A/N: Okay, this takes place after season seven of Buffy, with one slight AU-
ish change. Anya didn't die.
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The journal of Isara Rosenberg
Monday the seventeenth of April
Hi. Journal type thing. I'm not really sure how to start, this isn't generally a 'me' type thing. It's very much a 'Mom' type thing. Only, this would be all electronic if it was to do with Mom.
Okay, jumping way ahead. That's if, you know, if people actually want story of my life and all. See, I don't know how this thing goes. See above, 'Mom' type thing. Not me. She said something about how it'd be training. Training for what? Mom makes much with the cryptic all the time. Always annoying when I was a kid. Particularly when she'd be like, super good at hiding presents at birthdays and Sabbats, and whatever.
I get sidetracked a lot. Sue me.
I'm Isara Tara Rosenberg. Commonly known as Izzy by all and sundry. I am exactly sixteen years old. Well, not exactly, as Mom likes to go into the depths of how much birth, and labour hurts, and how I wasn't born until eight thirteen pm. But I take it as I had to put up with Mom for fifteen years exactly, as my comprehension of how weird she is began just before my first birthday. So my starting festival proceedings a few hours early can add up to several days worth of pre-first birthday understanding.
Mom also says I talk too much. It comes from being able to communicate in many languages, and also several dead ones. I was the only student in Junior High who could actually read Dante's Inferno in the original medieval Italian. Blame my ever-present Uncle Giles for that. I think he's supposed to have family somewhere, but he never seems to go home. Home being the nation of tea drinkers, scones and tweed.
That's a really tired joke Mom and Mom's friends are always on at Giles about. I don't get it. Uncle Giles doesn't even wear tweed! Okay, he does this thing with his glasses when he's pretending he can't hear you, but that's pretty much just a Giles thing rather than an English thing.
I think.
I suppose I should kinda explain why Giles has all these big time old languages, and all kinds of freaky knowledge. And plus, why I celebrate Winter Equinox rather than Christmas. Or Hanukkah. Mom maintains that if I had showed any leanings towards normality, she would have made me Jewish. Nice to know even my mother thinks I'm weird. Coming from a woman whose goddaughter likes to kill things with large shiny metal objects, it really gives meaning to, 'Takes one to know one.'
I said I got sidetracked.
Well, here's the explanation. Mom is a witch. Her best friend, and her goddaughter are Slayers. And Giles, he's one of these weird English guys who stood around discussing slayers while slayers did the- well, slaying. Bottom line is, all the evil and nasty things that everyone thinks are fictional, think again. Vampires in particular, no joke. Angel, this big broody vamp who is supposedly fighting the good fight in L.A (personally, I think he's either gay, or a male model, except, he wouldn't really make it) is all soul-happy. Again, big explanation, but reducing it, vampires lose their souls. Souls fly off to heaven, the vampire is a demon in a corpse. Only, Angel's soul got brought back, and shoved in him, and now he's allowed to go around looking all droopy cuz he can't have sex. (Mom so thinks I don't know this)
But anyway. Few years (pre-Lena time) back, Buffy did this whole thing where Sunnydale's hellmouth opened up, and big evil tried to kick the crap out of her. And then Mom did a spell, calling all the Slayers. Which means little kids from like, Timbuktu got Called, which kinda freaks me out, but Mom mutters something about young, irrational, and desperate at this point, generally.
And they all moved to Cleveland. And Mom adopted me. Being gay and all, she didn't really have the choice of sleeping with some random guy. I do kinda have another mother, but she died years before I was around. Mom really loved her, her eyes go all soft when she talks about her, and it's the reason why my middle name is 'Tara'. Plus, 'Isara' is a goddess name, which Tara used to pray to sometimes, so, my names are like major nostalgia for Mom.
So skip forward fifteen years, and you hit round now. I grew up here on Johnson Avenue, next door to Buffy, Mom's friend, and Buffy's sister, Dawn, who moved away when she went to college, then came back with her kids. Xander, Mom's best friend since she was little lives the other side, with his wife, Anya, and their kids, Libby (Liberty) and Lin (Lincoln). Libby's seven, and Anya seems to think that me living near by means unlimited babysitting. For like, minimum wage. From one of the biggest capitalists in our country, it's underhanded.
Lin and I go to the local high school, and Libby goes to a prep school, (Anya's obsession with money) and Dawn's kids go to the elementary and junior high.
So that's pretty much me. Izzy Rosenberg. Now I'm gonna go bug Mom for driving lessons, having wasted several pages of a notebook I could've used for school. Mom will be happy.
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A/N: This first chapter is in diary form. If you particularly like it, then review, and tell me so. I'm probably gonna change to normal third person speak after this.
REVIEW!
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The journal of Isara Rosenberg
Monday the seventeenth of April
Hi. Journal type thing. I'm not really sure how to start, this isn't generally a 'me' type thing. It's very much a 'Mom' type thing. Only, this would be all electronic if it was to do with Mom.
Okay, jumping way ahead. That's if, you know, if people actually want story of my life and all. See, I don't know how this thing goes. See above, 'Mom' type thing. Not me. She said something about how it'd be training. Training for what? Mom makes much with the cryptic all the time. Always annoying when I was a kid. Particularly when she'd be like, super good at hiding presents at birthdays and Sabbats, and whatever.
I get sidetracked a lot. Sue me.
I'm Isara Tara Rosenberg. Commonly known as Izzy by all and sundry. I am exactly sixteen years old. Well, not exactly, as Mom likes to go into the depths of how much birth, and labour hurts, and how I wasn't born until eight thirteen pm. But I take it as I had to put up with Mom for fifteen years exactly, as my comprehension of how weird she is began just before my first birthday. So my starting festival proceedings a few hours early can add up to several days worth of pre-first birthday understanding.
Mom also says I talk too much. It comes from being able to communicate in many languages, and also several dead ones. I was the only student in Junior High who could actually read Dante's Inferno in the original medieval Italian. Blame my ever-present Uncle Giles for that. I think he's supposed to have family somewhere, but he never seems to go home. Home being the nation of tea drinkers, scones and tweed.
That's a really tired joke Mom and Mom's friends are always on at Giles about. I don't get it. Uncle Giles doesn't even wear tweed! Okay, he does this thing with his glasses when he's pretending he can't hear you, but that's pretty much just a Giles thing rather than an English thing.
I think.
I suppose I should kinda explain why Giles has all these big time old languages, and all kinds of freaky knowledge. And plus, why I celebrate Winter Equinox rather than Christmas. Or Hanukkah. Mom maintains that if I had showed any leanings towards normality, she would have made me Jewish. Nice to know even my mother thinks I'm weird. Coming from a woman whose goddaughter likes to kill things with large shiny metal objects, it really gives meaning to, 'Takes one to know one.'
I said I got sidetracked.
Well, here's the explanation. Mom is a witch. Her best friend, and her goddaughter are Slayers. And Giles, he's one of these weird English guys who stood around discussing slayers while slayers did the- well, slaying. Bottom line is, all the evil and nasty things that everyone thinks are fictional, think again. Vampires in particular, no joke. Angel, this big broody vamp who is supposedly fighting the good fight in L.A (personally, I think he's either gay, or a male model, except, he wouldn't really make it) is all soul-happy. Again, big explanation, but reducing it, vampires lose their souls. Souls fly off to heaven, the vampire is a demon in a corpse. Only, Angel's soul got brought back, and shoved in him, and now he's allowed to go around looking all droopy cuz he can't have sex. (Mom so thinks I don't know this)
But anyway. Few years (pre-Lena time) back, Buffy did this whole thing where Sunnydale's hellmouth opened up, and big evil tried to kick the crap out of her. And then Mom did a spell, calling all the Slayers. Which means little kids from like, Timbuktu got Called, which kinda freaks me out, but Mom mutters something about young, irrational, and desperate at this point, generally.
And they all moved to Cleveland. And Mom adopted me. Being gay and all, she didn't really have the choice of sleeping with some random guy. I do kinda have another mother, but she died years before I was around. Mom really loved her, her eyes go all soft when she talks about her, and it's the reason why my middle name is 'Tara'. Plus, 'Isara' is a goddess name, which Tara used to pray to sometimes, so, my names are like major nostalgia for Mom.
So skip forward fifteen years, and you hit round now. I grew up here on Johnson Avenue, next door to Buffy, Mom's friend, and Buffy's sister, Dawn, who moved away when she went to college, then came back with her kids. Xander, Mom's best friend since she was little lives the other side, with his wife, Anya, and their kids, Libby (Liberty) and Lin (Lincoln). Libby's seven, and Anya seems to think that me living near by means unlimited babysitting. For like, minimum wage. From one of the biggest capitalists in our country, it's underhanded.
Lin and I go to the local high school, and Libby goes to a prep school, (Anya's obsession with money) and Dawn's kids go to the elementary and junior high.
So that's pretty much me. Izzy Rosenberg. Now I'm gonna go bug Mom for driving lessons, having wasted several pages of a notebook I could've used for school. Mom will be happy.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A/N: This first chapter is in diary form. If you particularly like it, then review, and tell me so. I'm probably gonna change to normal third person speak after this.
REVIEW!