Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and DC Comics characters are the property of their original owners.
Turning in her seat at the living room table in her home to stare at the kitchen doorway where the abrupt flash of white light had just come from, Dawn called out, “Xan, what was that?”
“Noth-- Nothing! Nothing at all!” was the sudden panicky answer from inside that room, as received by the young girl who’d been described by Xander Harris mere seconds ago as extraordinary, right before he’d gone into the kitchen. Well, being thought of as unusual and deserving attention due to her wonderful nature by someone she loved like a brother was really fantastic, but that wasn’t now as important as the very odd voice coming from the place where Xan had to be sharing with someone else at this exact moment. Particularly since Dawn had never before in her entire life heard that particular voice.
Whoever had just said this had started off with a woman’s normal high voice, to then hastily interrupt herself in mid-word as this stranger tried to continue while pitching her voice much deeper to resemble a man’s proper timbre, so that it wound up sounding like a really bad imitation of Xander. Puzzled, Dawn started to get up from the table, only to freeze in her tracks at a stern command from the kitchen delivered in that same pretend voice: “Dawn Marie Summers, you stay right there! There’s nothing to worry about, so go back to whatever you were doing--”
Straightening up so rapidly her chair skidded backwards with a scraping noise, Dawn whirled around and strode towards the kitchen, an angry scowl on her face. She’d gone through enough of a rough day already, what with thinking herself to be a Potential, only to find out it’d been all a big mistake and it was Amanda who had the chance to become a Slayer. Now, there was some kind of weird thing happening in the kitchen, and she was going to find out what it was, or else!
As she stomped towards the kitchen doorway, the younger Summers sister then heard from there a woman’s glum voice speaking to herself, “Yeah, like that was gonna work! Look, Dawn, I want to say right off, I still stand by what I said, about you being extraordinary, so please don’t kill me over my Chaos magic having a little fun!”
Stopping dead in her tracks in the doorway, Dawn’s mouth fell open in sheer amazement, as she gawked at the apologetic young woman there in the kitchen. Looking back with a very rueful expression on her Amerindian features, this total stranger wearing a pale yellow costume fitting close as a skin of paint on her trim figure now sighed, “What really frosts my chops about the whole stupid situation that resulted in you seeing me like this, is that I can’t ever again use my favorite nickname for you, Dawnie!”
Not really paying attention to that, Joyce Summers’ youngest daughter, who was poetically named after the break of day, just wordlessly stared at what now reached across the entire kitchen: the enormous, white-feathered wings growing out of the upper back of somebody who’d just turned into one of the members of the Legion of Super-Heroes which had no code name. Instead, this native of the 30th century used her real name of Dawnstar.