Someone has been manipulatingevents for a very long time, without anyone being any the wiser.Observe.
Spoiler warning: There aren't reallyspoilers, but a lot of things you won't understand if you haven't seen selectBuffy episodes (at the very least, 'Becoming part 1', 'Selfless' and'Showtime', and more would help). Knowledge of 'Becoming part 2' isassumed.
Disclaimer: I haven't paid for anycharacters or places, so I own none of them. Nevertheless, just as Joss hascreative control of the show, I suppose I have creative control of thisstory.
Sjornjost, 880
People in Sjornjost generally didn't like strangers. Not for any reason in particular, they just didn't like them. That is, except for Aud, who found, in strangers, the only people she could ever connect with, besides Olaf. So when this man Visslar came to town, she was the charming hostess that gave him shelter.
"Many thanks for inviting me into your home, young Aud. Most people gave me the evil eye when I attempted to seek lodging at the tavern."
"I understand, local people do not like me much either. I try talking to them about something, or try to give them a rabbit, and they always look at me in strange ways and tell me to go away. Do you want a rabbit?"
"Uhh… no, thank you. Why are there so many rabbits in this house, anyway?"
"They just breed so fast. They've started eating everything and I can't stop them. It's starting to get quite scary."
"I… see. Yes. Anyway, I believe I heard someone at the tavern mention your name."
"Really? Who?"
"I am not sure. He was a huge man, round of features and with a great red beard." Aud's eyes narrowed and her voice took a peculiar edge to it.
"What did he say?"
"He was cavorting around with a woman, long blond hair, wide hips, large…"
"Rannveig."
"Yes, that's the one. And he was saying something like 'forget Aud, for her hips are too narrow for carrying babies'. He sounded like he really liked babies. She was really quite stunning, you know."
Aud just glared.
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Ireland, 1753
Darla walked out of the alley, wiping a spot of blood from her chin. It had been fun, in this small Irish town, but the locals were becoming suspicious of her and she didn't want to arouse any more attention than was necessary. So she resolved to leave this small town and find a new residence for a while. Perhaps she would return in another hundred years or so. She still had some time before the Master expected her to return to his court. Perhaps she would explore England for a while.
She approached the coach yard. She could stay another day but if she wanted to leave tomorrow, she'd need to purchase a coach tonight. There was a man there who turned to face her.
"Can I help you, Ma'am?" There was something strange about this man. He was small, and yet he showed no concern about who she was. He must be new in town, she thought, else detached from the rumour mongering of the common folk.
"I wish to procure transport for tomorrow night." She smiled. He didn't seem at all phased by it.
"Shouldn't be a problem. Where are you headed?"
"I'll be heading east, then find a ship to take me to England."
"Yeah? Have you been to Galway? Lovely place, not far off your route you know. We've got a coach headed for Galway tomorrow, just after sunset. From there you can probably get transport to wherever you're going." Darla thought for a moment. Yes, she could spend some time in Galway before heading home. After all, she had all the time in the world, and there weren't many women who could say that and mean it.
"Thank you, young man. I believe I shall have a look around Galway, if it is as lovely as you say." Darla flashed him another smile, but he just turned away and resumed his work.
When Darla sought him out privately later that night for dinner, he was nowhere to be found, but his words stayed with her… Galway, hmm…
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England, 1996
Quentin Travers walked into his office and found, to his surprise, that there was a man sitting in his chair with his feet on the mahogany desk.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his voice dripping with as much contempt as he could manage.
"Name's Whistler," the man replied, looking at him with lidded eyes. He had an American accent that Travers couldn't place.
"Well… Whistler… what are you doing in my office?"
"Saw your new Slayer… she's good. Could be the best, if things go her way."
"And you decided to pay compliments to the source of her good fortune?" The man almost laughed.
"No, I just thought I'd warn you. She may be the best Slayer that's come along in a few hundred years. And she's going to outlive the Watcher you've sent her."
"Merrick? But he's one of the best Watchers we've got."
"One of. But when he pops off, you may want to rethink your strategy. She's not going to respond to your usual methods of training."
"What do you suggest?" This man was infuriating.
"Nothing, it's not my place. Just giving you a heads up. By the way, how's Mrs Giles' grandson doing? I hear he's a real hellcat." And with that he swung his feet off the desk, stood up and picked up his hat in one smooth motion. He put his hat on his head, adjusted it, then walked to the door. Travers thought of stopping him, but it wouldn't have done any good.
As Whistler disappeared out of the door, Travers heard
"And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a pupil that I really should get back to."
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Los Angeles, Later in 1996
Joyce Summers had had a bad week. Her daughter had been in fights, had burnt down the school gym, and, subsequently, had been expelled. Buffy had even been to a mental institution because of vampires, but apparently there was nothing wrong with her. Hank had finally moved out – though that had just been a matter of time – and she'd been forced to quit her job. So she was packing up her things, clearing her office. She'd have to move house now, away from all her friends. And she'd have to find a new school for Buffy. She sighed. It wasn't going to be easy.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the open office door. When she looked up, there was a man there, short and quite badly dressed.
"Uh, hello. Can I help you?" she asked.
"Oh, no. Actually, I thought I might be able to help you."
"Really? How so?"
"I heard you were looking for work, and there's this art gallery that could use someone like you."
"Really? Where is it?"
"It's not far, a small town just a few miles down the road. It's called Sunnydale, and it's not quite as prestigious as here, but it should be enough to get you back on your feet. Plus, I hear there's a nice high school for your daughter – she's just started, hasn't she?"
"How did you know that?"
"When you've got a job like mine, you hear things." Well, he thought, it wasn't lying. But he sure as hell wasn't going to tell her about the nasties of this world. "It'd be a good chance to start over, Joyce. I really suggest that you think about it." With that, he turned and began to walk away.
"Oh, excuse me, but I have to ask… you're not from around here are you?"
"No, I… I travel around a lot. I was recently in New York." Yes, thought Joyce, that made sense.
"Thank you," she said. Then, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"It's Whistler," he told her, then disappeared out the door. Then his head reappeared. "Well, lately it is," he amended, and vanished.
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Sunnydale, Showtime
Buffy stood before the so-called Ubervamp with no fear. She couldn't have fear. Everything she had done had led her here, to the confrontation with the greatest evil in existence. And this was where it started. Whistler smirked. He was an expert at hiding. Even the First couldn't sense him where he was secluded.
He looked at the Slayer's companions. It was true, he had manipulated events slightly, which, technically, was breaking the rules. The best part was nobody knew he had done it. At least nobody in a position to care.
The Slayer killed the monster. That was a given. Of course she would. But the battle continues, because the First does not die with its minions. Battles like this were occurring all over the world, but things would go on and on.
Bottom line is, even if you see them coming, you're not ready for the big moments. But the small moments… that's where you take control of your own destiny. That's when you find out who you really are.
The Slayer was still finding out who she was, but someday she'd know… someday, everyone would know, because of the small moments.