Title- Identical Entity
Author- Stacie
Rating- R, but probably only swearing and violence and stuff like that.
Summary- AU; They are the same person but couldn't be more different (and no, I'm not talking about Angel/Angelus)
Feedback- Wanted and needed. Send to XxAngelicVixenxX@yahoo.com or RougeVixen8705@aol.com.
Disclaimer- Do I look like an acid tripping evil genius? No. Besides, even if I *did* own them, both are screwed beyond fixing. BtVS & AtS belongs to Joss and co., there, happy now? I said it!
Spoilers- BtVS-Up to season 5, especially, 'The Gift' and AtS-season one, except Doyle never died and Wesley never went back to LA.
Distribution- LoD, Nicky's site, um, where else…? The site 'How's Forever', I lost the addie…um, KickDress-if Jenn wants it. I think that's it. Ask, and ye shall receive.
Pairings- B/A (though later on in the fic), B/Wesley (in a friendly, flirty kinda way) maybe more later…
Author's Notes- Yes, another fic. Yes, I'm still writing 'Chosen Mistake' Yes, I still have writer's block for 'Blood, Beauty. & Betrayal' and 'Beneath the Ashes'. I try to write them, but I just don't know what to do! Lol, ok. I don't want to give too much away on this fic. So…I won't. ;)
Back-story- Buffy Anne Summers died the summer of 2001 after she saved the world from the Hell-Goddess, Glory. She has been dead for more than five years. After the death of one of their most powerful Slayers, The Watcher's Council used their remaining power to play God, something you should never do. There will be consequences to their unlawful actions. Those consequences come in shape of a girl, a girl who could change the whole world.
Small Teensy Weensy AN- *…* means italics which are supposed to be flashback, or really exaggerated outbursts…
**~*~*~*~**
Identical- (of two or more things) the very same in all respects; the very same.
Entity- something existing complete in itself, by its own right; something that exists alone.
Prologue-
November 2006-
Undisclosed Location, London, England-
I have a problem. I don't know who I am. I don't have a name, an identity. I don't have a past, a family, or a home. I don't remember growing up, being a little girl. I don't remember having Mommy hug me or Daddy tell me I'll always be his baby girl. I don't remember comfy covers and fluffy stuffed animals. I don't know what it's like to have my Mommy hug me and be awash in her soft scented perfume. Or have Daddy swing me around his shoulders and finish it off with a warm hug. I don't remember little sisters grabbing my clothes, and playing dress up with me. Or having little brothers taking my Barbie's and hiding them.
But, I do know that I'm alone. That I have long blonde hair and emerald green eyes. My skin is pale and soft. But, I don't know where I belong. I don't know who I am. And, it bothers me. Everybody has an identity, why don't I? I feel nothing, just an internal cold and familiar loss. You think it'd seem unfair, that I'd be bitter that I have nothing. But, strangely, I'm not. This is all I know. Even if I hate it, it's the one thing that I do have, the knowledge that I'm supposed to be something bigger, better. But, I suppose I lied. I do have a name. I just…don't know what it is. You see, where I am, it's all white. And, no, I'm not talking about Heaven. The walls here are white, so is the floor and my clothes. Everyday, I go to what is called, 'The Lab'. They…do things to me. Tests, as they so politely call it. Sometimes they strap me down. They'll put little suction things hooked to wires all over my body and test my 'endurance'.
I'm abnormal. I can take things that a normal person cannot. I don't know why and I wish to whatever God that may be watching all of this, that this is all a very bad dream and I will soon wake up to a family and home. But, I know I won't. I never do.
There are few ways out of here. Suicide and finding the way out. I've tried the first before. I slit my wrists, but within moments, they were healed and I had to clean up the massive amounts of blood before 'they' came. 'They', being the people who run the tests on me. The people I've known ever since I first opened my eyes six years ago. No, I don't mean when I was born, I mean when I first open my bright green eyes. You see, that's another thing. I don't think I'm entirely normal either. I'm sixteen years old, but I don't remember all of my sixteen years. Only six of them. But, if I think back hard enough, I can make out vague shapes through a green liquid. I don't know what to make of all of it, so I lock it deep within the confines of my mind and never think of it again.
Footsteps.
They're coming.
Author- Stacie
Rating- R, but probably only swearing and violence and stuff like that.
Summary- AU; They are the same person but couldn't be more different (and no, I'm not talking about Angel/Angelus)
Feedback- Wanted and needed. Send to XxAngelicVixenxX@yahoo.com or RougeVixen8705@aol.com.
Disclaimer- Do I look like an acid tripping evil genius? No. Besides, even if I *did* own them, both are screwed beyond fixing. BtVS & AtS belongs to Joss and co., there, happy now? I said it!
Spoilers- BtVS-Up to season 5, especially, 'The Gift' and AtS-season one, except Doyle never died and Wesley never went back to LA.
Distribution- LoD, Nicky's site, um, where else…? The site 'How's Forever', I lost the addie…um, KickDress-if Jenn wants it. I think that's it. Ask, and ye shall receive.
Pairings- B/A (though later on in the fic), B/Wesley (in a friendly, flirty kinda way) maybe more later…
Author's Notes- Yes, another fic. Yes, I'm still writing 'Chosen Mistake' Yes, I still have writer's block for 'Blood, Beauty. & Betrayal' and 'Beneath the Ashes'. I try to write them, but I just don't know what to do! Lol, ok. I don't want to give too much away on this fic. So…I won't. ;)
Back-story- Buffy Anne Summers died the summer of 2001 after she saved the world from the Hell-Goddess, Glory. She has been dead for more than five years. After the death of one of their most powerful Slayers, The Watcher's Council used their remaining power to play God, something you should never do. There will be consequences to their unlawful actions. Those consequences come in shape of a girl, a girl who could change the whole world.
Small Teensy Weensy AN- *…* means italics which are supposed to be flashback, or really exaggerated outbursts…
**~*~*~*~**
Identical- (of two or more things) the very same in all respects; the very same.
Entity- something existing complete in itself, by its own right; something that exists alone.
Prologue-
November 2006-
Undisclosed Location, London, England-
I have a problem. I don't know who I am. I don't have a name, an identity. I don't have a past, a family, or a home. I don't remember growing up, being a little girl. I don't remember having Mommy hug me or Daddy tell me I'll always be his baby girl. I don't remember comfy covers and fluffy stuffed animals. I don't know what it's like to have my Mommy hug me and be awash in her soft scented perfume. Or have Daddy swing me around his shoulders and finish it off with a warm hug. I don't remember little sisters grabbing my clothes, and playing dress up with me. Or having little brothers taking my Barbie's and hiding them.
But, I do know that I'm alone. That I have long blonde hair and emerald green eyes. My skin is pale and soft. But, I don't know where I belong. I don't know who I am. And, it bothers me. Everybody has an identity, why don't I? I feel nothing, just an internal cold and familiar loss. You think it'd seem unfair, that I'd be bitter that I have nothing. But, strangely, I'm not. This is all I know. Even if I hate it, it's the one thing that I do have, the knowledge that I'm supposed to be something bigger, better. But, I suppose I lied. I do have a name. I just…don't know what it is. You see, where I am, it's all white. And, no, I'm not talking about Heaven. The walls here are white, so is the floor and my clothes. Everyday, I go to what is called, 'The Lab'. They…do things to me. Tests, as they so politely call it. Sometimes they strap me down. They'll put little suction things hooked to wires all over my body and test my 'endurance'.
I'm abnormal. I can take things that a normal person cannot. I don't know why and I wish to whatever God that may be watching all of this, that this is all a very bad dream and I will soon wake up to a family and home. But, I know I won't. I never do.
There are few ways out of here. Suicide and finding the way out. I've tried the first before. I slit my wrists, but within moments, they were healed and I had to clean up the massive amounts of blood before 'they' came. 'They', being the people who run the tests on me. The people I've known ever since I first opened my eyes six years ago. No, I don't mean when I was born, I mean when I first open my bright green eyes. You see, that's another thing. I don't think I'm entirely normal either. I'm sixteen years old, but I don't remember all of my sixteen years. Only six of them. But, if I think back hard enough, I can make out vague shapes through a green liquid. I don't know what to make of all of it, so I lock it deep within the confines of my mind and never think of it again.
Footsteps.
They're coming.