Disclaimer: JK Rowling and the writers of Buffy the Vampire Slayer own these characters I only borrowed them I swear.
Also I know a few things don't quite fit in place but deal I haven't watched enough BtVS to make it exactly fit sorry!!!!
It was just another summer day in Little Whinging and a teenage boy with messy dark hair and round glasses strolled idly down the street. It was a very ordinary street with semis, front gardens and smart cars parked outside; the kind of place you wouldn't expect anything unordinary to happen. Normally you'd be right about such a street but Privet Drive had seen a few strange things in its time- a snowy owl that seemed to visit one particular window with unnatural frequency, day or night being one of the less unusual oddities. The boy seemed fairly normal too, only a lightening bolt scar on his forehead, virtually hidden by hair, signalling any different, labelling him as 'the boy who lived.'
'The boy' wandered to the park where a group of youths sparred with each other. On spotting the newcomer they turned and began taunting him but it didn't seem to last long. Pretty soon the largest of the bullies called off the others and they turned their attention to beating up a rusty swingset. He continued walking until nightfall not spotting the red haired girl who skulked in the shadows or the monstrous creature that jumped out at him as he turned a corner.
3000 miles away in a Californian prison cell a dark haired girl woke with a start. She was breathing heavily and could still see the creature in her mind. Faith didn't know why she was so breathless, she didn't often have a problem with demonic creatures and she hadn't even been fighting that one. Maybe that was why she was so shocked, no one was fighting it, they'd left the boy on his own. "Still," Faith reasoned, "That can't be it, I don't even know that boy and anyway loads of people die from attacks Buffy can't be everywhere. It's not like I can do anything from in here." Not in the least comforted Faith turned over and went back to sleep. This time she saw a pale face with a flat snake-like nose, a lipless mouth open wide, laughing an unnaturally cold laugh. As it turned her eyes locked with the lidless slits that were the eyes of this face and a cruel voice cried "Avada Kedavra." In a jet of green light Faith woke again this time not just breathing hard but sweating and shaking.
Now in actual fact the boy hadn't been left to fight the demon alone. The red head was fighting it for him but without revealing herself. She muttered words under her breath that gradually wore the creature out and allowed the boy to run away before she dealt with the remains. Yet she was not the only one skulking in shadows that night, as she lifted a black bag containing the body a kind but startling voice said "Willow I think we should have a little chat……."
Shift in setting to circular office:
"Why not? Yes that would be quite interesting. She could be very good." The man speaking seemed to be considering something very carefully although it was hard to tell where he was directing these words. There were several portraits along the walls but ordinarily they wouldn't be able to hear and these ones were pretty much all snoozing so their hearing abilities made no difference. The only other living creature in the room was a reddish gold bird that was staring piercingly at the door in the opposite direction from the elderly gentleman with the long white beard sitting in an armchair in front of the fire. The circular room was full of strange shiny instruments, something that looked like a spinning top and a minute model of the solar system but the strangest thing was the stone basin in front of the room's occupant. There was nothing really extraordinary about the basin itself, more what was inside it. There seemed to be a film playing but it was incredibly lifelike. A young blonde, dressed in tight fitting leather trousers and a tank top was fighting a small group of youths, eventually stabbing each one with a wooden stake apparently causing them to burst into clouds of dust. The same blonde was then sitting in a cosy kitchen with a red haired woman and a dark haired man, chatting, seemingly relaxed in grey jogging bottoms and a pyjama top. That image didn't last long and soon she was fighting again, this time a dark haired girl of her own age. Then the images became more flickering. She was falling from a huge tower into a flame filled abyss, weeping at a graveside, lying in bed with a handsome man of twenty-something, walking in circles around a graveyard, lying in a wooden box clawing at the lid. Then a young child appeared sitting in a pre-school classroom, standing in a corner of the room stubbornly refusing to cry, a ten year old fighting in the playground, a fifteen year old cheerleader and then a young adult standing in front of a class apparently teaching them combat.
"I suppose it could be the watcher instead," mused the old man placing his wand in the basin as a middle aged man wearing glasses appeared, "or the witch, but no. She has strength, and the other one? Well that can wait, and the younger one? She must become a student." Having apparently answered his own ambiguous questions the man rose and donned a pointed hat leaving the curious room and descending a moving, spiral staircase as if this were perfectly normal, which for him it was.