Chapter Text
In patriarchal societies where the womb envy is at its highest, men are deemed the ones who understand the world and all the power it can hold. But every single one cannot deny that the ground they stand on is known all over as Mother Earth.
That the ones they rely on and will forever need are women.
They tried forging a warrior through a boy and then a man and every single time they failed. Each one lacks an essence that no man could wish for or beat into themselves.
When they tried their spells on two older women, their experiment did not birth the results they wanted. They were difficult to control and still lacked an ability.
It wasn't until the dark minded among them suggested something sinister.
An evil suggestion that should have been tossed out but instead was encouraged and now a legacy of young girls must live with their reckless consequences.
It took the power of five ignorant beings, demons blood and the stars aligning to create the world's first Slayer.
A girl with a strength greater than fifty men combined. Inhuman stamina, agility, a healing factor that could mend broken bones in days.
But most of all, a sixth sense that would alert her through the womb she carries to the presence of the supernatural no matter how hard they tried to hide.
The Slayer was a force to reckoned with and thousands of years later, evil beings still tremble upon hearing the name.
***
Sunnydale felt like it was in the middle of nowhere at times.
The small city, which got its status in the 1960s, was pleasant most days. With its typical suburban homes in nice American neighborhoods.
Little boxes on the hillside made of ticky tacky as per usual in southern California.
There was a booming downtown with at least a dozen mom and pop shops that were sort of thriving due to luxury boutiques that were just added.
It was a pleasant little city if you of course ignore the high murder rate and dismemberment count.
A teeny, tiny flaw of Sunnydale is that the damn place sat right on top of a freaking Hellmouth. Where all sorts of insanely evil big nasties would pop up in or would attract from all over like flies on shit.
From demons to vampires to sorcerers looking to take out their daddy issues on someone else, the hellmouth brought all the big and sometimes little bads to this fake happy little city.
And that's where Francesca Bridgerton comes in. An autistic pianist with a quick wit and type A personality.
The last child of a divorced single mother and a father she hadn't seen since she was seven.
At sixteen years old, she was called. The night of her piano recital no less. Right in the middle of her piece, she felt the release of the raw chaotic power flow through her limbs. All at once her senses, which were already sensitive to begin with, enhanced to a searing level that caused her to finally halt her playing.
Flashes of another person perishing, an indigenous woman and then memories and knowledge born from five thousand years of lived experiences flooded her brain.
She grabbed her head and stumbled to the wings behind the curtains on the stage and somehow made it outside with her sister Eloise following her.
“Frannie, what's wrong?”
And that's when she met him.
Rupert Giles. A Watcher.
Another man sent to guide Francesca on what it meant to be a Slayer. To be the force of good against the forces of evil. He told her of the prophecy and the gift that had been passed down to her.
Giles gave her the whole spiel with a British theatrical cadence that would have impressed most people.
Both girls just looked at him like he had wings for ears.
Francesca tilted her head at him in confusion before saying, “Oh whoa, creepy old man, sir. You just said a lot of stuff. Is there any way we can pause all of this talk of the undead and demons until Friday? I have an exam in English tomorrow and I have to pass if I want to keep my GPA at a 4.2.”
Giles took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose for the first time in utter exasperation.
The poor man didn't know this would be a common theme in their relationship.
***
Michaela Stirling had just turned seventeen when she was called to be a Slayer. Living on the streets in Queens after her parents had kicked out their only child from the fancy Brownstone in Chelsea for bringing a girl home.
The young Black girl with box braids and an attitude was in between couches to crash on when she saw three men drag another girl into an alley.
She's small but even before her powers kicked in, Michaela was a force you couldn't ignore.
She cracked a beer bottle off one of their heads but was grabbed and thrown to the ground. Instantly she feels it, the rush of so much energy and strength that was pulsing through her muscles.
Someone tries to kick her but she catches the limb in her hands and snaps the bone with her grip.
There's screams and the men start scrambling away.
Michaela tries to see what's going on around her but her senses start going haywire.
She puts a hand to her head as her face grimaces in pain. She squeezes her eyes shut to appease the discomfort in her vision.
There's a flash in her mind of a girl and she opens her eyes and sees her as if she is lying right in front of her.
A young white girl no older than Michaela.
She soaken wet and looks… dead. The shorter girl scrambles back to get away from her.
The girl's eyes are closed but then she turns her head to look at her.
“Francesca…” Michaela inhales.
***
John Stirling pulls his best friend from the small pool of water and immediately starts doing chest compressions. Francesca had lost her fight against The First evil but not before taking him out as well.
He tilts her head up to breathe air back into her lungs. Once, twice and then back to pushing on her breastbone and she's coughing up water.
Francesca's mind flashes and there's a Black girl.
In an alley.
More beautiful than she has ever seen.
She exhales out, “Michaela…”
But soon she's being hugged by John and he's crying and Sophie appears, her arm all bloody with Giles standing next her.
***
Michaela leans against a brick wall as the plague of memories and the history of who she now represents rewires her brain.
Her head throbs from the invasion.
The girl she helped hovers near her, worried that she was hurt during the confrontation with the men. But the older woman strolling up dismisses her faster than she can blink.
Sydney Davenport. One of the few female Watchers on the council. She feels more than lucky that her first week in New York from England ended with her not only finding her potential Slayer but getting to witness her becoming what she was born to be right before her eyes.
She kneels down in front of Michaela.
“Not even a Slayer yet and you were already proving why you were chosen. Come with me, dear. I have much to teach you.” She finished coolly before extending out her hand.
Michaela still felt out of it but since she had no clue what was happening to her and no where to sleep that night, she took her hand.
From that moment on, her life was never ever the same.