By Kirayoshi
Disclaimers – Buffy, Willow and Giles belong to Joss Whedon who charts their destines, I’m just borrowing them for a little while. No copyright infringement was intended.
Feedback – is like Skittles.
The
following transcript is taken from the personal records of Rupert Giles;
conversation with
Buffy
Summers, June 17, 2001;
Giles; “Well now, Buffy, it is good to see you out
of the hospital.”
Buffy; “You got that right, Giles.”
Giles; “And I for one am glad that you are
well. We’ve all missed you when you were
gone.”
Buffy; “Thanks.
But it’d help if I could remember what happened. According to Mom, I’ve been gone for over a
year, and I don’t remember what happened to me. All I remember was being with the gang, it was important, that
much I remember, but what we actually doing, I dunno. It's frustrating, y’know?”
Giles; “I can understand that perfectly. In fact that is why I wish to talk to you
now. I want to ask you some simple
questions, nothing too personal, and show you some pictures.”
Buffy; “Oh, you mean ink blots or something? It looks like two bunnies sharing a
carrot.
And
you decide the carrot is some sort of male substitute, some form of penis
envy--”
Giles
(flushed); “Please, Buffy, nothing so dramatic. Simply some photographs of people you know, to determine the
extent of your amnesia. I suspect that
it’s only partial, concerning certain facts and memories your subconscious mind
may wish to suppress. I’m sure that
you’ll regain full memory in time.”
Buffy;
“Okay, Freud. I’m game. Ask away.”
Giles;
“Oh, do you mind if I record this session on video tape? I assure you that this will be strictly
confidential.”
Buffy;
“Sure, but if it lands on Playboy, I get fifty percent of the residuals.”
Giles
(after a pause); “Fair enough. First,
I’m going to say some words at random.
I want you to say the first thing that you think of when you hear each
word. First, relax. This isn’t a test, there are no wrong
answers. Are you comfortable?”
Buffy;
“Hey, bug in a rug here.”
Giles;
“Good. Now then. Sunnydale.”
Buffy;
“A one-Starbuck’s town in California. Home sweet home.”
Giles;
“Anything else comes to mind?”
Buffy; “Uh, U. C. Sunnydale, my college. The Bronze, the closest thing Sunnydale has
to a decent hangout joint?”
Giles;
“Good enough for now. Okay, the next
word; Watcher.”
Buffy
(thinking for a few seconds); “Uh, someone who watches something?”
Giles; “What specifically do you think a watcher
watches?”
Buffy
(immediately); “Well, they’d better not be watching me, I’ll give them a piece
of my mind here. Hmph! Voyeurs.”
Giles;
“Very well. Moving on; Slayer.”
Buffy
(brightly); “A heavy metal band!”
Giles;
“Adam.”
Buffy;
“Hooked up with Eve at the Garden of Eden?”
Giles
(somewhat exasperated); “Angel.”
Buffy
(after a second); “Old boyfriend.”
Giles;
“You remember Angel?”
Buffy;
“Sure. I was in love with him once. At
least I thought I was. The one time we
made love, he changed though. He became
darker, more--Ohh! Man, this is
frustrating. I remember our breaking up, and I know now it was right, but the
exact moment--Geez, I just can’t remember!”
Giles;
“Don’t try to force it, Buffy. You
suffered no head injury, no physical trauma, your memory should recover itself
with time. Just give it time to occur naturally. It will be fine. Are you ready to try some photographs?”
Buffy; “Sure.”
Giles
(holding the first photograph); “Do you recognize this person?”
Buffy; “Willow” (she grins broadly). “Willow
Rosenberg.”
Giles;
“You remember Willow. Would you define
your relationship with her?”
Buffy;
“Yeah, we have incredible sex together. (Waits a beat, then laughs). Sorry, Giles, but the look on your face--I
hope the camera caught that. Okay,
serious. I love her. She is the light of my life, the beat of my
heart, the wind beneath my wings, and every other damn corny song you could
name.”
Giles;
“She is important to you then?”
Buffy; “I love her, Giles. With all my heart. I remember, it was just before Christmas break, '99. We were talking, I don’t know about what,
she was bummed about Oz taking off for no reason. We started to share stuff we never said to each other, and one
thing led to another, and before we knew it, we were pushing our beds together,
then pushing our bodies together...
Oops, too explicit for the stuffy British librarian.”
Giles
(stammering); “Oh, no, not at all. I
want you to be perfectly honest with me.
Now then, this one.” (holds another photo).
Joyce;
“Mom.”
Giles;
“Very good. Now this one.”
Buffy
(looking at the photo for a second); “Riley” (makes a rude face).
Giles;
“You don’t seem too fond of Riley, do you?”
Buffy;
“He lied to me. He was in some military unit. Didn’t tell me when we were
dating. And he was just too smug, to cocky.
I dunno. I heard from Willow that
he was transferred to Alaska to count penguin eggs or something.”
Giles
(slight smile on his face); “That may be difficult, considering that penguins
are indigenous
to
Antarctica, not Alaska.”
Buffy;
“Hey, amnesiac over here. How the heck am
I supposed to know that?”
<><><><><><><><>
Giles
shut off the tape at that point, saying to Angel, “I think that covers it.”
Angel
sat on Giles' couch as Giles took the easy chair on the right side. Angel whistled softly as he digested the
information on the video. “I see your concern, Giles,” he admitted. “Her memory
is selective, she knows us, she knows that we were in love, that she loves
Willow, but she has no memories directly relating to her being the Slayer.”
“Yes,”
Giles murmured. “It’s as though she rewrote her memory to explain her
relationships with us, without the supernatural connections.” He frowned,
adding, “You insist that there is something momentous on the horizon, and I
have to believe you. We’re going to
need Buffy back at her full capacity soon.”
“I
think you’re handling this situation as well as can be expected,” Angel argued.
“If we were to flat-out tell her that she’s the Slayer, that she’s spent the
last four years of her life fighting vampires and other monsters, who knows what
effect that would have on her?”
“Yes,
I see your meaning,” Giles mused. “Especially her having spent the last year of
her life in Hell. I suppose you’re
right. We must allow her memory to
resurface on its own.”
“And
hope it resurfaces soon,” Angel agreed. “She’ll be okay, though. Willow’s
taking her home from the hospital, she’ll be staying at Willow’s apartment.”
“And
I’m glad of that, Angel. If anyone can reach her, it would be Willow.” Giles
sipped at his cup of Earl Grey, and regarded Angel with a mix of awe and purely
academic curiosity. “Angel,” he started
hesitantly. “I feel the need to ask you, what was it like? Going to Hell, I mean.” Seeing Angel’s head turning away, Giles
added, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I--”
“No,
Giles,” Angel answered. “I mean, it was terrible down there. But--I need to get this out, I haven’t told
anyone about this, I have to tell someone.”
He faced Giles, his expression of one on the verge of a revelation, an
epiphany. “It changed me, Giles. The
demon is gone. Angelus is destroyed.”
Giles
regarded this last statement with alarm. “Destroyed, you say? How is that possible?”
“I
don’t know how, I just know that it is,” Angel struggled with the words,
desperately attempting to describe his experience. Just two days after the
journey through Hell, and the memories were deserting him, as though a human
mind couldn’t encompass the experience of being in Hell. It had to let go of the details, or go mad. All he could remember were fleeting
impressions, some of his actions, and the strange sense of being cleansed by
Buffy’s rescue.
“When
we found Buffy,” he began, “we were suddenly attacked, and hard. Every demon,
every vampire, every evil that Buffy fought had gathered around us, and they
were on the attack. Willow had
discovered that we could channel our innermost selves, and use that strength to
empower us, to fight them. I found
myself face to face with Angelus. Like
he was trapped in Hell, even though I knew that if I ever weakened, and allowed
myself to experience a moment of joy again, he would be loosed. At first I thought that it was just an
abstraction, not real. But as I fought,
Angelus was able to counter every move.
And I couldn’t outfight it. I couldn’t even cheat. I know it sounds crazy, but it was like that
part of me that could fight dirty was gone.”
“Not
surprising, Angel,” Giles commented as he absently rubbed the lenses of his
glasses with a pocket handkerchief. “Angelus held sway over your darker
instincts. In all likelihood, while the
two of you were separate entities, your capacity for guile resided within him,
not you.”
Angel
had to agree with Giles on that score. In the past, guile and deception had
been useful tools for him, although he hardly took pleasure in their use. He recalled the time he fooled Faith into
thinking that she had been successful in stealing his soul. And just last year, he was able to sneak
into the offices of Wolfram and Hart by smuggling a vampire into their lobby,
thus distracting him.
But
when he fought his dark mirror, he found himself unable to fight on his
level. He had channeled the spirits of
the famous heroes of the British Isles, or at least his impressions of them;
Arthur, Robin Hood, William Wallace, Rob Roy.
He had taken on their nobility with their strength, and could only fight
honorably.
“I
still have to ask you,” Giles interrupted his train of thought, “are you
certain that Angelus is gone?”
“I
am,” Angel replied. “And I’ll tell you why; when we emerged from the Hellmouth,
I felt a lightness in my soul that I hadn’t known in all my life, or
unlife. When we saw her awake and
alert, holding Willow in her arms, I was happy for her.” He leaned forward and enunciated each word
for maximum clarity; “I. Was. Completely.
Happy.”
Giles
let the enormity of Angel’s words sink in. The curse under which he had labored
for much of his vampiric life. If he
ever knew a moment of complete joy, he would lose his soul, and the demon
Angelus would emerge. Giles had experienced
this firsthand; when Buffy and Angel
had made love for the first and only time, Angelus came out to play. He had tormented Buffy, attacked Willow,
tortured Giles and nearly destroyed the world.
“Are
you saying,” Giles asked in measured tones, “that the curse that bound your
soul to you no longer applies?”
“My
soul is mine, Giles,” Angel answered. “I’m still a vampire, I still have the
same strengths and limitations, but my soul is my own.” He spoke with less
animation and more awe. Like someone commenting on a spectacular sunset. Giles caught this expression of joy in his
voice and knew it to be true. The vile
Angelus had been forever destroyed. “Heh,” he laughed slightly. “If only Kate
hadn’t declared herself my enemy before this.”
“I
am happy for you, my friend,” Giles declared. “After all the Hell you've been
through, you deserve this.”
<><><><><><><><>
The
rest of the evening was spent discussing how they were going to handle Buffy’s
amnesia.
They
agreed that Buffy shouldn’t be pushed into remembering the dark details of her
life as the Slayer, and that Willow should look after her. Since Willow had planned for Buffy to move
in with her at her townhouse, this would be easy enough.
Angel
had agreed to stay in Sunnydale for a while longer, and had contacted Wesley in
Los Angeles to put him in charge of the detective firm in his absence. Wesley proved to be a capable detective, and
with his help, Angel Investigations had turned in a small profit these last few
months. They were probably going to
have to hire a new secretary, Angel thought with a smile on his face. He recalled how Cordy had clung to Xander
when they returned from Hell. And she
had told him that she was considering enrolling at U. C. Sunnydale next
fall. He smiled inwardly and wished her
luck.
As
he left Giles’ place that night, he felt more complete than he had in
centuries. He was still cursed with
vampirism, but he had lived with that for so long he was used to it. He no longer had to be careful about losing
his soul. He had fought hard for it, he
had won it, it was his. And he didn’t
have to fear that his one great love, his Buffy, would be unhappy. He had seen the joy in her eyes when she
held Willow in the hospital. She was
truly blest to know Willow, and he was truly happy for them both.
Happy. An unusual condition for him. One he would have to get used to.
A
sudden unearthly breeze whipped the hem of his duster jacket. He glanced around, his
hypernatural
senses working overtime. He held his arms
at his sides, ready for anything.
A
voice registered on the wind, dark, sweet, full of both promise and menace;
“I’m disappointed in you, my Childe.
Consorting with the livestock.
They’re just food, you know.
Nothing more.” Then the voice was gone.
Angel’s
earlier sense of peace was shattered by these words. He recognized who spoke to him.
“Darla,”
he whispered the name of his Sire. The
one who brought him into the darkness so many years ago. So, whatever was going
to happen, it had begun.
And
for the time being, the world was without a Slayer.