Hidden Memories

Disclaimer: Joss owns the people and Gary Fleder owns the plot, and Sera Devona owns the idea for the fic.
Summary: A young girl has something inside her head. Can Doctor O'Connor get it in time to save a life? Based on the movie Don't Say A Word.
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Rating: PG-13 maybe R.
Spoilers: There aren't any for BtVS because it's AU, but pretty much everything for "Don't Say A Word".
Pairing: I'm planning on it being B/A
A.N: With permission by Sera Devona I am revising and continuing the fic that she started. Please be aware that I will be changing some things in the first three parts that she wrote.
A.N. 2: A big thanks to Marilyn for the name to the fic, I really appreciate it.

Part 1

The men in the car drove away as the van blew into pieces from the bomb they planted inside.

"Go back!" said a man who realized the bracelet inside the silk bag was not the red diamond that he painstakingly planned to take from the bank.

"What?" asked one of the men that just helped their accomplice, Lindsey, steal a ten million dollar jewel.

"I said go fucking back!" he screamed, his anger reaching the top.

Lindsey just starred out the car's windshield as the man he thought was helping him drove away in another car with his prized possession. He swore on his life, that Giles Summers would be dead before he kept that piece of crystal away from him.

The older man pulled his blonde haired daughter down the crowded street of Brooklyn, New York. The pedestrians walking freely on the side of the road just helped to slow them down more. The small girl had to weave through the tangle of legs as the man had to push people aside to get his frame through the mass. He wasn't going fast enough, they were catching up and the only thing he could do was pull his daughter faster, making her legs shake as she ran for all she was worth to keep up with her father. Finally, they had reached the place they needed to be, but was it in time. He looked around, and the men that were following him were no longer there.

10 Years Later…

"Mr. Harris, what you were doing in the girls' locker room with the panties, well, I probably shouldn't be saying this…" Angel hesitated, "but, everyone does it, the janitor, your friends, the mailman, and someone who tells you they don't is lying."

Xander Harris squirmed around in his seat after hearing those words come out of Dr. O'Connor's mouth. "My mom says I'm "over sexed"."

Angel just stood there wondering why he was seeing this boy, he didn't need help, he just needed to get some sex in his life like every other teen boy. This was a waste of $200 an hour.

Down by the bank of the river laid a young women with reddish-brown hair who wasn't wearing any clothes and looked like she had been tortured to death. Bruises, cut, and burns covered her body from head to toe. Not a patch of her pale dead skin looked unharmed, as she laid out in the open for everyone to see. Even though the corpse was in the open, no one paid attention; they all drove by in the car ignoring the person that was crying aloud for help it deserved.

In the car Angel O'Connor dialed his home number hoping to get in touch with Cordelia. The woman who had now moved into to his house with him.

"Hello?" answered a small young girl who was busy watching TV as she laid in bed with the dark haired woman.

"Hmm, I must have the wrong house. I don't remember a young woman living with me," joked the man into the phone as he laughed.

"Angel, it's me," giggled the little girl.

"Are you sure, cause last time I checked Logan was only eight, the person I'm talking to now has to be at least 11."

"I got big over night," she said matter-of-factly, falling back into the bed beside her mother who was in a cast from a broken leg.

"Can you put mommy on the phone please?" he asked waiting until the phone was transferred between people.

"Ya know, you sure tease my daughter a lot," spoke Cordy.

"Hello to you too, Cor. Is there anything you need from the store?"

"Hmm, let me think," she said as Angel let out a sigh. "How about some ice cream, cherries, bananas, whipped cream, chocolate syrup."

"Ya know, if you weren't my sister I don't think I would spoil you as much as I do. You already moved into my house and now you want me to open a sundae bar."

"Hey, it's not my fault that I broke my leg and can't move around or take care of Logan by myself."

"Right, you just had to go skiing. You don't even know how to ski, " teased Angel laughing at his disabled sister.

"Angel, I wouldn't expect you to understand my logics. There were guys, hot guys, I had to look like I knew what I was doing," explained Cordy, exasperatedly.

"Yeah, and you pulled that off real well. I'll be home in 20 minutes."

While he was driving his pager went off showing the number of the clinic. "Nope, I didn't hear it," he said just wanting to go home.

When it started to beep again with a '911' on it Angel knew that his conscious wouldn't allow him to ignore it and he headed towards the psychiatric ward where he would be spending most of his evening.

Doctor O'Connor walked into the familiar place that he used to work at. The people here were still the same, the smell hadn't changed and it was as dingy looking as it was before. He walked through two sets of gates, put up so nobody who was unauthorized got get in or out. He searched for the man that he knew had left the critical message on his beeper, and tried to learn what the problem was.

"Angel!" shouted the overseeing doctor of the Bridgeview Psychiatric Center.

"Wesley," Angel greeted. "It's the night before Thanksgiving; what could possibly be so important that you had to interrupt my time with my family?"

"We got a new patient. Wasn't even out of the vehicle and she practically ripped apart and orderlies face. They had to retain her, and she still fought all the way to her room. She's been to over twenty different hospitals and had over twenty different diagnosis. She's in a basic catatonic state, won't eat, sleep, bath, nothing. There's something seriously wrong with her," explained the other doctor, Doctor Wyndam-Pryce.

"Wesley, you haven't talked to me in a year and all of a sudden you call me up and want me to check out this girl. I have other things to do. You're qualified enough to diagnose and treat her yourself. You don't need me, so if you don't mind, I'll be leaving," said Angel matter-of-factly.

"Angel, Angel, Angel. Just wait," tried Wesley hurriedly. "Come on, Angel. This is the kind of case we've always dreamed of getting. We would wait until we got one, but never did. Now that we do you're just going to turn it down and leave? That's it?"

Sighing heavily, Angel turned around and stared his friend in the face. "Why now, what's so special about her?"

Wesley smiled knowing that he had almost gotten paste Angel's barrier. "They're going to take her away. If we don't have a good diagnosis and get her to do something come Monday, she's gone. Just talk to her. I promise you won't regret it."

The resolve on the tall dark and handsome man's face was slowly disappear as a new found curiosity entered in its place.

A young blonde women about the age of 20 sat on the edge of the bed starring at the wall ahead of her like it was the only thing in the world that existed. She had a slight shake to her and Angel didn't know if it was from the thin piece of clothing the hospital provided or if it was because the things going on inside her head. A looked of worry crossed his face as he flipped through her chart. She had been put on so many different medications that her health was in danger. There was no way that her body was forced all of those drugs and escaped without any problems.

"Hello, Buffy, I'm Dr. O'Connor, but you can call me Angel; I feel old when people call me by my last name," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood in the room aid.

He stepped around the bed to see her body front on. The bruises covering her legs and arms instantly stuck out against her ghastly pale skin. Her forehead had a gash on it, a wound that looked like it came from a human fist smashing itself into her head. Instant anger flooded through him at the thought of someone hurting a patient who clearly needed some help. There was something else he was taken aback, her beauty; beyond the marred skin was a face that held the complexion of a woman who was as beautiful as the sun was bright. Long blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her eyes were a bright shade of emerald green, and pink, pouty lips graced her face. Although her face was blank at the moment, Angel could see the hurt and fierceness in her eyes. He had to swallow the urge to reach out and caress her broken face, and instead gripped the chart tight with both hands so he wouldn't be tempted to.

Pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of her he began his questioning. "So, you haven't eaten in three days. I don't blame you, I've tried the food here."

The man standing on the other side of the two-way mirror sighed his disapproval. He knew Angel had a weird way at doing this, but Wesley just hoped it worked because if it didn't he would be in big trouble.

Angel stared into the scarred eyes of Buffy and thought of a way to get into her mind. "Buffy, will you let me take your pulse?" When he didn't get and answer he hesitated a little but went on. "That requires me touching you."

Once again she didn't respond back so Angel began to lightly rub her wrist and the skin around it, moving further up her arm, trying to get a reaction from his patient. When no response came from the catatonic blonde in front of him he tested her to see if she was really what she seemed. He took her arm in his hand and lifted it so it was the same level as her shoulder. When she just stared on, he let go of her arm seeing what would happen. As he expected, it dropped back down to her side where he had picked it up.

"You're a very smart girl, Buffy. I think that both you and I know that that shouldn't have happen and that you're not really catatonic." Angel sat back in his chair, trying to figure out the girl that was in front of him. "Is there anything you want to tell me? Anything you're worried about?" He asked, knowing she was hearing everyone word that came out of his mouth. "There's a reason you're in here. Everybody in here has a reason for being like they are. What's yours?"

Her hand came up in the air all on its own and her nimble fingers started drawing an invisible pattern that only she knew.

He went to walk out the door, heading home to his sister and niece as the blonde on the bed quickly turned and flopped down on the bed landing on her stomach. Her fingers twirled some more like they had a life of their own.

"You want what they want," she said knowing that whoever talked to her wanted her secret, but that didn't happen. "I'll never tell… I'll never tell," she said in a sing-songy voice as she laid down on her back and braced her hands against the wall that was above her bed. "Any of you, any of you."

That was the last thing Angel heard as he walked out of the room to return home to his sister and niece.

Detective Willow Rosenburg arrived on the scene at 10 that night. She walked up to one of the coroners wondering what was wrong. "What do we have here?"

"Dead girl, cause of death is still unknown. Could be suffocation, drowning or torture. She's been dead for a couple of days," he explained everything he knew to her.

"It's freezing out here, the temperature of the water could have kept the body even longer."

"Three days tops," argued the coroner.

Willow looked over the body hoping to find anything that may help solve this case. Her eyes came to the bruises on her wrists and she questioned, "She was tied, was there any rope found?"

"No, nothing yet, we're still searching."