She awoke startled as someone reached to the inside of her wrist, checking her pulse. Her sudden flailing sent the woman to the ground, stumbling back with a brief cry of alarm, and Nataunia nearly fell out of the chair she'd been lain in as well. Bright, fluorescent lights lit up the large room she was in, setting spots in her vision as she looked around, and she barely noticed the large collection of other chairs, or the nurse's station, instead focusing on where the words Sunnydale Emergency Ward were emblazoned on the wall. She stood, eyes still wide and frightened, and nearly tripped over where her duffle had been set.
The nurse was trying to stand, berating her for startling the poor woman, but Nataunia didn't hear it. Panic was rushing through her, and she patted herself down quickly, finding the slight bulge of half of her savings in the inside pocket of her jacket, and the strap of the sling bag still across her. As she spun around again, ignoring the woman's attempts to check on her, and ask what was wrong, she realized that she was in a real hospital. "What is this? Who's doing this?" She spun to stare at the nurse, still panicking, and the woman stopped abruptly to stare at her in annoyance. "How did I get here?"
"I just found you after my rounds." The woman huffed, glowering, and folded her arms. "Someone lay you there while I was checking the other patients. A fright you gave me. For all I knew, you could have been some dead body someone lay there."
"No, here. How did I get here?" Nataunia insisted, grabbing her duffle and ready to run. She shook her head. This couldn't be some prize or gift. Even if her parents had moved back to feeling guilty again, this was beyond their 'generosity'. On the set, on an episode maybe, but not this. "This is some kind of trick, isn't it? What did I ever do to you people?!"
"Miss, you need to calm down." The nurse reached for her again, and Nataunia struggled back, staring at her in distrust and hurt. "You may have hit your head… do you know what happened before you became unconscious, why you were?"
"How did I get here? Sunnydale doesn't exist." Nataunia snarled at her, and the woman suddenly got the look on her face that there probably was something seriously wrong with the girl. "What's going on?"
"It's okay, honey. Just calm down. Go ahead and have a seat. We'll figure this out." The nurse's voice dropped an octave, likely in an attempt to be more soothing, and the girl saw that expression come onto her face. She hadn't really realized before, in her panic, that it wasn't there in the first place, but it was an expression she'd grown so used to seeing that she'd recognize it anywhere. The woman didn't want to be around her, wanted to get away from her, and would likely pawn her company off on the first person she could manage.
Nataunia's eyes narrowed and she took another step back and away. "That's not a way for a nurse to look, even with whatever's happening." And with that she ran, using the woman's shock and sudden confusion at the change in topics to give herself extra time. By the time any of the orderlies had caught up with her, notified belatedly by the unfortunate woman, she was outside and still running.
It was almost morning, gauging by the soft light starting to color the horizon, and when she ran out of breath and endurance to keep going, Nataunia nearly collapsed in place. Where was she? What was going on that someone would turn the only thing she really had to look forward to, into a nightmare for her? Had they even known she'd leave her phone behind? What did I ever do to these people? To my parents even, or her even? Why?
She didn't indulge in breaking into tears there. In truth, she likely wouldn't have done it even if she knew she was safe. She'd moved past crying over her situation long ago. Instead, she glared around, attempting to find the source of whatever had dropped her into this crazy joke they were playing on her. No one popped out of the shadows, she heard not laughter, and still she couldn't see the end to whatever set she was on. That left walking. Eventually, if she kept going, she'd come to the edge of where the prank was being played, if that was what it was instead of some screwy hallucination. Either that or they'd catch up with her and throw something else in her face.
By the time her legs were starting to seriously protest, and the fingers of the hand carrying her duffle going numb from clinging to its strap, she hadn't reached the edge of the town. She had, however, moved into a significantly seedier area, and saw the half-lit sign of a motel not too far away. She hadn't eaten, really, since the possibly questionable cereal back at home, and without food, and whatever else her body had undergone with all the passing out, she was starting to seriously drag. Food would have to wait, though. She'd gone without, out of stubbornness, before… she could stand to again. She'd take the night in the little dive, then keep going.
Nataunia ended up standing in front of the motel manager's office for several moments, in sheer shock, after 'acquiring' a room for herself. It looked exactly like Faith's motel in the series. It was, well, kinda creepy, looking back on the events of the night, as she walked toward the beaten door that led to her room. She didn't know how they'd managed those effects with the supposed vampire, and either they were amazing look-alikes, or the real Sarah Michelle Gellar and Eliza Dushku were in on whatever this was. And, of course, what she'd seen of the town had seemed like those fleeting shots of the town's scenery in the show. No monster or vampire was waiting for her behind the door, nor a mysterious message explaining the rules of the game laying innocently on her bed, so all she could really do was check to make sure the sheets were clean before collapsing into real sleep. Who'd have thought that passing out and walking around could be so exhausting?
A shower had been necessary when she woke up, even if there weren't towels available in a place like this. She didn't trust how clean the sheets appeared to be, or the scent of dust and other things in the air, so she made use of her packed toiletries and designated two of her tanktops for drying off. Of course, that meant that her hair was still wet, and her skin still damp, when she'd gotten a new set of dry clothes on. She was still doing repeated rounds of combing, then squeezing and shaking out her hair, when someone knocked on the door.
Nataunia froze in place, staring at the closed blinds and curtains of the little window, and waited to see if she'd just misinterpreted banging from the next room over. Softly, the knock came again, and very distinctly a knock on the door. Nataunia scowled, muttering a quiet, almost fearful, "Fuck," before digging in her duffle for the machete. Time for this to actually come in handy, I think. She slowly crept to the door, dropping the sheath to the ground gently, and tried to peek through peep hole. A vaguely familiar hat was pretty much all she could see of the person, and she carefully flipped the lock in reaction.
That she answered the door, blade ready and pointing, startled the man on the other side. That the blade being ready meant it came through the cracked doorway first, pointing at him and barely not stabbing into him, made him take a step back. Nataunia stood there, glaring at him suspiciously, hair still damp, kukri machete in hand, and couldn't quite believe who had come calling. "Holy fuck."
"Literally… and you seem to like that word a lot." He gave a skeptical, nervous laugh, and raised his hands slowly in an almost placating manner. "Mind putting that overgrown butter knife down?"
"You're Whistler." She said, in still standing there with the weapon pointed, but her voice carried disbelief. He nodded, gesturing again at the blade, and she slowly backed up, drawing it to the side instead of putting it down. "As in… Whistler. You were there for what, two episodes? Why the fuck are you in on this shit?"
"Yeah, messenger of the Powers and all that. I still don't like that whole, you holding a knife thing." He offered, sitting on the still-mussed bed, and looking at her skeptically. She simply continued to stare at him, her grip tightening slightly, and he sighs, shaking his head. "Bad as Buffy, you know. At least there's no imagery. Sorry about the vampire, by the way. Bad drop, bad drop. Had a talk with your Mallak for leaving you there."
"Firstly," Nataunia said, closing the door belatedly and approaching to gesture with the machete, "what the fuck is going on? Secondly: What the hell is a Mallak, and why do I have one?"
"Mallak. They're kinda like angels… almost." He shrugged. "They work for the Powers, you know. Those humans… they got it mixed up. Called 'em malakhim or something like that. They do the work when the Powers need something done about mortals… or people like me… or other things. Yours was supposed to drop you where the Slayers could find you… it just didn't notice the vampire nearby when it did. But, it's dust, you're lacking in nasty vampire-bites, so we're peachy."
"Seriously… what the fuck?" She looked even more skeptical this time, and certainly more confused, but his babble had made her stance relax slightly, and the blade had been lowered to her side as she stared at him.
"Yeah, seriously." He laughed and leaned back. "Nice digs. You know, that butter knife would'a scared me more if I were alive, but hey, do what you can, right? So ease up with the thing swinging around, okay? I got some things to talk to you about."
"First thing… you're supposed to be an immortal demon that does the balance shit." She growled, turning to fetch the sheath and glare at him as she put the weapon away. He smirked at her. "Also, you haven't told me what the hell is going on."
"Yay, new swear words. I'm so proud." He joked, still smirking. "Just because Mr. Whedon decided to write it, doesn't make it true here, honey. You ready to listen yet? At least you smell better than the last shmuck I had to bring into the Slayer's life."
"A Slayer's life." She corrected absently, sitting at the head of the bed, sheathed blade still in hand, and glaring at him. He turned to look at her as she made herself mostly comfortable, and chuckled at her expression. "There's two now, whatever's going on."
"Right. You're gonna be good at this." He shook his head and shrugged. "You know who I am, right? Whistler. Supposed balance-keeping demon. Demon's right, alive isn't, immortal wasn't. No more immortal than vampires, anyway. Got in the way of something by accident, ended up with a soul that hadn't earned its way either direction. So here you see me, still working that balance act. You, missy, are special though. Caught attention when you were born, you did. On both sides, actually. That's why things went to high hell for you I guess. Let's just say that if that vampire had made a meal of you, he'd have gotten VIP seating in the apocalypse."
"Right." She snorted, and abruptly kicked out to hit him in the leg, and possibly force him off of her temporary bed. Her eyes widened as her heel went through his knee, and he smacked her ankle for the effort. She'd actually felt the hit, light though it was, even after seeing her foot go through him.
"I told you, I died." He shook his head and rolled his eyes, muttering about stupid girls not paying attention. "Nataunia, this ain't some fangirl's nightmare, eh. This is real. You're not in Kansas anymore… or rather, your own reality. I don't think you were ever in Kansas in the first place."
"Holy shit." She stammered, eyes widened again and looking more freaked out than anything else. He nodded, rolling his eyes, as he agreed with that statement. "You're… I'm… holy shit."
"I'd say that's accurate, yeah. Told you that already." He laughed. "Listen, you've been living in the wrong place, girl. And by wrong, I don't mean you were really meant to be a California girl all along. Something happened, a glitch in the works, and you ended up smack dab in a world you don't belong. You were never meant to live in that reality, Nataunia, not a part of it. They know you never felt right there, and I know from watching you last night that you didn't trust anyone there to not royally fuck you over."
"The hell…" She growled at him.
"Admit it kid, you know you didn't belong there." He shrugged casually. "You're spirit, girl, it's unique. We don't have a lot of the type, anywhere, and yours is one of a kind. You wound up with bad luck, got pawned off somewhere that didn't want you, even the world itself. Your vibe, it's enough to put people off there, how different it is from that world… and you know you were miserable. Admit it kid, you weren't much longer there, miserable as you were. Damn lucky we sent someone along when we did the first time."
"Shut up." She was growling at him again, and felt an odd tingle along her shoulders and hands at the urge to hit him again. He looked only briefly alarmed before his casual, joking demeanor returned.
"They wanted you to get all healed up and healthy again, and just had t' wait for a good and proper… convenient time to make a grab at you." Whistler yawned. "You were meant to be here all along, as things go. Place with magic, place with where people with power belong. All packed up like you were, handy time to swap you over here. No worries about your other-parents. Little though they'd like as care, we left a note on your old bed about running off to find a place to 'belong'. Way things were going, they won't mind."
"So what, it's just some blip on the radar that I was in an entire reality I didn't belong to?" She asked, half incredulous, half furious.
"Mistakes happen kid." He sighed, looking uncomfortable at being called on the 'mistake'. "Listen… we… uh… we pulled you here cause you'd be of use to the Slayers. Someone like you… you got power. Power that'll help even the scales, as time goes by. We got some instructions, and some orders, things you need to know." Her frown increased as he spoke, incredulousness ebbing as talk of orders came. "It's mostly… we want you to help the Slayers, learn from the witch. Power like yours goes unchecked, could hurt you… or even draw something to you that'll do that job nice and dead for you. Dangerous to help them, but more so to wander around on your own."
"I've… really got power, then?" She asked, pushing away her anger at the pain of her life being caused by some stupid mistake of birth, at the hurt of the truth that no one would mind her suddenly being gone there. She had to concentrate on something else, something better, it was how she'd always coped. "I mean… I could actually… what kind of…"
"So shocked your stammering. Go Whistler." He chuckled. "You felt it just then, didn't you? The power, when you got angry. It's your spirit, girl, your soul. It's not human, much as the case that holds it is, or looks… or whatever." Her eyebrows rose. "When you were little, you pushed against that buffer we gave you so you could survive there. The buffer made you feel more like you belonged to people… but you could feel something else inside that buffer. You could feel, when you got excited, or angry…"
"Wings." She finished for him, her voice awed, and he nodded.
"Wings, and claws… and a tail, kinky bit that is." Whistler winked at her, and she blushed. "Can't tell you right what that is, not my place, not my knowledge, but that spirit isn't human, and it's got power that it feeds through you. More you pushed at that power, that feeling, more it cracked the buffer. Things got bad for you… gradually, but they got bad. You're coming into it fully now. Power ascension, and I don't mean the grody kind the old Mayor went through. It's when your power matures, and can only grow more through effort and training… yours is on your eighteenth. Up to you to get training to keep it in check… we're just pushing you to train with the Witch."
"… Willow?" Her voice squeaked, and her cheeks darkened again. They not only wanted her to help the Scoobies… they actually wanted her to train with them, be with them? The thought excited and frightened her. The real Slayers and Willow, and Xander, and everyone. Not the actors, but the real people. "The… Willow?"
"Yeah. Miss Witch." He shook his head. "We know it won't be all sunshine and flowers, trying to get hooked up with them, and you need time to deal. Month of stay is paid for here, since you decided it was a good place to stop." His expression told of how skeptical he was of that decision. "Also have transportation for you. Not much but, hey, saw you walking around all vulnerable last night, figured we had to do something about that. You'll be able to ride it, made sure of it, but… well… wouldn't trust other people to try without you driving, okay? Here, safety first." He reached down, to where she was sure there hadn't been anything before, and came back up with a helmet.
"A… you lot are giving me a… motorcycle?" She stared at the helmet in her hands, and then at him. It certainly felt real, and she had been sure there was nothing like it in the room before. "I…"
"The other thing is… well… we don't want you back in the old place, not with the use you can be here, not with the misery it was for you there… it'd be bad all around if you did." He shook his head. "Not sure if they'd allow it to happen, even. Your job, pretty much, is not to tell them where you're from. According to the license wedged in the helmet, you were in an orphanage a few cities away when you got it. That's all that group you're so fond of really needs to know. Slayer… blonde one at least… she's stubborn about right that she'd think sending you 'home' would be the only logical reaction, nevermind that you don't belong there."
"Right…" it sounded even more skeptical than she felt, and as he winked and wished her luck, she was forced to watch him simply… disappear in front of her.
Sunnydale. I'm… I'm in the real Sunnydale. I'm going to meet the real Buffy and Faith and Willow and everyone… Her mind was whirling around with that knowledge, and she simply sat there, stunned, as she pushed the hurt feelings about her past away. I'm… not going to be scorned by everyone simply because I exist here. Sadly, it was that thought, that solidified the small smile on her face, and she glanced down to find the driver's license tucked into the visor of the helmet. On it was a sticky note with one last instruction, "Learn to make the wings real… make them come out."
The note she crumpled and tossed away, tucking the license into her pocket without much thought, and Nataunia sat contemplating the helmet, and her new fate. Fleeting memories danced through her mind, of her hidden in her room imagining, or perhaps only thinking it was her imagination, pushing at the crackling, static-like feeling of wings extending from her back, and claws on her fingers. Lifting a hand, and keeping in mind where she was, that she belonged her, Nataunia looked hard at her fingers. And, remembering, if only barely, how it felt to push at that strange feeling, she concentrated.
She almost thought she saw blue-white energy starting to crackle there, almost thought she felt a stinging, burning sensation to accompany it, but her concentration broke at a loud rumble of protest from her stomach. It had been a day, possibly longer, since she'd eaten. Likely, considering that magic was supposed to take energy and personal effort, she needed to eat before she made any major tries. "Right Nataunia, make yourself pass out again. That's smart." She sighed and rolled her eyes at herself. She had money, and a free room apparently, as well as something to ride in her search for food. Whatever this whole thing was, be it a dream, a trick, or real, it would have to wait.
At least her hair had dried, kind of, in their talk. Nataunia shuffled through her used clothes, digging out the boots she'd been wearing, and tossed the wet shirts she'd used to dry off on the sink. Her sling bag she emptied into her duffle, hiding that away under the bed. The bag would do for holding a hair-dryer, and possibly a towel, for while she was playing motel-resident. Those, and anything else she thought of, could be gotten after she'd fed the growling pit that had replaced her stomach. When she'd stuffed half of her money, a brush, and hair tie, into the sling bag, and the other half of her money into one of the buttoned side-pockets of her pants, she felt herself ready to face whatever the town decided to throw at her. The folding knife tucked into the other side pocket probably helped with the feeling.
Outside of the room, sitting innocently in a parking space, was a strange little hybrid bike. It was small, at least for a motorcycle, and looked something akin to a black dirt bike with a bigger engine, and sitting on its leather seat were a pair of keys. It hadn't been tampered with, and despite the presence of others in the parking lot, no one had stolen it. The keys she added to the ring holding her motel room's key, and she dutifully ignored the fuzzy, pink rabbit's foot that was its keychain. That would be tossed out later. Or maybe just at Anya, if she got to meet her too.
Riding the bike wasn't difficult really. She found herself making adjustments, shifting, and riding with almost second nature, and decided against trying tricks she'd seen in movies simply because she didn't want to press her luck. Food was acquired at a drive through, which she had found only after stubbornly passing Doublemeat… twice. No way was she even thinking about eating there. She spent the rest of the day innocently exploring, and subsequently getting lost, in the city-like town. Much to her surprise, the high school was still standing, if looking significantly different than she remembered it in the show. She even saw the Espresso Pump and UC Sunnydale, though she ignored the urge to get a drink at the first, fearing that she'd see part of the group before she was ready.
She was ready to go back to the motel, now in possession of a hair dryer and towel, by the time it was starting to get into evening. She even picked up a burger on the way, determined to try again at that whole wings and claws thing, and not let hunger get in the way. If she couldn't prove to herself that she had power in need of training, she knew that she'd have hard luck convincing Willow.
"Holy fuck…" it was a whisper; she feared anything louder would break her concentration, and blow away the progress she'd made. It had started out as an effort to affirm to herself that, yes, she wasn't just an ordinary human… that she was what Whistler had said. That, as much as everything else she'd seen, would prove to her that this was all real. Now, four days later, it was more to gain headway on her own, and stall the meeting with the Slayers. Before her, she could see the blue-white crackling energy in the distinct shape of large, almost demonic claws, a prickling, stretched sensation on her fingers accompanying them. The same feeling spanned from her shoulders down her back a bit, and at her tailbone, as evidence that she sported large wings and a long tail as well. It was the longest she'd managed so far, almost five minutes now, and as the crackling energy started to fade, she glanced behind her at the semblance of draconic wings and slithering tail that were starting to fade too.
Five full minutes, and then they faded. The tingling sensation remained for only seconds after it, making her want to wriggle in place as it trickled down her back, but she had a feeling that was as much as she'd manage without someone to teach her, at least in any decent amount of time. She wasn't going to manage stalling much longer. Sighing, and dismissing the urge to wriggle again as the tingling feeling faded away as well, she stood, ready to start looking for a way to greet the Slayers, and their friends. It was strange, really, the differences she'd noticed in those days she'd taken. The school still stood, and looked like it had just started the school year in the last day or two. It was certainly a different building design too. As well… Faith was there. The last she knew, Faith had been in jail, in LA.
Nataunia's thoughts staggered to a halt as something light landed on her head, then fluttered down, touching on her shoulder and arm before drifting to her feet. The little paper had a strange, almost parchment-like quality to it, and as she bent, she wondered where it had come from. Lettering on it glittered and shone gold, and she had to blink a bit, turning the page this way and that to catch the light properly but not shine too much to be read. To apologize for the vampire. Look at the bed, they won't be there for long.
She spun, startled, at the message and stared at what was undeniably there, on the messy bed. Two tablets… actual, stone tablets… rested against her pillow. She didn't quite know what to make of it, except that it had to either be an archaic form of message from above… or perhaps Whistler's idea of a joke. The writing was significantly easier to read on them, without the trouble of it shining and needing different angles, and looked to have been there as the rock formed, instead of being chiseled. It detailed, of all things, not sins or rules, but rather small bits of information that she'd been wondering at. According to the heavy, impractical things, the school had been rebuilt, with the Principal's office over the hellmouth, instead of the library. Supposedly the principal, one Mr. Wood, was the son of a previous Slayer, and was a sketchy ally of the Slayers, though not a friend. He'd tried to kill Spike over the summer, in vengeance for his mother apparently. Spike was no longer around, not because of that, but from sacrificing himself to save Dawn from a demon. Faith, apparently, had been broken out to save Angel, and the vampire's allies hacked the system to have her legally out on bail. She now lived with the Sunnydale crew, attempting to make up for her previous mistakes. Willow had also, apparently, been away in England, learning control, and was back too.
The second tablet detailed, of all things, information about the past, differences from the show in her old home. The first it listed, which seemed the least important, was that though Angel tried to kill himself on the Christmas of Buffy's senior year, he hadn't been haunted by the First, whatever that was. She only vaguely remembered the episode herself, and her frustration that Buffy had left both her mother and Faith behind for the stupid vampire. The second was that though Faith had indeed joined the Mayor, in fear and stubborn reaction to her inadvertent killing of Finch, she'd refused to hurt the Scoobies… other than Wesley, who'd set the Watchers' dogs on her. It had been information she fed them, at the last, that had helped to defeat the ascended demon. After that, she'd run to LA, and eventually turned herself into the police when Angel had finally managed to get through to her. The fourth was that, though Xander and Anya had a dysfunctional, but existent relationship, Anya remained a vengeance demon.
She stared at the heavy, stone tablets for a moment, after reading the information, and frowned. Seriously? That was what they'd gone to the trouble of special, miracle-like effects for? She appreciated the information, and it resulted in slightly less confusion for her on the part of the school and Faith's presence, but mostly the differences were inconsequential, as she'd have to pretend to not know all of it anyway. Letting out a sigh, she patted the stones gently and shook her head. "Well… um… thanks though, I guess. It was nice to know?" And then the tablets and the note disappeared, much like Whistler had when his own message and information had been imparted.
It was later into the afternoon, with the sun starting to set even, but she hadn't had anything for dinner yet, and knew from an experience a day or so ago that too much effort with that power of hers without food had a tendency toward feeling woozy, and weak, and almost throwing up. She had no intention of tearing up her esophagus like that, so though she disliked the idea of going out at night in Sunnydale, she also had a feeling she'd be safer than a poor delivery boy that didn't know what was out there. As such, that meant she was going out for dinner, instead of ordering in.
It still came as a slight surprise to her that no one ever attempted to tamper with her bike, more so than that she hadn't found a gas tank on it. It was a gift from the powers, which meant that its odd machinery was something she'd never understand, and didn't try to. Nevertheless, this wasn't the safest area of Sunnydale, she was sure of that, and yet no one had attempted to steal it, or its parts… at least not that she could ever tell.
"You, my friend, are a mystery and enigma, but you're also the coolest thing I've ever owned… if that's what you can call our relationship." Nataunia murmured to the thing, secure in her safety while on it though she never understood that feeling either, and patted first the cover for the engine, then the knife in her pocket. As it started to life, she was comforted even more by the bass purr the engine made when it ran. "Eventually I'll think of a name suitably magical for you." Strangely enough, the purr of the engine increased in intensity for a moment, before settling again, and she thought briefly that it had revved itself in response to her comment. Another oddity of the bike, she supposed. "Leave it to Whistler to give me a bike that has an actual personality. Only in the Buffyverse." She smiled and shook her head, then turned and spun off to find herself a pizza shop. She'd know Sunnydale by heart, simply from getting lost, eventually.
TBC