I know you all have seen lots of HP/BTVS fanfics but I couldn't help myself. I'll try to make mine as unique as possible. Post-Season 7 of BTVS and Book 5 of HP.
Disclaimer: All characters, plot concepts, ideas, etc. of BTVS belong to Joss Whedon. All characters, plot concepts, ideas, etc. of HP belong to J.K. Rowling. The plot in this story is mine and some characters are mine. I don't feel like listing them. I'm pretty sure you can guess.
IMPORTANT A/N for NEW READERS: Please note that the many grammatical, comma, spelling, etc. errors are being rectified as much as possible at the moment throughout the first twenty or so chapters and probably beyond that. It's amazing what an English teacher who actually teaches can do.
What was once known as the town called Sunnydale was now nothing more than a gaping crater in the ground. Everything that once had been was now destroyed and buried under the myriad of rubble and dust. The infamous hellmouth had finally been put out of business. A yellow bus was the only vehicle to have come from the direction of Sunnydale. Everyone else had left months ago.
The younger sister of the eldest slayer sighed as she got bored with staring at the late afternoon desert and made her way to where one of the potential-turned-slayers, Jordan Firewell, sat. Dawn had been helping Buffy, Xander, Willow, Faith, and anyone else who wasn't seriously wounded help those that were seriously wounded. They had done all they could with their limited medical supplies. All they could do now was hope the girls and Robin could hang on until they got to the nearest hospital in Los Angeles.
The tall brunette cringed when she saw the state of the girl she had befriended several months ago and had become quite close to. Jordan's once beige colored jacket was now torn and covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. Her tight jeans were ripped beyond repair in many places and had numerous bloodstains. Rivulets of the sticky crimson liquid that had long since dried had run down her face from deep scratches. Blood from her three stab wounds and the chunk taken out of her shoulder was still leaking through the bandages. She was leaning against the window and Dawn could see that her eyes were closed.
"Jordan? Can you hear me?" Dawn asked anxiously. She felt her heart stop beating for a moment for fear her friend was dead.
An eyelid cracked open and Jordan turned her head to see who had spoken.
"Huh?" she said groggily.
"Oh thank God. I thought you were...." she let the sentence hang there for Jordan knew well what Dawn had thought.
"Oh, Dawn. Sorry to scare you. I'm just.....um.....a little out of it. Blood loss you know," Jordan replied.
"S'okay. Mind if I sit down?" Dawn asked.
"Knock yourself out," the auburn-haired slayer replied as she pulled herself into a sitting position. "On second thought, don't do that, your sister will freak."
Jordan smiled tiredly at the girl she had come to think of a as a sister. She had been her only friend for a while during her stay in Sunnydale. Everyone else thought she was just a little bit too peculiar. Jordan couldn't blame them, considering that she was even more unique than just being a potential.
She had the feeling that Dawn was like her too, but she couldn't be sure. Maybe the hellmouth had interfered with her signal to the Wizarding World. Wands were almost completely useless around hellmouths. The supreme darkness emanating up from a hellmouth, the sheer amount of dark, natural magic intefered with a witch or wizard's brand of magic. The Bermuda Triangle, being comprised of an entire chain of hellmouths, contained so much dark magic that wands did not work at all. Sunnydale had been almost as bad.
Jordan was one of those rare witches that also happened to have the potential for becoming a slayer within her. It was quite a rarity, according to the Watchers Council, for someone with magic already inher blood to receive the fabled essence of the Slayer. Due to slayers having been created by Wiccan magic (earth magic utilized by certain Muggles), most slayers were Muggles.
Therefore, Jordan had doubted she would ever become the Chosen One. That was just fine with her since she had no desire to carry such a burden on her shoulders and die before reaching eighteen. She especially did not wish to die in the many brutal ways she had heard her predecessors had perished. But now, she was a slayer, along with hundreds, perhaps thousands of other girls.
It was all thanks to the Wicca, Willow, who performed an awakening spell using the mystical scythe Buffy had retrieved in the vineyard right out of the vile preacher, Caleb's, hands. Jordan could not even express how relieved she was that she would not be the only one to shoulder the dismal destiny of the Slayer. Her twin brother, Aidan, whom had always been wary of her potential fate would be thrilled with this as well.
It hadn't been easy hiding her true identity over the course of her stay with the Summers. Mr. Giles, Buffy's watcher, was the only one who knew of her special background and had promised to help her if she had any trouble with Muggle ways. Luckily, Jordan had been well adept at the alternatives to magic having taken many classes on them. She found the wandless world fascinating and thought the non-magic people quite clever to have adapted to living without magic in so many ways.
"Nice to see you're still in one piece," Jordan noted. She had been a little worried about her friend fighting up on the surface. While she knew Dawn was an extraordinary fighter in her own right (after all, she grew up with one of the strongest slayers on record), the girl had no extraordinary powers like that of a slayer. It was an immense relief to see her virtually unharmed, unlike this young slayer.
"You too. Except you seem to have a few holes in you." Dawn shot her a relieved grin, but it was tinged with concern for Jordan's condition.
"Ah well. Nothing in this world's for free," she replied wryly. True, her wounds were quite agonizing and she had had problems handling the pain at first, but she had taken her potion and the pain had begun to dull a great deal.
"Amen to that," Dawn laughed.
"How's Buffy doing?" Jordan asked hesitantly.
Dawn had to think on that one. Physically, Buffy was fine, except for the wound in her stomach, but it didn't seem to bother her too much. Emotionally and mentally were another story. She had barely spoken at all after they had left Sunnydale and Dawn knew that a lot of what was weighing on her sister's mind was a certain bleach headed vampire with a soul. No thinking about him yet. You don't want to start blubbering do you?
"Is she all broken up over....him?" her friend ventured carefully.
"I don't know. She actually seems to be handling it pretty well. But then again she may not," Dawn said.
"How about you? I know you loved him like a brother," Jordan asked softly.
"I'm...dealing. Well, not with that yet. I'll do that later. I don't think I'm ready to deal with it yet. Right now I am just trying to come to grips with all that has happened," Dawn confided to her.
The young witch nodded her head in sympathy. She didn't know what she would do if something happened to her brother. Aidan was like the brains of the operation that was the Firewell Twins. He kept her grounded and sane.
Uh oh. It had been over three weeks since she had last written her family. They were going to be a little peeved when she got home.
They knew all about her being a potential. They had known since she was eight. Her parents were both aurors and were shocked but very proud when they found out their daughter might become a Chosen One. Aidan, however, had been less than happy with the news. Well, less than happy a couple years later when he finally understood what a slayer was and had to do. The rest of the family continued to live in blissful denial about the many, many cons to being a slayer. Jordan was fine with that. Let them live in denial. It sure the hell beat reality.
But now she didn't have to worry about that because the power of the slayer had been unleashed in all the potentials in the world. They could form a whole freaking army if there was enough. Kudos to Wicca girl. Sure takes a load off my mind and my brother will be happy.
"We're almost to the hospital. Are you okay?" Dawn asked.
Jordan's honey-colored eyes widened in alarm. Oh crap! She had completely forgotten about the hospital for a moment. There was no way in hell she was going to allow herself to be "treated" in there. Maybe it all worked out fine for the Muggles, but she couldn't see how cutting people up and sticking needles in them helped them. She would sit on that bus and bleed to death before she was put into that torture facility again.
Stupid Caleb. The insane woman-hating preacher had put her in the hospital the first time around. If she had been conscious, she would have protested, but sadly one can't do much after she's been thrown across a room and collides with a wooden beam. If she had been a slayer at the time, she might have come out of that skirmish awake and kicking. Unfortunately, she had only been a potential slayer at the time and therefore subject to all the weaknesses of a normal human being.
Now that Jordan was a slayer, she was able to take more damage and she healed faster. She decided to speed up her healing by drinking the potion she had specially made before she came to Sunnydale. She had used her pet phoenix, Jinx's, healing tears along with some other rejuvenating ingredients.
That was the real reason for her drowsiness. She hadn't worked the kinks out of it yet and this was actually the first time she had tried it out. The only reason she did take it was because she was almost positive she had some internal bleeding. She didn't trust her skills enough with potion making to try it out on the other girls. Also, she didn't want them to start asking questions if they started healing up instantaneously. It did make her feel a little guilty to watch many of her comrades suffer needlessly from their wounds, but she knew she it was better this way.
"Uh yeah I'm fine. In fact, I don't think I'll be needing to go to the hospital," she assured Dawn a little too casually.
"You don't look so fine to me," Dawn remarked.
Jordan couldn't blame the girl for her skepticism, but she still wasn't going to a Muggle hospital. Nothing short of an apocalypse could make her walk back in there. Or a cute Croatian doctor like on that Muggle hospital show, ER.
"Oh well I feel all right." She yawned and leaned her head against the window. "Except I'm real tired. Wake me when we get there."
Dawn nodded and sat back. Her gaze settled on her friend from time to time to make sure she was still breathing. She was perplexed over Jordan's reaction to going to the hospital. Why did the girl seem so afraid?
Dawn halted the surge of questions probing about in her mind from coming to her mouth. She didn't want to disturb her friend's much needed rest just to satisfy her own curiosity. So she resolved herself to watching over her carefully as the bus continued its journey to Los Angeles.
The sun had barely shed its wan rays through the mistyfog that encased the Granger household. Most of the occupants weresafely tucked away in their beds, guarded by theprotective walls oftheir dreams. One occupant, however, was very awake and was pacing in her room at this very moment.
Hermione Granger had been awoken by very strange dreams like nothing she had ever dreamtbefore. Her heart was still pounding from the dream-induced adrenaline and her skin was doused in a light sheen of sweat. She had started pacing her room in a frenzy of frustration after finding that she could not, try as she might, fall back asleep.
The clever young witch tried to figure out what it was that mad her feel so mysteriously different. It felt almost as if...somethign had been touched upon inside her; awakened after so many years of being buried within her. Her whole body seemed to tingle from this unseen malady. It wasn't a bad feeling. On the contrary, she felt better than she had in years. Like she had just figured out the most complicated jigsaw puzzle in the world. But the dreams...they had been so strange.
What she had dreamt of had been so bizarre, Hermione was not sure her memory was entirely accurate about it. To dream of so many girls, armed with swords, stakes, axes, and other dangerous weapons, fighting an entire army of monstrous creatures looking like they were constructed by some macabre machination, was not something Hermione Granger experienced. If anything, Harry was the one in her trio of friends who experienced the weird dreams. Why would she dream such events and experience the emotions triggered by such a dream that she was experiencing now? Her body shivered from remembering the horrific things that befell some of the girls and her own strange desire to join in the fighting.
The girl wracked her brain for explanations of the dream. She had had her fair share of mysteries and intricate puzzles in the past that it was coming to be evident that not much could get past her. This could have been a vision or it could have been something that already came to pass. It couldn't have taken place too long ago because all the girls had been dressed in present day clothing. Come on, Hermione, you've heard of something like this before. Girls with stakes, axes, and swords. Why does that ring a bell?
Then the proverbial light bulb finally made its presence known by shedding light on the question. Vampire Slayer! That was the only thing that explained the amazing skill with which the girls fought and the strength they demonstrated. But there is only supposed to be one, Hermione thought with a frown creasing her brow.
She had learned about the Vampire Slayer in her Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She even remembered having the topic on an exam. What does a girl first experience when she is chosen as a slayer? The question didn't seem all that important then. But now Hermione regarded that question in a new light.
She opened up her trunk where she kept all her school supplies and books and pulled out her Defense Against the Dark Arts book and flipped to the section on slayers. Her hands were shaking slightly as she tried to blot out the implications everything concerning her dreams being connected with the Vampire Slayer were trying to tell her. She was not yet ready to face those frightening revelations.
"Here it is," she mumbled to herself as she sat at her desk and switched on her lamp.
The Vampire Slayer
Possibly one of the greatest enigmas in this world is the mystical being known as the Vampire Slayer or theChosen One, as some people like to call her. She is a human girl between the ages of fifteen and twenty that is gifted with strength beyond that of any human, as well assuperior fighting ability, quick reflexes, swift healing abilities, and heightened senses.
Her intended duty is as her title says, to fight vampires and demons or any other such foul creature that threatens the safety of humanity until her death. Naturally, the time between being called and the time of death are not that far apart. When one slayer dies, the essence of the Slayeris immediately passed on to another girl to replace her.
The origin of the Slayer is clouded. Some say that she has existed as long as vampires have, others say she was created by a group of witches and wizards hundreds of years afterward. Sources indicate that it is, in fact, Wiccan (Muggle magic) magic that is responsible for the existence of the slayer. That may account for the fact that most slayers are Muggles, although there have been cases of witches being chosen, however rare they are.
An organization known as the Watchers Council serves as the caretakers of the slayer legacy. Most are Muggles, but there are a few witches and wizards that are a part of it. All persons apart of the Council are made aware of the Wizarding World should a witch be chosen as the Slayer.
Whenever a new slayer is called, the Council sends out a trained professional called a watcher to find the girl and train and prepare her for her destiny. Many watchers are assigned to "potential slayers" or girls who might become slayers. Preparing them before the calling has proved to increase their lifespan, but not by much.
The most common "symptom" of being called as the Chosen One are the graphic and often frightening dreams of the foes she must face. Many slayers experience prophetic dreams during their lives that serve as another example of their power.
There are still many questions about the Vampire Slayer that the Muggle and Wizarding world alike have failed to answer. One thing we know for certain is that the slayer carries a high and lonely destiny.
Hermione slammed the book shut and tried to stand up as fear unlike anything she had ever felt filled her. Her legs didn't seem to want to support her for the moment so she sat back down into her chair. She put a shaking hand to her forehead and tried to calm herself. Come now, Hermione, don't lose your wits. I am sure there is an entirely logical explanation for those dreams and one that does not include you being a newly called slayer in anyway. You're a witch. Witches are rarely chosen as slayers.
I wish I could ask someone about this. She didn't want to talk to Ron about it because, well, this wasn't something in his area of expertise. She loved him, but he had the tendency to act irrationally when situations like these popped up. She would ask Harry because he would know what she might be going through and he also had experience with bad dreams. But she didn't want to bother him with this right now right after losing his godfather.
Her best friend's letters were brief and irregular, making Hermione want to waltz over to Privet Drive and demand to see him, but he needed his space. So, instead she started thinking, What would Harry do? Of course! Write to Dumbledore! He'll know what to do. She smacked herself in the head for not thinking of it sooner.
She began drafting a letter to Dumbledore on parchment asking of his advice and guidance. After she finished she tied it up and left it in her desk drawer to wait for one of her friends owls to deliver a letter. She knew they wouldn't mind her borrowing them for a little while.
Hermione glanced out of her bedroom window with a sigh. The sun was rising higher into the sky and she had barely slept three hours. But oddly enough, she didn't feel tired at all. She changed out of her nightclothes and resolved to postpone putting her slayer theory to the test after she received Dumbledore's reply. She wasn't normally one to procrastinate, but in situations like this allowances must be made.