One moment I was smiling in the rain with my sister the next minute I was in excruciating pain that stabbed, burned and tazed every fiber of my being. My eyes couldn't see anything. My lungs couldn't take any air and my ears couldn't make out any sound.
Finally it all stopped and I was dropped down my body twitching and writhing in pain. I couldn't make out much more than just pain. Pain until there was nothing more.
Nothing really made sense. My head swam with no real help or reason to it. And I was in pain and I couldn't ever remember the three w's (Where, Why and hoW). I could barely make out who I was through the whole agony I felt. The agony and pain was immense and otherworldly, but I was alive.
That much was certain, as I had immense pain throbbing through my entire being. But the pain only assured I was alive and here. Or at least that's what the optimist in me kept trying to sell me.
I groaned and tried to open my eyes. Feeling as if I should have used pliers to break the crust in in my eyes.
"Ros!" I rolled over and popped the crust in my eye enough to make out a blurry humanoid shape. "Ros! Come on!" Clearer now, I could make out blond fashionable hair as she tried to force me up. "Come on Ros! The flight is dis-boarding!"
I nodded weakly and forced myself to stand. Ignoring everything going on in my brain and just stood and followed. Perhaps if I keep going I'll get an idea on what was going on. My brain was all fuzzy with sleep. Must be sleep and the flight that have me all discombobulated.
"I'm so pleased you didn't snore," the blond said in a playful manner.
I weakly nodded, trying not to let on how confused I am about it all. She looked familiar, I just couldn't place her yet. "How-" I croaked, shocked at how out of use my voice was. I cleared my throat, "how long was the flight?"
"Five hours," she responded, before looking at me with an upturned eyebrow, her green eyes in disbelief. "Are you really that out of it?"
I signed and ran a hand to the back of my head, feeling my chaotic curls and getting some semblance of normal out of that small act. "Yeah," I shrugged, "I guess."
She snorted and led me off to the side of the busy airline. She didn't say much as I tried to take in my surroundings, obviously a busy airport, but unfortunately I couldn't make out much more than that.
The familiar girl beside me started waving her arm, and I looked over to see an older woman, mid forties maybe with feathery blond hair walk toward us, trailing behind her was "Gwendolyn?" It sure looked like Lyn, for the most part. Her hair was pitch black, not the brown that she naturally had. And her eyes were a dark color, but as she got closer I could see that there was a violet hue to it.
"Rosalind?" the girl who looked almost like Lyn aksed.
I gave a weak nod to the girl who looked nearly identical to my sister. Her eyes widened as she looked me up and down. Then those eyes shifted to the familiar girl beside me as I took in the woman beside her.
It then dawned on me who she was. Or at least who she looked like. "Joyce?" I asked weakly. The girl who looked like Lyn looked at me with wide terror filled eyes.
The woman looked up from her cell phone and gave me a critical eye. "Yes, Ros?"
I gulped. "Um nothing."
She looked at me with confusion. "Did you have a deep sleep like your sister?" she asked with mirth.
"Oh yeah she did, Mom," the girl I realize is Buffy answered with a smirk. "She was so out of it."
Lynnie, or her look alike gave a cough, seeming to have choked. Joyce began patting her back as she seemingly caught her breath. "Sorry," she rasped out. She looked me in the eye. "Ros, come to the bathroom with me."
I nodded, "Okay."
"Alright girls I'm going to call your grandpa and let him know we landed."
"I'm gonna check out the nearest food joint," Buffy said popping on her toes some.
Joyce rolled her eyes and handed her a twenty and pointed to where she could see the restroom signs to be. Both Lyn look alike and I were too short to see much.
We followed Joyce's direction and soon were in a restroom, "Kay I do have to pee first," Lyn look alike said, quickly rushing to a stall, I followed suit, realizing five hours in a plane will do that to you.
Once hands were washed and all was well Lyn look alike became like a secret agent and got closer to me, her brownish violet eyes searching around. "Are you my sister?" she asked.
"Are you Lynnie?" she nodded, "My baby sister?"
She nodded and gave a relieved sigh. "What is the last thing you remember?"
"Rain," she nodded, "We were dancing in the summer rain and then pain, then nothing."
She nodded, "Yeah, that's what I remember too." She then looked really worried, her unusual eyes scrunched up, "Is that really Buffy Anne Summer's and her mom?"
I gave a deliberate slow nod, "It sure seems like it."
I looked back into the mirror I glanced into . "I sort of look like me," I stated finally. Rewashing my hand. "I have similar eyes to you. They have like a purple color too them." Lynnie nodded and began looking at her too.
"We are younger." She stated simply.
"Yes," I answered, "mid to late teens I guess."
"And do you remember anything about Joyce and Buffy going anywhere on a plane?" she asked, trying to flatten her silky wavy black hair.
"No." I answered simply. Undoing the bun on top of my head I realized that I still had my curly hair but it had darken to the deep dark that Lyn had. It seemed even though we weren't us, we were still very much sisters.
We nodded to each other. And made our way out in search for Joyce, we still had no idea where or how we were with them. No idea on what had happened or well anything. I think the most we both figured was that we ought to stick together.
"There you girls are!" Joyce said giving us a smile. "Come on, Buffy already blew the twenty I gave her, and she is still hungry," she gave a chuckle and smiled, leading the girls away. "I'm sure you two are hungry as well."
Lynnie shrugged and I easily followed beside her.
"Grandpa said he wouldn't mind us staying with him while I go through all of Grandma's papers and try to find your mother." She said mother in such a tone I was not familiar with. Joyce never was that mad to use that sort of tone. Even when Buffy got into all her troubles before she found out about the Slayer thing Joyce had never used such a tone.
"Oh?" I asked, not sure on what to do. Trying to figure out on what was going on.
"Yeah, Grandma had kept in sort of contact with her for the past dozen years. She had to have!" Joyce said in exasperation. "At least we may get some information on your other aunt and maybe she has some information on the-" she paused abruptly and looked to Lyn with pity in her gaze.
That was concerning, I looked to Lyn who seemed to have the same feeling.
"Either way Grandpa has agreed to let me search through it while you girls go check out the sights and sounds of where your aunts and mom grew up." She gave a smile and wrapped an arm around me and led me to a restaurant, giving me a squeeze as we went.
Buffy had ordered a lot. A lot of food. "Oh did you get some for us?" Lynnie asked.
Buffy looked up, her entire body language screaming oops. "Um…" she dragged out the syllable, looking at the whole group. "Maybe," she whispered weakly.
"Well you can share some, but me and the girls are going to go get our own orders." Joyce led us away.
We sat down and ate, and it was a very surreal sort of situation. Having a greasy pizza meal with Joyce and Buffy Summers really was something I could never really even think possible. And looking at them in real life was impossible to believe in.
Buffy didn't have perfect skin, she had a small little freckles that were awkwardly covered by not really perfectly applied foundation. She had a few hairs in her eyebrow that weren't plucked yet and her bouncy beautiful blond locks were limp and the top may have been slightly greasy. And though she was really pretty, Sarah Michelle Gellar pretty, she had blotchy dark patches hidden beneath concealer and foundation.
There was also a sadness in her eyes. Deep and dark hidden behind bubbly personality. Made me want to know what was going on with the Slayer. She had to be the slayer because Joyce had no ring on her left hand and that meant she was divorced. Which had me very confused and concerned.
None of this seemed to make much of any sense.
After we ate we all got into a cab and Aunt Joyce gave the address to what had to be our grandparents house. The drive was rather scenic and it being just after four in the afternoon the sun was beginning to set.
"And this girl's is Mystic Falls, which had a couple of pretty neat stores," she gave a grin, "I think your mom frequented it before she ran off."
Lynnie stiffened beside me but without being able to talk to her privately here there was no reason to bring attention too it. Twenty minutes later we were in a quaint town and pulling up to a really nice two storied house.
Joyce led the way and we were greeted kindly by an old man and a picture of who informed us was our Grandma. He told us to make ourselves comfortable in our old rooms. The room was rather nice with dark wood accents, a bunk bed took over one wall. It was that of a teenager's with posters and other objects that screamed teenagers.
Glancing around I noticed there were pictures in stacks around the room and half of the room seemed packed up. I leafed through the pictures seeing the girl I saw when I looked into this worlds mirrors. I was bright and smiling throughout with several other smiling people. Then I saw one that caused my heart to skip.
Lying in a white washed room, one that looked overly sanitized sat Lynnie, in a hospital gown, a forced smile on her face as she held onto a cupcake with a single candle on it. I sat beside her tears in my eye as I looked on. I held a cupcake as well but it was apparent that in the moment it was all about Lynnie.
A very sick, very pale Lynnie with deep purple bags underneath her eyes.
"Lynnie," I whispered, looking up from the scary picture to find Lynnie sitting on the bottom bunk reading a journal tears streaming down her face. She looked up to me and I could see there was genuine fear in her eye. "How bad?" I asked, leaping to guess that the journal in her hand held some information on the disturbing photograph.
"Bad." She whispered, wiping her eyes, "I think I'm dying."