The Glitch 2.0

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.

TBC