FicWad

Buffy Summers is your favorite Slayer. The other one went into a coma for eight months and had serious mental issues. The other one turned insane and worked for a crazy mayor who attempted to eat metallic bugs and go through an Ascension, where he would turn into a raw demon. Nope, that other Slayer…she was never the one that you wanted to talk about. She was the Slayer that had gone badly.

But what if Faith wasn’t crazy, not all the way, anyway? What if there was a reason that she woke up from a coma other than sheer luck? What if she was never the same again?

And Sirius Black is your favorite Marauder. He was playful, fun and loved his pranks, at least when he was in Hogwarts. He also had his serious side, pun intended.

But in the Department of Mysteries, while Sirius was dueling Bellatrix Lestrange, he met his final end.

At least in Harry’s world.

Now he’s in Sunnydale, California. His magic barely works. He somehow knows some fighting tricks. His look is totally different.

But his memory stays the same.

Willow Rosenberg has always been your favorite witch. But now, she’s raising some questions that nobody can answer. Not even Giles. Willow has always been able to do odd things, even before Giles started teaching her magic tricks. It’s made her think that maybe other people are that way too.

Oz has always been your favorite werewolf—until he leaves to go to a remote area of Washington. But instead of getting away from things, he meets rare breeds of vampires and werewolves. He can’t understand how they work, and he’s not sure he likes them.

Worlds will collide after Sirius falls through the veil. But the question is, will anything ever stay the same?




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~Sirius~

I wasn’t myself.

That was all I could figure out. That and the fact that I could not open my eyes. I could feel them moving and moving underneath my eyelids, but they would not bloody open.
I did not feel like myself.

That must be hard to explain when you can’t move, you can’t see, you can barely hear, but you can think over and over again and the thoughts do not feel like your own. Phrases like five by five kept popping in there.

I thought I was crazy.

But then again, I could bloody feel when I was going to wake up. My heart, so loud in the silence that surrounded me, began beating faster and faster. My eyes kept moving underneath those eyelids that were not my own. I could have counted the seconds to when my eyes would open, like a pipe bomb to when I would figure out who I was.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

And just on time, my eyes popped open.

The first thing I would have done was go straight to a mirror, and then to an insane asylum f I was not myself, Sirius Black. The funny thing was I seemed entirely sane. My thoughts were clear. My actions—well, I was actually lying in a hospital bed somewhere—well, I wanted to get to Harry.

Well, what was the last thing I remembered? I’d been dueling with Bellatrix, I remembered that. Then I’d—damn, I couldn’t believe I’d done that—had started laughing, and her curse had hit me.

And I’d fallen.

Well, I was Sirius Black, after all, and sitting still in a hospital bed never seemed right. Even if this was a Muggle hospital. So I sat up and pulled the tubes that the nutter Muggle doctors had sewed into me out and walked barefoot down the dirty hallway. I was hoping to the point of no return that I wouldn’t run into anyone, but no luck. A pretty Asian girl walked through the door. She was wearing a red coat and flip flops. I was sure that I looked absolutely crazy to her, and she offered to take me to a doctor.

“No,” I said, a little too quickly. “No, I’m fine.”

She nodded, but my inner conscience was beating me up. I needed to take her clothes and get out of there. What happened next? Well, it was like a dream. It was like my personality took a backside and my inner conscience acted up.

God, what was happening to me? Did I have some crazy Muggle disease that I’d gotten from falling through that bloody curtain?

The alter ego punched the girl in the face. Stripped her—and I was very careful not to look, however much I wanted to—and took her clothes. It was funny. I still couldn’t see myself.

The other-me strode out the door of the hospital without a shred of guilt. That’s when it happened. It was like going down a slide, except you were going upwards. And I was back into my body, whatever or whoever that was.