The Glitch 2.0

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