Chapter 2: Welcome to Grand Central

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Grand Central

Time indeterminable

Parallel 000

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Your name is Faith Winters, at least that is what they tell you, and a moment ago you were about die at the hands of a man you once called a friend. Or at least you think you did. Your memories are hazy, always have been. For many years you have been in search of your past and the people who took it from you. When you met the man called Victor Creed you thought you might have found a clue. Only Victor was not interested in providing clues and proceeded to tear out your throat.

Or he would have done so if someone hadn't stepped in to save your ass.

"Not that I'm not grateful," you tell the figure walking by your side, your voice holding very little in the way of gratitude and quite a bit of impatience, "but now that you've got me here, would you mind giving me a bit more than just 'come with me or die'? I mean, who are you? Where are we? Why did you save me?"

The figure by your side looks a bit like Willow Rosenburg, a girl you met recently during your brief stay in a town called Sunnydale. She was the best friend of that other Slayer, Buffy Summers, and you still can't quite understand why there are two of you. Everyone assumed that it happened when Buffy died briefly about a year earlier, but recent revelations regarding your past have rendered that explanation false.

You still remember very clearly how weird it was to see your own face in a photograph from 1942.

Pushing your thoughts back on track you keep looking at the Willow look-alike. You haven't had the chance to really get to know the red-headed girl, but you are quite certain that she is not nor was she ever made of crimson metal.

"I would prefer to wait with the 'why' until everyone has arrived," Willow tells you. "But to answer some of your other questions: My name is Willow 12 and I'm a magically-enabled quantum computer whose artificial personality was patterned after that of my creator, Willow Rosenburg."

That explanation goes a bit over your head, so you say "Uh, what?"

"And as to where we are," she continues, either oblivious to or not interested in your lack of comprehension, "we are at Grand Central, a space-station located near the point of universal collapse, stationary about one second before the end of the universe on a parallel where no sentient life ever came into being."

Again you say "What?"

"I'll give you the long version in a few minutes, Faith, I promise. But it's quite a bit and I would prefer to just tell it once."

You nod, still a bit lost. Looking around, you try to picture yourself on a space station. The corridor you are currently walking through certainly looks like it might hail from a set of Star Wars, all metal panels and the occasional bit of technological equipment. Your sense of direction is every bit as enhanced as the rest of your senses and you feel a slight curve to the floor, as if you were walking up a slope that just keeps getting steeper without making walking on it any harder.

"The stations is circular and spins around a central axis," Willow 12 says, as if guessing your thoughts. "I have the technology to provide artificial gravity where needed, but its much more effective to let inertia do most of the work."

Once again you simply nod. While you are not exactly a stupid person you are not a rocket scientist, either, and so you hope that the long version of things is going to make a bit more sense then the rest of what you have heard so far.

"You said 'when everyone has arrived'. Who else is coming? Anyone I know?" You mean that last part as a jest.

"I'm currently expecting four more guests, Faith, plus one other who is already here. And as to you knowing them, well, that is a far more interesting question than you might imagine. Let's just say you will find some of them rather familiar."

You huff. "Just once in a while I'd like for someone to make sense, you know? You are worse than that idiot Maverick with all his cryptic babble."

You keep walking, really having little choice in the matter. When Willow 12 came to offer you an alternative to death and you accepted, all the bridges behind you burned down. Not that there were too many bridges to begin with. For a woman who doesn't remember her past except for the last two to three years and has little in the way of friends there wasn't a whole lot to leave behind. You might have become close with Buffy and her little troop, given the chance, but fate had other plans.

The only thing you're a little pissed about is that you might never find out who you are now. Then again, had you died back there you would have died ignorant, too, so there really isn't anything to cry about, is there?

Finally the corridor ends and the two of you walk into a larger room that might as well be located in the Pentagon or somewhere similar, the walls decorated with viewing screens and computer panels. There is a conference table in the middle with seven chairs grouped around it, only one of which is currently occupied.

You frown when you recognize the occupant.

"Angel?"

Again, you haven't gotten as close to the inhabitants of Sunnydale as you might have liked, but you have little trouble recognizing the vampire with a soul. If nothing else Buffy really has a good taste when it comes to men, at least as far as their looks are concerned. Angel is looking mighty fine, especially dressed from head to toe in black leather.

When he turns his head toward you a chill runs down your spine. Somehow you get the feeling that this isn't the soul-filled king of brood you've been told so much about. He grins at you and your Slayer senses are ringing like air-raid sirens.

"Now things are starting to look up," he says, rising to his feet with the grace of a panther. "This place could really do with a few females of the non-metallic variant."

"Faith Winters," Willow 12 handles the introductions, "meet Angelus of Aurelius, hailing from parallel 016. Angelus, meet Faith, the Vampire Slayer from parallel 014."

A scowl appears on Angelus' handsome face. "A Slayer? Figures. First good-looking girl I meet in this place and she just happens to be a Slayer."

"What is going on here?" You snarl at Willow 12. "What's this parallel talk? And what are you doing bringing this ... thing here? He hasn't got a soul, has he? Did you uncurse him or what?"

"Soul?" Angelus asks, confused. "Honey, you really need to get your facts straight. Vampires and souls, not really happening. Didn't your Watcher teach you anything?"

He makes a few steps towards you, leering. "Maybe I should teach you some of those lessons myself."

He is just out of arm's reach when you thrust one of your hands forward, the muscle reflex almost automatic by now even though it's only been a few days since you found out about your little enhancements. There is a sharp pain as metal tears through your skin, but the brief hurting is worth it when you see the look on Angelus' face.

The tips of three eight-inch-long claws are hovering steadily just a hair's breath away from his face, the brief trickle of blood where they punched through the skin between your fingers already slowing as the wounds heal rapidly.

"Wow," he moves back a bit. "I didn't know Slayers came with extras."

"Surprise, surprise! I don't really know what these babies are made from, but I find they cut through vampire necks just fine. Want me to demonstrate?"

Angelus' face darkens and you get the distinct feeling that he doesn't like to be taunted. Also, from this close, you can see that the lower half of his face and his neck are covered with faint scar tissue, almost as if he was burned there a long time ago. Or maybe not so long ago, seeing as how vampires heal almost as fast as you do.

By now you are pretty sure that this man, if that word can be applied to a walking corpse, in front of you is not the man you have met in Sunnydale.

"I like it when they're feisty," Angelus growls at you, but there is no more humor in his voice. "Maybe I'll rip your hands off right along with those pig-stickers."

"I'd like to see you try, bastard!"

There is about a three-second interval where the very air between you seems to crackle with tension and you are not sure whether you should blink, wait, or attack. Then, without warning, you are suddenly pulled apart by some unseen force and crash into the nearest wall with an almost audible clank. You try to move, but your arms are pinned to the wall. On the other side of the room Angelus seems to have the same problem.

"As interesting as that would have been," a familiar voice says, "I doubt that a show of recklessness and abandon is the reason our host invited us here."

"Oh, great," Angelus groans. "First a Slayer, now a mage. This day just keeps getting better and better."

"Giles?" you ask.

Buffy's watcher walks in the door, dressed in some kind of black and blue suit (no tweed) and sporting the kind of haircut that manages to make him look distinguished instead of librarian. His hair is darker than you remember from just yesterday and he wears some kind of medallion around his neck. The pendant looks almost like some kind of eye.

"I'm sorry, young lady, but I'm afraid I don't ..."

"Okay, this is mighty strange," yet another familiar voice says. You manage to turn your head against whatever force is holding you against the wall and see a dark-haired boy enter the room.

"Xander? What is this? The Scooby Gang in the Twilight Zone?"

Xander looks around, taking in Giles, Angelus, and yourself, as well as Willow 12 and .. Willow 12 ... and Willow 12? You notice that there are three of them in the room right now, each having accompanied one of this strange troop inside.

"Faith with claws," Xander mumbles, "Giles with the major magical mojo, deadboy with his evil vibes on, and Willow times three in crimson metal. I knew I shouldn't have gotten outta bed this morning."

"Before this deteriorates any further," Willow 12, one of them, says, "I should clarify a few things. First of all, though most of you may find the other people present to be familiar, let me assure you that none of you have ever met before. You are all from what we call different parallels, meaning alternate universes. The people you have met might be similar to the ones here, but they are the product of different worlds, different chains of events. So I hope whatever grudges you might hold can be put aside for the moment until I get around to telling you why we are all here."

After some tense moments a round of nods follows and the magic that holds you against the wall dissipates. With a sound like swords being pushed into their scabbards your claws withdraw into your hands and the open wounds between your fingers close almost instantly. Angelus, who has slipped into his demonic face sometime during your brief confrontation, reverts back to his human form.

"Thank you," Willow 12 says. "We have two more people coming in right now and I would ask you all to please just keep calm and let me handle all the introductions."

A moment later you see said people arrive, accompanied by another Willow 12, and by now you almost manage not to be surprised. One of them is Oz, Willow's boyfriend, or at least he looks like him. Except for the fact that he seems ... bigger, more massive. He also has an air of danger that the Oz you met in Sunnydale, despite being a werewolf, could never match.

The other person is Buffy.

For a long minute everyone just stares at each other and no stupid comments are made. Then Willow 12, one of the four now in the room, motions towards the chairs and after another minute everyone is seated. You watch in amazement as the four Willow 12's merge into one and sit down on the sole remaining chair at the head of the table.

"Allow me to make the first round of introductions now," she says. "Starting to my right, this is Buffy Anne Summers of parallel 009, formerly the Vampire Slayer of that universe, now an artificial life form like myself."

You frown, seeing as you get a definite supernatural vibe from Buffy. How can that be if she is some kind of machine? Then again, you're getting a magical vibe of Willow 12, too. Buffy sits in her chair and gives you the distinct impression that she is not happy with the current state of affairs. Her gaze keeps straying to Angelus, who has nothing but a leer for her in return.

"Continuing on, to Buffy's right we have Daniel 'Oz' Osborn from parallel 013. He is an artificially mutated werewolf."

Oz says nothing, just looks at the others present in silence. At least that hasn't changed much from the boy you knew briefly.

"Then we have Mr. Rupert Giles from parallel 022. He is that reality's Sorcerer Supreme, meaning that he's probably the most powerful mage you are ever likely to meet."

Giles just gives a nod, seeming composed and proper as an English gentleman should, but your enhanced senses can pick up a trace of nervousness coming off him. It might just be because he is sitting next to a soulless monster.

"To his right we have Angelus of parallel 016. He once was a vampire, now he is something ... worse, I guess you could say. You will get more details later. Suffice to say Angelus does not have a soul like the man many of you have known ..."

"What is it with that soul thing you keep talking about?" Angelus asks, interrupting.

"I will explain later, I promise. To continue our round, we have Alexander Harris, or Xander as he usually calls himself. Xander is an immortal from parallel 017."

"An immortal?" you ask, somewhat intrigued.

"Just what it says," he answers, giving you the barest of smirks. "No aging, no dying, and I can breathe underwater. Not sure where that last thing comes from, but it's kinda cool."

Willow 12 comes around to you. "This is Faith Winters, the Vampire Slayer of parallel 014. She has also received some enhancements sometime in her past, as some of you have already witnessed."

"Those claws must come in handy sometimes," Xander says. "A lot more practical than a sword."

You raise an eyebrow in question, but Willow 12 continues on. "Finally, myself. I am a magically-enabled quantum computer, first activated on parallel 006. My artificial personality was patterned after my creator, Willow Rosenburg, a woman some of you have known in your own worlds. I take her form for occasions such as this, but basically I'm a computer and I also make up the largest part of the station you currently find yourself on."

Everyone looks around, the idea of being in the belly of a giant sentient computer as unappealing to many of them, you are sure, as it is to you.

"Okay, now that we all know where we are," Angelus says, leaning back with his feet on the table, "mind telling us why?"

"Maybe you could first tell us whose brilliant idea it was to invite a soulless killer to this little chat?" Xander glares at him. You manage to spot the handle of a sword briefly visible beneath his coat. You doubt it's ornamental.

"It certainly wasn't mine," Buffy mutters, still looking pissed. From the kinds of daggers she is shooting with her eyes you guess that this Buffy, whatever world she comes from, was as hung up on her Angel-boytoy as your own world's was. Having a soulless variant of him here can't be doing much for her.

"Each and ever one of you has been selected for a reason," Willow 12 states, "as will become apparent once I explain why you are here. As I warned some of you, this story will be a bit longer and requires some background information. So please make yourself comfortable. Refreshments will be provided in a moment."

You manage not to flinch when the floor beside you opens up like a lid and some kind of arm telescopes up, offering you a glass of ... lemonade? Okay, you have no idea what your favorite drink is, given that you don't remember most of your life, but lemonade? Shrugging, you try a sip and find it to be quite pleasant.

A side glance shows you that Angelus has received a glass of blood and Oz is sipping from something that looks like herbal tea. Giles has got mineral water, Xander drinks some kind of beer, and neither Buffy nor Willow 12 are having anything.

"Okay," your crimson hostess finally says. "You're probably wondering why I called you all here today."

"Everyone's a comedian," Xander mumbles under his breath.

TO BE CONTINUED