Title: Fallout

Author: Runewolf (Runewolf@writeme.com)

Rated: PG15, bad language

Pairing: Anya/Sirius

Genre: BtVS (Season 7)/HP: post OOP crossover. With a Stargate reference thrown in.

Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things

HP belong to JK Rowling, et al. All things Stargate belong to whoever owns them. Trust me, this isn't for profit.

Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth. Otherwise, please ask with URL, so I know where to go or direct.



*Sunnydale, Magic box*

Anya glared determinedly at the box. It was wooden. It was taking up valuable storage space. It did not state its contents. Instead, all it had was a scrawled note. "Do not open. I mean it. R. Giles."

So Anya did the only responsible thing for a merchant in her position. She began to open it. She wasn't stupid enough to put down "wooden box" on her inventory list. If her store burned down tomorrow, and all that survived was the inventory list, she'd get squat from the insurers for a wooden box marked "do not open."

Wait... Anya paused. That wasn't Giles' signature. The box label was panicking. It was a bad day. Here it had been, minding its own business, on its box, as it had for, well, ever. Then a person comes along and looks at it. Ok. People do that. In response, it generated an appropriate warning label with a signature of authority. But she kept going.

So it generated a new label. "Do not open. Or else. D'Hoffryn." Anya glared at the label. Boxes in HER basement were none of D'Hoffryn's concern. She ripped the label off the box and kept opening. The label fluttered to the ground and Anya missed the label's last, valiant effort. "Do not open. Violation of this edict will result in fines. We took down Capone, we can get you. Internal Revenue Service."

*Basement, Ministry of Magic*

Sirius Black staggered back and fell through the Archway of Forever. It was a poetic name for a archway. The artifact had been unearthed at a dig in Egypt. There was some speculation that the name had muggle culture references. The discoverer, a muggleborn research wizard had taken to standing it front of it and muttering "all of these histories and more I will open to you". Then he had stepped through. And never came back. The surviving members of the research team had decided to let the name stand. They didn't know the reason behind the name, but.... he never came back. Ever. So he was "forever" gone.

Unbeknownst to his compatriots, Research Wizard 1st Class Arnelius Wilkins had arrived on the other side of the archway in perfect health. In a nice, clean reality safely in the past so no nasty bioengineered viruses existed yet. He promptly locked down the setting on the dimension travelling device so that it was honed on his home dimension and began to explore. It was clean. Bit dusty, but clean. But the hellmouth... All that power.... why in the wrong hands it would be just terrible. Someone responsible should watch it. Of course, watching is best accomplished from high places. So he made himself mayor and decided that, for the greater good he should make sure that he wasn't disturbed. So he boxed up his nifty-difty-portal-to-the-archway-of-forever and enspelled it so that anyone who tried to step through his end squashed themselves on the box and got randomly thrown into the quantum ether.... Really a pity, but for the greater good. This action is of historical interest as it marked the exact moment that the Hellmouth corrupted Wilkins and started him on the long path towards a sunny graduation day in June. But that is another story. We're more concerned with Black.

Sirius Black had the fortune of falling through the archway AFTER Anya had unboxed it. There was a feeling of falling a great deal, then ending up on the floor. But this wasn't the floor of the Ministry of Magic. He appeared to be in a store room. Kneeling beside him was a woman. A beautiful, foxy woman.

"Are you alright? You fell out of my mirror." Black allowed himself to be assisted to his feet and guided to a small table.

Several hours and a pot of tea (from the secret British tea hoard of Rupert Giles, which was also labeled, "Do not touch"), Sirius had poured out it all. Azkaban. The deaths of Lily and James. Being cooped up in that house. His mother's portrait. And the last season of the Cannons. So close to the cup. The shop owner, nodded kindly and listened to him with compassion and grace.

"I don't really know what to say," her voice was quite kindly. "My mirror seems to be a one-way door. I'll contact my business... " her voice was briefly strained, "partner, he might know of something to do."

"You're most kind." Sirius' voice slurred slightly. The revelation that the arch might have dumped in another world had merited the opening of Giles' emergency single malt scotch. "Its all.... its just.... " Anya nodded encouragingly. "THIS ISN'T THE WAY THAT THINGS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE, DAMMIT!!"

She smiled slightly. "I know how you feel. I got jilted. Life sucks." She paused, "Except for sex, of course."

"SEX? I was stuck in prison for ten years." Sirius paced the room. "I just never imagined it would turn out like this. And its ALL because of Voldemort. I HATE him."

"Really?" Anya's voice had gone soft.

"Yeah. I do. Bastard had no idea what it feels like to those he's wronged. Him and his deatheater minions. I hate them all and they DESERVE it. They deserve anything that could happen to them."

Anya leaned forward slightly. "What would you wish on them, if you could, that is."

Sirius smiled wolfishly. "I'd want them to suffer. As me and mine have suffered. To know what it is like for everyone you love is dead or out of your reach. To be stuck helplessly watching as they struggle. To care, ever so desperately, knowing that your enemy is a cold, dark, evil bastard that should burn in torment forever." Anya's eyes gleamed in the darkening room. "I want my people to be happy and his miserable. I want him to have to have suffered as I have. I just wish.... " Anya tensed. "I wish that that was the way it was. The way it had always been."

"WISH GRANTED."

Sirius Black gazed into the demonic face that his new "friend" the shop-keeper wore and remembered one of the guidelines that his Dark Arts instructors had provided.

When you're dealing with people from alternate dimensions, don't eat or drink their food, don't promise anything or take gifts and don't ever ever EVER make wishes. It had actually applied to elves, but hey, had to give a guy points for remembering it, huh? Oh? RIGHT. You only get points if you remember the rule BEFORE you screw it up.

END FALLOUT