So, yeah, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
belongs to me and I own the rights to all the characters and concepts I use in this story. That’s why I’m posting it for free, online, and live in a small dorm room. Seriously, no, this all belongs to Joss Whedon.
Willow woke up. Nope, not dreaming. She was in the same bedroom as the night before. Fortunately, the bed was comfortable. And the room was nice. And it wasn't a dream. She'd still held out a little hope. But, no, here she was. Not dreaming. Same room. Same house. January 21st, 2009. Eight years of her life, gone. Eight years.
The clock gave the answer she was looking for, that is, for what time it was. 10:15 in the morning. She'd slept in again. She got up out of the bed, dressed, unfortunately, in the same nightie as the night before (after all, an inconsistency would mean it wasn't real, right?), and looked around. She decided to be bold for once. No meekness now for Willow Rosenberg. She was going to be un-meek and go explore, um, her own house.
That had sounded so much more impressive before she had realized that.
So, she went out of the bedroom, and took a walking tour of the house by herself. There was no one else around, Willow could feel that easily. How could she feel it so easily? Because of a ward attached to her. One with her own, clear magical signature running through it. It was disconcerting and somewhat comforting at the same time. She hadn't actually noticed it yesterday, but now she was surprised she hadn't.
The first room she came to was a guest room. She could tell because all there was inside was a bed, nightstand, and some clothes, clearly belonging to Kennedy. And that's where she must have slept last night. She closed that door, going to the next room, which was pure storage.
The next room was a bedroom. Furnished, this time, fully, and most of the walls were covered with bookcases. And downright filled with books. Completing it were some posters on the wall, a desk with various writing utensils on it, etc. A normal teenager's room, if a rather booky one. Well, it was mostly normal and holy crap. Half the books were in Hebrew. Half the posters
were in Hebrew. She thought. She couldn't actually read Hebrew to know for sure, but being raised Jewish, even Reform, generally gave you a good feel for what looked like Hebrew.
poster was kind of weirding her out, though. It was criminal for an actor to look so much like Tara. So she left. It probably wasn't polite to be in someone else's bedroom, anyway, she justified to herself. The rest of the upper floor was pretty much storage and guest rooms. Going downstairs, Willow went down into the basement. It was a training room - wow. It was huge. There were all manner of weapons, swords, axes, bows and crossbows, and even some pre-whittled stakes. Nothing she wouldn't expect from a slayers' training room... wait. The locker. Something felt off in there.
Crap. Weapons. And not of the good demon-slayee kind, more of the super-bad human-killy kind. She was going to have to give her older self a very, very stern talking to for letting guns in the house. She almost poofed them into nothingness right then and there, but thought better of actually messing with the training room. Buffy could get really
cranky when things were out of place in the Magic Box or the old high school library when she used them as training areas. And cranky slayer is never, ever of the good.
Come to think of it, this entire area of the house felt less like herself than any other part. She realized, kinda late, that this was Kennedy's sanctuary. Yeah. Better not to mess with anything. She immediately stopped looking around and went back up to the first floor.
Ah, the first floor. Just a normal first floor to a normal house, Willow thought. She hadn't really been paying attention the day before, but she'd have had to be blind to miss the large television in the living room. Large didn't quite cover it. It was all gianty. Like six feet across. Exaggerate much
? She thought to herself, though her more rational thoughts admitted it was, indeed, gianty. Which, of course, probably isn't a word, but Willow wasn't caring about that at that moment.
Well, then there was a dining room. Pretty normal. The kitchen behind it was pretty normal. There was chocolate ice cream. No, bad Willow! Ten thirty in the morning.
She settled for a glass of orange juice. There was a computer kinda room, with two computers, desks, etc., around a few chairs and couches. The final room she went into, however, she knew immediately it was hers.
The room was pretty darn close to perfect. It was clearly smaller than the training room, much smaller, but it obviously performed the same function for Willow that the basement did for Kennedy. Holy crap. She actually just admitted that this whole future thing made sense.
That gave her pause. But she started looking around again anyway.
There were all sorts of magical herbs and ingredients in closed cabinets. Open bookshelves on one side were filled with computer programming books and an organized selection of her favorite literature. There was a slot missing between The Two Towers
and The Silmarillion
where the book she had upstairs clearly belonged. Opening closed bookshelves on the other side was where she could find magic books, galore. Not just magic. Demonology. There was a lot
. There really was. Not as much as Giles had in Sunnydale, but, hey. She was more than a little impressed with future-self.
Beyond all of it was a desk. A desk with a computer. Sitting down behind it, she discovered, a desk with a really cool
computer. Which, of course, she immediately started up. It took her less than two minutes to guess the password. Crayon86. At least she still thought the same way. She started up the internet (and holy crap did that go fast!) and just started looking. She didn't know what she was doing, so she stared at the screen blankly for a minute before typing the first thing she thought of into Google.Buffy Summers
The first thing to pop up was actually a thing about Dawn at - holy crap, at Oxford. Mentioning her sister in an interview with something. Next link was Dawn again, but the third one... no. Couldn't be Buffy. Could it?
It was. That picture. Definitely Buffy. Though Willow couldn't understand a word of Spanish, that was definitely a picture of Buffy. Labeled "Buffy Anne Summers O'Neill". Was she married? No, Dawn had said she wasn't. Where had that come... oh, right, Spanish. Duh. They put their mother's name at the end. O'Neill must have been Joyce's name. Actually, now that she thought about it, she remembered that from Buffy's paperwork back at UC Sunnydale, for some reason.
Putting it through a nifty, if not very good, automatic translator, Buffy had apparently won some sort of academic award for an undergraduate project she had done in college. In Madrid. Madrid. The information sheet under it said she would be graduating from school (in Madrid!) in May 2009, and was a double major in Mythology and Psychology.
The fourth site was that stupid sdaleconspiracy site. Wouldn't they ever go away?
She stopped there, googling the next thing that came to her mind.Dawn Summers
First site to pop up - University of Pennsylvania. Department of Mythology. It had a short biography of Dawn, born in Los Angeles, raised in Sunnydale, college at Oxford, and, now, Ph.D. work at the University of Pennsylvania.
Wait a minute."Lecturer"?
Ending Note: sdaleconspiracy is the work of Marcus Rowland, whose work I highly recommend to anyone who enjoys Buffy fanfiction