Disclaimer: I do not own JoJo's Bizarre Adventure; the copyrights for such belong to Hirohiko Araki and, Lucky Land Communications. The character of Sarah does, however.

Go ask Alice

Her last, concrete memory was of the crash itself: the screech of grinding plastic as her bike had skidded across the road, and the brief sight of asphalt through the polarized visor of her helmet. After that, there'd been nothing; nothing for a long time. But now, now that she was starting to become aware of her surroundings again, the first thing she was aware of was the dark.

Deep, fathomless dark, permeated by warmth; it was almost like being in her bed back at home, but at the same time she was aware of another presence; not at all like being back at home.

The next few moments – hell, the next day, practically – was filled with confounding stimuli: extremes of light and dark, and the nonsensical babbling of a language she couldn't quite manage to grasp. She thought, for a moment, that she'd managed to pick out some of what the people around her were saying – there seemed to be two of them for the most part, so that made things easier – but she also found herself getting more and more hungry during the short stretches of time when she actually conscious to feel anything.

She was also becoming far more conscious of the place where she was: it was a bare room where she, and the other small form she'd become more and more aware of during the times she'd been able to stay awake, were left alone for large stretches of time during what seemed to be the day.

She hadn't had much of a chance to see the outside of the building she and the other person – what seemed to be a baby; a baby the same size as she was, so that was one more thing that she'd managed to realize about where she was now – were staying in, so she still didn't know where she was in any real sense. She knew where she wasn't, of course: she wasn't anywhere near her old house, in a hospital, and she was starting to suspect that she wasn't even in California anymore. It was all of the distinct accents surrounding her whenever she'd been awake.

It sounded like she was somewhere in England, or at least in a place that had a lot of people with that accent living there.

She didn't know just which she would have preferred, since it really didn't matter considering the fact that – as she was now fully aware at this point – she'd died in the motorcycle crash she'd only been able to remember in bits and pieces during the times she'd been sleeping, and was now living some other life as an infant in this strange, new place. The woman came back into the room, just as she'd been starting to feel both hungry and more than a bit tired, so that was something.

Closing her eyes as the woman picked her and the other baby up, she relaxed into the woman's hold as she felt warm breath on her face for only the second time that day.

=PB=

The days blurred into weeks, and the weeks into months as she became more aware of her surroundings; she also became aware of something just a bit more… problematic about where she currently was. Her new name was Alice, and while that was all fine and good on its own, the name of the kid who was apparently her new brother was Dio. She didn't know if the family's last name was Brando, but it was much more of an uncomfortable possibility than she'd ever considered previously. Being related to Dio fucking Brando wasn't really something that she was prepared to deal with, but if that was what she was going to be forced to deal with then she'd deal.

Relaxing into her new mother's arms as the woman came back, Sarah – she'd had fifteen years of being Sarah Williams, as opposed to the few months she'd spent as Alice, so that was naturally the first name she thought of when she thought of herself – smiled up at her. She was really the only one that seemed to have any kind of interest in their welfare; she didn't know if she and Dio were being raised by a single parent or if her and Dio's father was the type to always be away on business, but as she adjusted to using her hearing over her still-adjusting sight to determine things about her new world, Sarah began to notice that her new mother seemed sad about something. Her voice also seemed… fragile, somehow.

It wasn't the best sign in the world, that there was something her new mother feared enough that she was attempting to make herself small and unobtrusive in a clear effort to avoid it.

=PB=

Over the next few months or so, Sarah found that her new family's last name was indeed Brando; one more thing not to like about waking up after dying in a motorcycle crash and finding herself in a new family, in a new body, and a new world to go with it. To say nothing of the fact that she was pretty obviously in the Phantom Blood portion of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, and hence somewhere in England during the 1800s. Being a young girl – to say nothing of growing into a woman – in 1800s London was going to be… an interesting experience, if nothing else.

Still, even if this wasn't the life she'd life she'd have chosen – if she'd been given the choice at all – this was the one she'd been given; so best adapt and survive.

Her first impression of Dario Brando would have been – if she hadn't already known what an abject shit stain of an excuse for a human being, to say nothing of a father he truly was – that he was a fairly unobtrusive man. He wasn't around long enough for her to form any other opinions about, so all she really had to go on were the Wiki articles she'd read, internet memes, and the occasional forum thread she'd read. The Stardust Crusaders OVA certainly hadn't talked much about Dario, and she hadn't actually read the manga itself. Her younger-older brother had suggested it to her as the kind of thing she'd be interested in, considering her general taste, and she'd been considering at least giving it a chance since she'd liked some of what she'd seen of Stardust Crusaders. Mostly the parts with Dio, since he was one of those villains you really loved to hate.

Here and now, however… well, if fate was an actual entity in this world, she was going to find it and punch it in the face.

She continued to catch only brief glimpses of Dario Brando as she grew back into toddler hood, but there always seemed to be a certain hunger in his eyes when he would look at her. He seemed fairly indifferent to Dio, not that that was a much better prospect than having his interest, but the hungry look in Dario's eyes whenever he looked at her… Yeah, Sarah didn't see their relationship ending remotely well.

Of course, considering that her brother from Before had told her that Dio had poisoned his father… yeah, Dario wasn't long for the world in any case.

Growing up once more into a girl of six, Sarah found Dario taking a… rather more personal interest in her. The man would try to get her to come with him to the hotel where he seemed to spend most of his time at. She didn't know just what he'd been planning, just what he had in mind, but the chances of it being anything good were pretty much nil. Her suspicions, such as they were, were only reinforced by the man that Dario had brought her to meet.

She didn't think much of either of them, and given how quickly the man seemed to lose interest in her as she watched him with careful, shrewd eyes, Sarah had the distinct feeling she'd managed to upset more than a few of his plans. She could take some solace in that, since she'd known full well what Dario had been planning by the time the pair of them had left the hotel. Dario didn't seem particularly happy, but she didn't care much for the man's opinion, since she already knew that she was going to have to deal with him.

Eventually, the two of them made it back to the small house where their family all lived, Sarah was forced to dodge a punch – not just an annoyed swat, but a punch – from Dario as the pair of them stepped back inside. Glaring back up at him as he saw the dull, impotent rage on Dario's face as he stared down at her, she scoffed. When he tried punching her again, Sarah quickly dodged and stood back from the older man, flicking her eyes quickly over him to determine if he might do anything else. Like most bullies of his type, however, he didn't seem to relish the thought of getting into a struggle.

And a struggle was what he was going to get if he tried that kind of shit again.

With a last, hateful look in her direction – she was sorely tempted to sneer right back at him, but that would have just caused trouble she didn't need at the moment – Dario stomped into the back of their humble little house. Sighing in supreme annoyance once Dario had passed out of earshot, Sarah made her way to the room that she and Dio shared with each other. Her twin's eyes snapped to her, and she smiled; Dio might have been the "bad guy" of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, but here and now he was her brother and it was easy for her to love him.

Even considering the little she knew about Dio's role in the story, living with him for six years over the course of their six years of life had given her a distinct protective streak. She supposed it fit, since the two of them were family; anyone would come to love the little guy after spending six years of their life with him.

The sound of someone large coming toward the room they both shared drew Sarah's attention, and the sound of large, heavy, slightly clumsy footsteps let her know that Dario wasn't going to be satisfied with just glaring at her for a bit.

"Dio, I want you to get under the bed," she said, glancing briefly at the door before turning her full attention to her brother; he had snapped to attention at the same time as she had, hearing those footsteps and knowing what they meant just as well as she did.

"No," Dio said, a stubborn look on his face. "You keep protecting me all the time, Lissy," Dio said, his lips turning down stubbornly. "I'm staying here."

She sighed, knowing that she didn't have time for an argument; Dario was almost there. "You know I have a higher pain-tolerance than you do," she said, giving him a sidelong look before she was forced to turn her attention back to the door.

Folding her arms and narrowing her eyes as Dario stormed into their room, Sarah scoffed as the man reached back to slap her. It was fairly simple to duck his first, flailing attempt – the back-handed blow that seemed to be his favored tactic for dealing with her and Dio – and she smirked in response to the anger twisting his features. He really was pathetic; she fully understood why Dio had killed him back in the story-that-was. Ducking and weaving out of the way of Dario's further attempts, each of them seeming more pathetically clumsy than the last. There was really nothing she could respect about Dario Brando at all.

Sinking her teeth into the drunken idiot's right wrist when he had the misfortune to stumble too close to her, Sarah ground her jaw to inflict as much pain as she could manage in spite of her comparatively small stature; she'd long since gotten over the fact that she was no longer just over six feet tall, but she'd have been lying if she said she didn't miss it. When Dario reflexively dropped her to the floor, she climbed right back up the man, grabbing fistfulls of his clothes to anchor herself as she made her way up.

She'd officially had enough; enough of Dario's constant bullshit, enough of living with the constant uncertainty as to what kind of hair-brained, half-baked idea he was going to pull out of his ass next, and more than enough of trying to protect herself, Dio, and Charlena from his drunken rampages.

Slamming her right fist into Dario's throat, Sarah drew back and punched again. She didn't know just how much her six-year-old body weighed – she'd never had the chance to find out, and that kind of thing had been unimportant in the grand scheme of things – but Sarah focused on putting all of her weight behind her blows, nonetheless. She knew that, if she just kept pounding, even with her smaller body and comparative lack of strength, she could collapse Dario's trachea and kill the fucker.

She noticed, after Dario had fallen to his back on the floor, Dio's small fists joining in with hers as she continued to pummel Dario. It took some time for Dario to stop thrashing, at least enough that Sarah was able to climb on top of him and slap her hands over his over his mouth and nose to stop him getting any of the air he was going to so desperately need after having his throat ruthlessly pummeled for so long. Kneeling atop Dario's chest, holding her hands over Dario's nose and mouth, Sarah saw Dio's hands settling over her own.

Smiling faintly as she felt the warmth of her twin brother's hands, Sarah felt the smile slide off of her face as she caught sight of Dario's eyes; he finally seemed to have realized that she wasn't playing around.

His eyes, already filled with fear, began to widen, and then to roll back into his head as he lost consciousness. Sarah knew that she wasn't going to be rid of him so easily; she knew that it took at least ten minutes to kill someone by depriving them of oxygen, but she also knew that what she was seeing now was an important step in realizing her current goal. Continuing to press down on Dario's mouth and nose, cutting him off from the life-giving oxygen that might just have been enough to save him even at this late stage, Sarah caught sight of Dio's increasingly wild grin.

She wasn't remotely surprised that he was enjoying this, since she knew full well what kind of man Dario Brando had been, and more than that, what kind of man Dio had been Before; looked like he still had some of those traits.

Once their work was done, Sarah smiled at Dio as her brother asked what they were going to do with the body. Figuring that no one would really miss the greedy old drunkard, Sarah suggested that they dump him in one of the alleys he'd probably ended up sleeping off more than a few hangovers during his time. Dio agreed quickly, and seemed almost happy about the prospect of leaving Dario Brando to rot in an alley somewhere. Sarah didn't have to think long on why.

"Oi, where're you little bits goin'?"

"We're taking Daddy to get some air," she said, offering the strange man who'd come to stare at them after they'd made it a fair distance from their small house. "He drank up the bottles, and then he fell down, but if he gets some air he should be all right."

"Right, then," the man said, chuckling. "Off you go."

"Lissy," Dio said, once the man had passed out of sight. "Why did you say that? You know what we did."

"Best to avoid complications at this stage, Dio," she said, as the two of them made their way into a darker, more deserted part of the small town where they lived.

Dio didn't seem to have a response for that, so Sarah turned her attention back to the new plans that she was making. It was all well and good that they were rid of Dario now, but even with all of his many, many faults, he'd still been the main breadwinner for their small family. Still, she'd done more than her share of odd-jobs Before, and it wasn't like this place lacked for things to be done.

She and Dio quickly returned home, and Charlena didn't ask where they'd been; one didn't ask many questions in the Brando household, though that was just one of many things that was bound to change with Dario out of the picture.

=PB=

Sure enough, over the next few weeks – after she'd sold most of her long, blonde hair to a rather surprised wig-maker, and acquired more masculine clothing – Sarah was able to steadily build a reputation as a reliable go-fer-about-town. It wasn't the most high-paying work, most of the jobs she could take at her current age were delivering letters, ferrying tools about, and on a few memorable occasions tallying up inventory for one merchant or another, but it paid enough for her purposes. And, in the end, it helped to ease at least some of the burden on Charlena without Dario around.

When she had some spare money from her various jobs, Sarah would use it to buy charcoal and paper for herself so that she would have at least something to do during those few moments when she had the time to sit down and sketch. She drew some of what she could remember from Before, but only enough that she wouldn't be called on to explain things that people here wouldn't have any concept of. And, the only place Sarah would take the chance to sketch certain things that she remembered from Before was in the room that she shared with Dio.

Her brother knew that she didn't want anyone else to know about what she was drawing, and she compensated him by telling him some of the things in her drawings that he had context for.

Naturally, people took notice of her when she was drawing, and it only took a few days before some of those people started asking for sketches of their own. A lot of them simply wanted sketches of themselves, but there were a select few who wanted her to recreate a place they had seen before; she made it a point to negotiate for extra money with those.

"Alice," Charlena said, one night when the last of the crowds had left the restaurant where she worked and Alice helped out around. "Do you think… well, might you be able to stay here now?"

"Depends on how much money I can get from these, as opposed to the odd-jobs I get around town," she said, briefly looking up at her mother before returning her attention to cleaning up for the night.

Much as she would have enjoyed the extra downtime, there were still things that needed to be done; cleaning was a job that never really ended.

"Would you," Charlena paused for a moment, and Sarah looked back to see her mother gathering herself as though to say something difficult. "Alice, do you think you would be interested in taking art classes?"

"I don't know if I'd have the time," she said, not seeing any reason to lie. "With all the things that need doing around here."

That was the trouble with living without all of the labor-saving devices she'd grown so used to having during the course of her life Before: all of those things had been invented for a reason, and the more she was forced to live without them the more Sarah found herself wishing that she could have somehow replicated them in some fashion.

"You really don't have to do so much around this place, if you don't want to," Charlena said. "That is to say, I truly do appreciate everything you've been doing for the family, Alice, but a young girl like you should have the opportunity to live her own life," Charlena looked down slightly, muttering something that Sarah didn't quite catch.

"You sure, mum?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, curious. "It's no trouble working, here and outside."

"Yes; that's fine. I'm your mother Alice," Charlena said, reaching out to grip Sarah's shoulders, a saddened expression on her face, though she was obviously still trying to smile. "You shouldn't have to work to take care of me, I should be the one taking care of you."

She smiled softly. "All right, Mum. If that's what would make you happy."

Without another word, Charlena hugged her tightly, and Sarah embraced the woman in turn.

Without Dario around, causing trouble and conflict for their little family, Dio and Charlena both seemed to be much happier people. Dio was still an unrepentant troll, however; the pair of them had bonded all the more closely over two things: her and Dio's love of trolling, and her own interest in cooking. Dio had been a bit surprised when she asked him to taste the beef stew that she'd made when the winter snows started settling in around them, but he'd ended up loving it when she'd shared it with him.

He'd fallen eagerly into the role of taste-tester for those dishes that she remembered from Before, or at least those that she could recreate using the ingredients that she could actually obtain in late 1800s London; so, mostly stews and soups, really. Not that she wasn't craving so many of the dishes she'd eaten Before, but Sarah had had ten years to resign herself to the fact that it would be a long time – if ever – before she had a chance to eat anything like those dishes again.

Sitting at her easel, putting the finishing touches on a sunset-seascape she'd been working on for the past handful of days, Sarah heard the sounds of two people having a quiet discussion somewhere near the front of the room. Since she already had something to do, and since she knew that one of those people – being her mother, Charlena – would have come over to get her if there was something she needed to hear about, Sarah tabled her curiosity and turned her attention back to her work. She could always ask Charlena what she'd been talking about later.

The sight of a shadow falling across her canvas, for only a brief time before the one casting it stepped out of the way, let Sarah know that there was someone else – besides Charlena, who didn't tend to stand so close to her while she was trying to work in the first place – who was standing in the room with her.

"Young lady," the man said, once she'd finished painting and turned to see that it was in fact a man. "My name is George Joestar. I met your father when he saved me from a terrible fate, and I made him a promise on that day: that I would see to the care of his family if he were unable to do so, for any reason at all. When I found out that Dario was no longer with us, I knew that it was my duty as a gentleman to see to the care of his remaining family."

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Joestar," she said, turning away from her completed painting and smiling at the mustachioed man; she might not have known him from Before, but at the very least she knew the name Joestar.

"Come, we'll gather your brother, and I'll have some people along to bring these fantastic paintings of yours," George said, smiling brightly at her before turning to take in the studio where she had been working.

=PB=

Jonathan was waiting with Father for the new family that had come to live with them, a family with the surname Brando; apparently Dario Brando had done a kindness for his father, and now that Dario was no longer with them, Father had offered to let his remaining family stay at the estate. According to what Father had said, the family consisted of only the mother and her two children, now. Jonathan was glad to have some others his age around the house; the servants could be fine company, but they didn't often have the time to spend with him that he would have preferred.

It would be a nice thing, to have some others his own age to spend time with.

When the carriage that was to bring the Brando family to the Joestar estate came rolling to a neat stop just up the path from their mansion, Jonathan smiled brightly as the carriage doors swung open. When a blond boy jumped out of the near door, carrying a blonde girl in his arms, Jonathan didn't quite know what to think. He was even more startled when the girl reached up and bopped the boy on the head.

"Dio, you oversized ham, put me down!"

It didn't sound like the girl was actually angry with Dio, but when he set her back down on the ground she did chase him around a bit. The pair of them circled around the taller woman who was clearly the mother of the two siblings, right up until Father came up and told the both of them to settle down and show some decorum. Father always seemed to be saying that, but until today Jonathan had always been the one getting that kind of lecture.

It was almost refreshing, but when he remembered how rotten he himself had always felt when he had been the one on the receiving end of Father's lectures, Jonathan immediately felt guilty about even thinking such a thing.

"Good afternoon," he said, making his way over to where Dio, his twin sister Alice, and their mother Charlena had all gathered together.

He hoped that making a good first impression on the small family who was soon to become a part of their own would help to erase the shame he could still feel, given his unseemly joy at the prospect of not being the focus of Father's ire for once. As it turned out, neither Dio nor Alice had been as affected by Father's ire as Jonathan himself could remember being, but for all that the pair of them were rather well-mannered. There was a hint of mischief in both of their sparkling, almost copper-colored eyes, and hence Jonathan began to think that perhaps Father's lecture hadn't been nearly so trying to either of them as it had been when he had been subjected to such.