Yes, little red,” the wolf growled low in his throat, “we’re going to have so much fun before I EAT YOU!” The wolf paused for a moment thinking he should clarify his previous comment, “That’s ‘eat you’ in a purely gastronomic way.”

The wolf pounced, with a squeal Willow dived through the open bedroom door and slammed it shut; she heard the wolf crash into the other side. Holding the door closed by leaning on it, Willow screamed in terror as the wolf’s claws ripped through the wood as he started to tear the door apart. Screaming again she ran down the short corridor and out into the little hallway. Reasoning that if she could get outside she’d be able to use her magic again; then let the wolf beware!

Running for the door Willow could feel the wolf’s hot breath on the back of her neck. Crashing into the front door Willow’s fingers searched desperately for the handle. A wave of relief swept over her as her hand found the doorknob, it twisted under her hand, she threw her body against the door and…

“HA!” the Wolf stood a few feet behind her as Willow turned to face it, “OOOPS!” he smiled exposing long sharp teeth, “I forgot to say…all the doors and windows are locked.”

He took a step towards Willow, drool dripped from his jaws and other less wholesome liquids oozed from at least one other of the wolf’s appendages.

“Y-you d-do know I-I’m like g-gay, don’t y-you?” stammered Willow.

Once more the wolf lunged at Willow. This time she managed to dodge under his outstretched arms. Screaming she ran into the kitchen and flung herself at the backdoor only to find that it too was locked.

“OOOOH!” wailed Willow as she cast terrified eyes around the kitchen looking for a weapon.

Her eyes fell on her basket, in two steps she was across the floor; she picked up the basket and desperately started to shake the contents out onto the table. The enormous horse pistol landed with a heavy clunk on the table top. Listening to the ominous sound of the wolf’s approaching footsteps; Willow tried to remember what Kennedy had taught her about the workings of the weapon.

Pulling the flint back to half cock she opened the priming pan to check the priming powder was still in place. Sighing with relief she closed the priming pan and using both thumbs pulled the flint back to full cock. Looking up she saw the wolf standing in the doorway laughing at her.

Holding up the pistol in both hands she aimed at the wolf, he seemed to find the concept of being shot at close range incredible amusing. Closing both her eyes and turning her head away slightly, Willow pulled the trigger. For an awful moment she thought the pistol had miss-fired. There was a ‘PHUT!’ as the priming powder ignited followed an instant later by a tremendous ‘BANG!’ as the main charge exploded.

After being hurled across the room, Willow opened her eyes to find herself lying on the floor with her back resting against the back door. The kitchen seemed to be full of white powder smoke and her ears rang from the sound of the pistol’s report; but of the wolf there was no sigh.

Climbing unsteadily to her feet, Willow staggered over to the table; there was a loud ‘CLUNK!’ as she dropped the pistol onto the wooden floor. There lying on the floor in a rapidly expanding pool of blood lay the wolf with a neat round hole drilled between his eyes. Willow threw up just as Kennedy reduced the front door to splinters.


The Mob had dragged the wolf’s body out of the cottage and were busily building a bonfire as Kennedy fussed over Willow. They sat on a bench in the back garden, Kennedy rubbing Willow’s back as she sat with her head between her knees and threw up again.

“Great shot,” Kennedy congratulated her lover, only realising after she’d spoken that it might not have been the best thing to say.

Willow groaned; Kennedy stopped rubbing, she pulled her girlfriend upright and wrapped her arms around her shoulders and let Willow rest her head on her shoulder.

“I had my eyes shut,” Willow mumbled.

“That was even better!” Kennedy replied brightly, “Even I mightn’t been able to hit him with my eyes closed.”

“Okay,” Willow raised her head and gave Kennedy a lopsided smile, “Enough with the trying to make me feel better.”

“But I like trying to make you feel better,” complained Kennedy, “besides, making you feel good makes me feel good.”

“Selfish brat,” Willow kissed Kennedy on the lips.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Kennedy grinned as she helped Willow to her feet.

They headed for home passed the burning body of the wolf and the happy singing of the Mob as they danced around the fire. As the two women walked home a thought came to Kennedy’s mind, she looked over at Willow who was holding her hand.

“Hey,” she frowned, “what is it with you and wolves?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Willow despondently, she turned to smile sadly at Kennedy, “it could be worse you know?”

“It could?”

“Yeah,” Willow nodded her head, “it could be frogs…or…or…”

“Elephants?” suggested Kennedy with a giggle.

“Yeah,” agreed Willow solemnly, “that’d be really bad.”

After getting home, Kennedy released Johann from Fräu Peitsche’s clutches and the two women had an early night after such an eventful day. Later and perhaps because of much passionate love making, they lived happily ever after.

The End.