No Place like Home: Into the Looking Glass
by Ghost Writer
May 19, 2006
Our dimension


She’d been tossing and turning since she’d gone to bed at ten. She sighed then looked at the clock on her nightstand; 2:30A.M. She sighed again and looked back at the ceiling, more sighing. Sleep continued to elude her. Her wandering restless mind had discovered just how meaningless her life was and refused to let the thought go. She sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that night then rolled over and came face-to-face with…
“What the hell?!”
Whistler replaced the ceramic unicorn he’d been studying and turned to her.
“Nice place. I’m not much for livin’ with the folks but what can ya do?”
She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.
“Who…How...What the Hell?!”
“Three very good questions. I’m Whistler, but then again, you already knew that.”
He motioned to the shelf that housed her collection of Buffy and Angel DVDs.
“As for the how, I’m a demon kid, what can I say?” He shrugged as though that explained everything. “Now here comes the what. You’re gonna die tomorrow, unless you make a choice. You’ve got Potential and if you’d been born…elsewhere you’d be using it instead of moping around in bed moaning about how your life sucks.”
Silence stretched as each waited for the other to speak.
“And?” she prompted.
Whistler picked up Angel season 5.
“In case you hadn’t noticed the odds were pretty much stacked against ole Ange and his boys.”
“Yeah, so? It’s a TV show.”
“In this dimension.”
“Oh, obviously.” The sarcasm was thick but Whistler ignored it.
“How’d you like to help ‘em?”
She blinked at him.
“Huh?”
“Right now, you say the word and you’re there. Your money, your car,” He scanned the room, her collection of statuettes jammed onto every clear space. “The bare essentials of your stuff at the Hyperion and you in that alley fighting with ‘em.”
“Okay, assuming that this isn’t just some weird-ass dream I’m having, what could I possibly do against that? I mean, I failed self-defense class.”
“Like I said, you got Potential…there. Here you die in a car crash in…”
He checked the clock.
“Four hours. You say the word and I turn your Potential into a reality.”
/let’s see, have a life or die tomorrow, hmm…/
She looked up at him.
“Word.”
He grinned.
“Um, normal street clothes are a part of this bargain, right?”

May 19, 2004
The Buffyverse

It was cold, it was raining, and she was standing barefoot in an alley of questionable sanitation; oh well, at least she had jeans on.
/okay, not a dream/
She turned to Whistler.
“I’m barefoot and have zero fighting skills. I hope you don’t expect much from me except bleeding and dying.”
He chuckled and handed her a sword.
“Just listen to your gut and follow your instincts.”
She nervously licked her lips and took the blade as the sounds of battle reached her ears.
“Right.”
“You’ll do fine,” the demon reassured her.
“Since when are you the comforting type?” she asked.
He shrugged again.
/That’s getting really annoying/ she thought then staggered slightly as a wave of vertigo hit her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little dizzy.”
“You’re a Slayer by the way.”
Whistler turned and walked out of sight, leaving the speechless young woman behind.
“Ookay,” she said, then took a steadying breath, turned and took off toward the unearthly shrieks assailing her ears.




It was all instinct, no room for thought. Swing, duck, thrust, punch, swing. Spike was on autopilot, doing his best to stay alive…or undead at least, when the coldest breeze he’d ever felt swept through the alley. He ignored it until the demon he hit shattered and fell in frozen chunks to the ground. Everything had stopped, the demons literally frozen in their tracks. He looked around, confused, then spotted Illyria close by and Angel and Gunn further off, the older vampire guarding his friend.
“Blue?” he asked.
She waded through the motionless demons, shattering them as she went.
“This is not of my doing.”
“I’m not sure how,” an unfamiliar female voice said. “But I think it’s mine.”
The owner of the voice stepped forward, and stopped by Angel. She was glowing softly.
“Hi,” she waved. “I’m Sarah.”
This close Angel realized that the newcomer wasn’t glowing, the streetlights were reflecting off of the thin layer of frost that covered her from head to bare toes. Illyria stepped forward and towered over the other woman by sheer presence alone. Sarah backed up as the demon studied her.
“What manner of being are you?” she demanded then cocked her head to one side. “You are not of this plain.”
“No I’m from another dimension. Whistler he…”
“Whistler?” Angel asked.
“Yeah, he showed up in my bedroom not even ten minutes ago and brought me here.” She shrugged. “I’m supposed to help.”
“Great,” Gunn said. “You boys are gonna need all the help you can get.”
He coughed then winced in pain and Angel gave the other man a worried look.
Illyria studied Sarah.
“You are a Champion in your land?”
“Not exactly,” she said looking somewhat sheepish.
“Come again?” Spike asked.
“Not so much Champion as college dropout and department store employee.”
The men all gaped at her.
“What does this mean?” Illyria asked.
“It means they think the world’s screwed,” Sarah replied. “Okay look. I realize that I’m not exactly what you were expecting but Whistler brought me here for a reason and I seriously doubt that it was for me to get in the way and die horribly. He kept saying that I had potential, he said that if I’d been born elsewhere that I’d be using it instead of moaning about my sucky life and what?”
Illyria was staring at her again.
“The frost has gone.”
Sarah studied her hand.
“Okay, this is bad.”
“Why’s that?” Spike asked.
“When I went all frosty the demons froze, now that I’m not I didn’t think that they will be for much longer either.”
“Can’t you just get icy again?”
“I don’t even know how I did it the first time!”
“How can you not know?” he demanded.
“Easy!”
“Guys!” Angel broke in.
“What?!” The two rounded on him. He pointed behind them as a roar cut the air.
“Oh crap!”





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