Remember Me

Buffy didn't remember a time when she felt more tired. Every limb, cell, bone and muscle in her body seemed to ache. She swore she was so tired even the blood pumping through her veins hurt her.

Then there was the dark. So much darkness she wondered if she had been rendered blind. Voices were foggy, sounding more like the adults on the Charlie Brown cartoons. There was one voice that was a constant, that seemed almost soothing to her with its gentle, deep tone. It was the only voice that she remembered day to day. The only one that she could almost make out with its promise to not harm her and take care of her. Crying made her eyes sting and took everything out of her. It wasn't like she was conscious enough to even think much at all. When she did, however, when she had those few moments when her thoughts weren't jarbled and her brain didn't feel like mush, she thought of Spike and Angel. She prayed that they were hunting for her, that they wouldn't think her dead. It felt like forever since she'd seen them. How long had she been gone? Sometimes though, sometimes she hoped that whoever or whatever had her, they would do whatever they were going to do to her and be done with it.

Even if it meant death.


Rupert Giles sat in his home, reclined in an easy chair and enjoying himself a cup of tea. He had just been granted work-from-home status. He no longer had to worry about having to run into Quentin Travers every day. Didn't have to worry about the look of sympathy AND disgust as Quentin looked upon him and reminded him of how his Slayer had died. Giles' Slayer, not Quentin's. That was the problem with Travers. Everything was HIS somehow. He seemed to overlook the fact that Giles had kept his Slayer alive past eighteen, when most Slayers died at that age. All Quentin ever focused on was what you did wrong, not what you did right. If the man knew how he had help from a vampire, and still kept in loose touch with said vampire, Travers would be sure to have his head on a platter. The way Giles saw it, Slayers and Watchers needed all the help they could get, if it happened to come in the form of a souled vampire, then so be it. He supposed it was that kind of laissez-faire attitude that Quentin despised so much in him. He only agreed to keep Giles on at the Council because he knew that he had a gold mine in his magical knowledge, not to mention he was excellent at cross-referencing and well, just knowing his stuff.

Giles had the sense that something was happening, something big, down at Headquarters, but he didn't know what it was. He was thankful instead that he had been allowed to work from home rather than have to be part of it directly. Whatever it was that was happening, certainly had Travers busy. He hadn't given Giles any trouble at all when he requested to 'leave'. If possible, the twitchy man had seemed twitchier.


"So, what's the story?" Lindsey asked Quentin, anxious to hear what the old man had to say about Buffy.

Quentin smiled broadly, eerily. "The story is quite simple. We tell everyone that we had heard of this SuperGirl that was not the Slayer, but had Slayer-like powers with the added gift of magic. We'd been unable to see her due to apocalypses and such and when we were finally able to see her, we learned of the news: Her mother had been killed by two vampires and Buffy had been abducted by them. She was tortured by them, used as a pincushion, and was on the verge of death until we were able to save her. The two vampires? Spike and Angelus.
We saved her, although we were unable to kill them. Having no family, aside from her dead mother, and having no memory of any friends-basically having nothing, we took her in. We're making sure she gets healthy again, restoring her strength and helping her rebuild a life. She will remember nothing of Spike and Angelus aside from the memories of them torturing her. Those memories, I will plant inside her head. There will be no Whistler in her mind. There will only be the happy memories she had of her childhood with her mother until Spike and Angelus violently ripped her world apart.
And when Angelus and Spike come to look for her, as I'm sure they will one day soon, they will find in the place of their lover, the Perfect Slayer, a killing machine bent on saving the world from vampires-particularly that of Spike and Angelus. I will have my revenge on them for centuries of their massacres, including two of MY Slayers, and she will have her revenge for what they did to her. No one will be the wiser, except for us. It will be poetic justice. Those two fiends will be murdered at the hands of their lover," Quentin smiled as he leaned back in his chair, stacking his hands behind his head. He had a faraway look of pleasure on his face.

"You can do this?" Lindsey asked, "you can wipe out all those years she spent with them?"

"Very simple my boy. All I do is bring forth her childhood memories-the real ones-erase a few others-Spike and Angel-create some teenage memories of her and her mother-then add in her mothers death and her torture. Simple."

"She hasn't been beaten though. I mean, we've never harmed her."

"Not an issue. It's called Glamour. I can make it so that she sees the bruises, feels the wounds on her, but they are not there. I can also make it so that others can see them too, and as she 'heals', they will fade. Again, simple."

Lindsey fidgeted, undoing his collar, it was suddenly a tad too hot in the room.

"It's poetry, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir," Lindsey replied emotionlessly, feeling a chill run up his spine at the demented man's words. The only thing he could do now was protect Buffy as best he could. He couldn't bear to think of her having to remember the horrible things Quentin had planned for her. It was cruel and heartless.

"What of Faith and Wesley? They've met her," Lindsey pointed out.

"They're in California. They have their own issues to deal with. They don't need to know anything. And if I have to, I will find a way to take care of them. Besides, the poor girl's been through enough. She doesn't need the whole damn world to know her business, now does she? We only need to tell the ones here that might see her on a daily basis. Why don't you call a meeting? Make sure you get a hold of Rupert Giles. He's home now."

Lindsey nodded and walked out of Quentin's office, making a beeline for Buffy. He found her, as he always did on her bed, sleeping. His eyes welled with tears as he beheld her. What crazy thing had he gotten himself into? What would become of her? What if she regained her memories of Angel and Spike, of her life before? He couldn't let that happen to Buffy. He'd have to make sure she was kept safe, and when she was under his charge, he'd make sure that she was kept a safe distance from Quentin Travers. That in itself, would prove most difficult.


Chapter Ten
Buffy and her mother were walking home together. It was late, they had just seen a movie together and were talking animatedly about it when they were both knocked to the ground. Whatever had attacked them, it had come from seemingly out of nowhere. Out of the sky, even. Buffy felt herself being pressed into the ground, the small rocks digging into her skin as her instinct to grab for her stake had her reaching for it. Before she could reach it however, she was hauled upwards and slammed into the wall. Air left her lungs and it was then that she heard her mothers whimper. Whatever attacked her, forced her arms back into an extremely uncomfortable position behind her back. She felt as if her arms were going to snap at any moment.

Vampire. It had to be, because the one that held her mother was a vampire. Tall, broad shouldered with dark hair, it cackled at Buffy, teasing her, tormenting her as he smacked her mother to the ground, the force of it causing her fall with a horrendous thud on the ground.

"Leave her alone!" Buffy shouted, struggling to free herself but failing as fear for her mother coiled through her and rendered her unable to fight properly.

"Shut up!" The vampire in her ear snarled.

"Please, leave her alone," Buffy whimpered.

"Oh look, she's begging now, Angelus," the vampire who held her laughed.

The other vampire snarled and stood over her mother's lifeless body. He looked at Buffy and then down at the woman on the ground. In a flash he picked her up by the arms and sank his fangs savagely into her neck.

Tears coursed down Buffy's cheeks and she tried to scream, tried to yell, but all she could let out were hoarse 'no's'. When the vampire was done, he dropped her mother as if she were trash, leaving her limp body tangled in and ungodly position on the ground.

"Spike, she's gonna pass out," was the last thing she heard before the ground rushed up to meet her.

Flashes, scenes of torment flooded her. She saw the blond and brunette vampire suck on her blood, beat her, taunt her, show off her mothers corpse to her. Her body was in pain, her heart sick. She wanted to die, wanted it all to end and be put out of the misery and torment she was experiencing. Days seemed to mesh into each other. She felt outside herself as she stayed, chained to a wall, her arms stretched and pulled above her head. Her clothes were torn, and dried blood and purple bruises marred her usual clear, milky skin. The house reeked of a corpse-her mothers. It was all too much, she couldn't take it anymore so she---opened her eyes.

Everything was white and blurry. Two dark figures came closer to her and she put out her hands to stop them. She was begging them, pleading with them not to hurt her anymore.

"You're safe now, Buffy," a deep voice was telling her. Her vision was slowly clearing, the dreams causing the blind panic.

There were two men. Two men in suits. One old, one young. They were staring at her sympathetically, concerned. She swallowed and it felt as if she were swallowing sand. She winced as she sat up further, the pain in her body reminding her that it wasn't a dream.

"Mom?" She managed to squeak.

The two men exchanged glances and the younger one looked down.

"She's gone, Buffy. But you, you are safe now," the older man told her quietly.

She didn't know why these strangers made her feel safe, she didn't even know them, but the fact that she was alive, hooked up to an IV with machines all around her all set to make her heal was a tip off that these men were not meant to harm her. Anything could have been better than where she was.

Arms came around her and she flung her own out, sending the young man hurtling across the room. She stared wide-eyed as did the young man.

"You've still got your strength," the older man told her.

"Lot good it did me. I couldn't save my mother."

"You are an extraordinary woman, Buffy. What happened to you and your mother is something that Slayers have been plagued with for centuries-"

Buffy's head snapped to the gray haired man, "who are you?"

He smiled warmly and extended a hand that she eyed warily. "Quentin Travers, Head of the Watchers Council where you are right now. And the young man you just tossed across the room is Lindsey McDonald, a Watcher."

Buffy turned to Lindsey as he stood up, his legs a bit wobbly from the force of impact against the wall. She watched him as he straightened himself out and gazed directly at her. His eyes were compassionate and understanding and he gave her a slight nod before sitting himself in a nearby chair.

She returned her attention back to Quentin. "I've heard about the Council. I've heard about Slayers. I thought it was just a myth."

"Oh?"

"I was trying to find a reason why. . . why I was so different. Why I had these powers, what they meant. I. . I wanted to know what I was."

"You have a gift-"

"A gift?" Buffy balked. "You call this a gift? What I have caused my mother to die. What I AM caused me to be tormented and beaten for it. I don't consider that a gift."

"You sound just like a Slayer."

"Did you save me?"

Quentin nodded, "we did."

Buffy pointed at Lindsey and then Quentin, "you both did?"

"Yes, Buffy."

"How did you know about me? How did you know that I was. . ."

"Let me explain a bit to you about the Watcher's Council and we'll get to that, dear. Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"I'm, I'm thirsty."

"Very well, Lindsey?"

"Yes sir," Lindsey stood and walked out of the room. Something about hearing his voice made Buffy alert even more to him. Had she heard that voice before? It soothed her.

"The Watcher's Council is very simply a group of men well versed in the ways of what society calls 'Supernatural.' What others call the supernatural and believe is a lie, we know there is truth. There are demons, vampires, prophecies, fates, ghosts, witches et cetera that exist on this Earth. It is our job to take the forces that are evil and annihilate them. We do that through our Slayers. The Slayer is our vessel if you will. She is the Chosen One, the one, alone, who must fight the forces of evil."

"How is she alone if she has you guys?"

"Very good question," Quentin smiled brightly. "Watchers do not engage in battle, they do not have the necessary powers a Slayer is gifted with when she is called."

"Called. I read about this. It's a whole fate thing. It's destined from the beginning of time who the Slayers are. Once one dies, the next comes in her place."

"Correct. And when one is called, she is automatically assigned a Watcher. A Watcher's function is to train her, teach her and help her in the annihilation process. He, or she, is her guide-"

"Hence the name 'watcher'."

"Correct."

"Kind of sounds like a bum deal to me. I mean, if a Watcher doesn't fight, then the Slayer is pretty much putting herself on the line fighting these demons with no help."

"The Watcher does help though. He hones her skills, helps her to be-"

"The Best Slayer she can be?"

"Yes. You, Buffy, are even better equipped than a Slayer."

"How?"

"You have magic."

"You never did get to how you know me. I think now would be a good time to explain that. I'm a bit wigged, I have to say."

Lindsey entered then and Buffy zoned in on him. She felt more comfortable with him there. He held out her glass of water and she took it gratefully, sniffing it before taking a sip. He looked at her curiously.

"After what I've been through. . . you can't be too careful," she explained. Lindsey nodded and resumed his seat.

"We heard about you Buffy through the grapevine. It's our job to be alert for sightings or unusual activity. Plus, there was talk from vampires here and there about a girl that was not the Slayer. Curious, we sought you out. We hoped, if the rumors were true, we could persuade you to come work for us on our side. Help us fight evil and the like, and in turn, allow us to learn about your power so that we could find a way to help future Slayers. Upon arrival, we learned that you had been abducted."

"What do you mean you 'learned' I'd been abducted? My mother and I were pretty much loners. No one came looking for us the whole time. . . how could you know?"

"Vampires, as you might have learned, love to brag."

"Oh."

"Spike and Angelus are the two most notorious vampire's in Slayer/Watcher History. Spike is the killer of two of my Slayers and Angelus was the Scourge of Europe before travel became easier for him to terrorize the world. Those two work together brutally tormenting-"

"Quentin," Lindsey almost barked at him.

Buffy felt sick as soon as the vampire's names were mentioned. Her gut twisted and turned, causing her to want to retch. She balled up her blanket in her fist, her knuckles turning white.

"I'm sorry," Quentin soothed, caressing her hands. Buffy stared at him blankly. All she could see was their faces. The demon mask and the human one. She would never forget those faces. Never.

Lindsey moved to her and sat across from her on the bed, in front of Quentin. He took her hands in his and gazed at her. "It's all right, Buffy. They can't hurt you anymore," he told her.

She focused on Lindsey, on his soothing voice and released the death grip on her blanket. "Are they alive still?" She asked.

Lindsey nodded, sadly. "We. . . we were unable to kill them."

"I want to kill them. Will you help me?"