This story is not technically part of a series (yet) but reading Self Discovery first might be helpful.
Additionally, I own neither BtVS nor ABVH. I do not own any other aspect of pop culture mentioned in this piece of fanfiction, nor do I own Scotland. I kind of wish I did though...
Dawn did not like the cold. She never had.
That was the main reason she disliked living in Castle Summers. Scotland was already cold; Scotland in the winter time was even colder! There was snow everywhere! And wind! And cold!
Dawn was not happy and Portunas wanted to go somewhere warmer.
Portunas. Ever since reading through those books and summoning her brother she'd been gaining little glimmers of memory from her divine life. And her divine life had very vivid memories of warm climates and adoration; both of which were in small supply in the stone castle of the slayers. Dawn could remember laying on the beach, surrounded by her handmaidens as they played music and danced. Her brother would be there as well, laughing and telling her fantastic stories.
Her brother had turned out to be something...unexpected; it turned out Dawn's friend Janice had been Janus. A name jump Dawn could have figured out from the beginning if she'd asked her friend how his
name was spelled when they first met. But, the god had actually been quite amused by the fact that his sister had changed so very little. Always making assumptions and accepting people without really wondering. She made judgments based on behavior, just like she was supposed to.
And right now she was supposed to be opening a portal to a beach on Bermuda. A beach that happened to be full of pagans who were only too excited for her arrival. Bermuda, where she would have snow and she wouldn't be shivering nonstop.
The only reason she wasn't shivering right now was the cloak Willow had enchanted for her as a welcome to Goddess-ness gift. Made from heavy silk velvet in rich vermilion, it blocked out the cold and kept her nice and toasty without making her gross and sweaty. She was wearing a summer dress underneath her cloak in preparation for her trip to Bermuda. The light as air silk would have been torture to wear at any time in Scotland, likewise the sandals would have been insanity. But not with the magical cloak of warm.
When Dawn reached her circle -something Janus had very carefully helped her construct- she began unpacking her supplies from her little basket and setting up the ritual. The spell was one of Willow's, carefully altered for Dawn's use. Dawn had never done the spell on her own before, but it wasn't too incredibly hard when she practiced it with Willow. In fact, Willow was waiting for her in Bermuda to see if she got it right.
Which she would. She was a goddess of portals after all.
A few moments later Dawn decided that she could not open portals to places. At least not yet. Right now she seemed to be opening portals from
places. The proof of that was growling at her right now. A wolf at least the size of pony -possibly a horse- had come through the bright blue portal; the portal should have been sandy colored with streaks of blue.
“Oh please don't kill me mister wolf,” Dawn whispered, trying to back away from the creature slowly. If it hadn't been so completely terrifying it would have been a very beautiful creature. With thick fur the color of gingersnaps and eyes the color of amber, aside from the vicious growling and dripping saliva, he looked comforting and fluffy.
“Where am I?”
Dawn fell onto her backside in surprise when the wolf shouted at her. Since when did wolves talk?! The great beast stalked closer to her, lower his head to Dawn's level. Dear god this thing was scary as hell, she could smell it's breath and feel the warm air ghost across her skin. And worse still, it's cold nose was pressing up against her own!
“Where am I?” it asked again.
“S-Scotland,” Dawn answered shakily. “Northern Scotland by the coast. At Castle Summers.”
The wolf took a deep sniff before sitting down in front of her and continuing to stare. Dawn made to shift away but found a large paw resting on her knee, keeping her in place.
“So are you,” Dawn replied before she could stop herself. The wolf lowered it head slightly and let out a small growl. “I mean, well, my sister moved us here to start her school up.”
“So why am I here?”
“I was trying to open a portal to Bermuda,” Dawn answered. Under non life threatening instances, she wouldn't have spilled her guts so easily. “But something went wrong with the spell.”
The wolf snarled then, but he moved slightly away from her, cursing about witches and someone named Jon Clod and needing something. Whatever. Just because he'd backed away however did not mean he had removed his paw. His super massive paw of doom with the pad scratching against her through the silk of her cloak and spreading mud onto the brilliant...
“Oh god dammit,” Dawn cried out, interrupting the wolf in his musings. “I look like friggin red riding hood.”
The wolf blinked at her for a moment before letting out a strange laugh. “You do. But I try very hard not to eat little girls.”
“That was so comforting,” Dawn replied sarcastically. “Listen, I'm going to try very hard to get you back to whatever place you're from.”
“I'm from St Louis,” the wolf replied. “Just send me back there so I can tell my pack I'm okay.”
Dawn raised a brow. “Last I checked St Louis didn't have packs of horse sized wolves running around.”
The wolf seemed to sigh at her before grudgingly replying.
“I'm a werewolf.”
Dawn blinked before her brows furrowed in confusion. Oz was a werewolf. His wife was a werewolf. Last Thursday one of the slayers became a werewolf. “You're not a werewolf.”
“Yes I am,” the wolf argued, just as confused.
“I'll give you Talking Wolf, or Shapeshifter, but you aren't a werewolf. I've met werewolves and you sir, are not one of them.”
The wolf stared at her before taking a deep breath and letting out a huff. “What does a werewolf look like then?”
“Not like you. They walk on two legs and have hand-like wolfman things and go 'ah-oooo' on the full moon. And so far as I know they don't shift at any time other than the full moon. Or talk in furry form. Least Oz never did.”
Dawn watched as the wolf leaned back from her, still resting his paw on her knee, and shuddered slightly. The wolf looked around and down at his paws before closing his eyes once more and shuddering again. The shudder was only slightly more violent this time before he sort of sputtered out. Dawn had felt the magic in him that second time. It was weak though, like he was running on empty.
“Why aren't I shifting?” he asked himself silently. His tone was confused and slightly distressed as the wolf sat back down in front of Dawn before letting himself flop down onto the ground. He was panting slightly and the magic in him was starting to drain a bit quicker now that he was worried. Oh god, she didn't want to be responsible for Mr. Wolf's death!