For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain.
Chapter 4
Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"
Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path
Rating- May get to R eventually
"Daloc.....Daloc.....Ah, here it is. ........................Oh my! That's not good" Giles exclaimed, sitting back from the table and cleaning his glasses.
"What's not good?" Tara queried looking up from the tome she was reading.
"The Spell of Daloc is used to restore memories to someone that they forgot, or to put them so you could access them all."
"And what's wrong with that? Is remembering a bad thing?"
"Well, it's not selective in what ones it brings back. You can't pick and chose which ones you get. You get all of them. Your being teased by a 3rd grade bully on a snowy Tuesday afternoon, skinning your knee one Wednesday afternoon last week, dropping an ice cream cone, on top of all the bad things we suppress, such as bad dates, colds, and since we are here in the Hellmouth, every bad thing we witness, the deaths of friends and strangers, the struggles ect. Not to mention all the emotions that goes along with it." Giles goes back to reading the info as Tara digests the info she has received.
"Oh God! Tara! It's worse than I thought!" Giles whispered. "The Spell of Daloc is able to work by removing the memories unshuffling or unburying them and put them back in. But, to do so, they must be put somewhere to organize them, kinda like organizing a deck of cards is easier if you spread them out on a table. Unfortunately for Willow, the table is her mind. The spell puts all a persons lifetime of memories and emotions into the spellcasters head. They experience it all first hand, all in one big lump. Willow just received everything Buffy ever did or felt in her entire life. Daloc used it to steal knowledge and power from people and later there were a few times it was used as a punishment. It's irreversible. Willow will now remember everything Buffy Summers has ever, seen, done, experienced or felt. She knows what it felt like to be killed by the Master, to love Angel, to kill Angel, and she's swapped bodies with Faith. I have no idea what all of these extra memories and emotions suddenly dumped into her will do to her. I fear for her sanity."
Tara could do nothing but hold Willow and try to comfort her as Willow sobbed in her sleep.
Xander heard some noise downstairs through the pounding in his skull. 'Great, I hope it's the woman, otherwise I'm up here letting Giles get robbed after loosing the girl I'm supposed to help.' He said as he tried to stumble to the stairs. The scene that greeted him was not what he was expecting. The woman was sitting in the wing backed chair in the living room, sipping from a teacup while perusing one of Giles' Watcher Tomes. She seemed quite sad or distraught at what she was reading, muttering to herself too low to be heard.
"God, they die so young! But then their struggle is over. At least I now know I'm in the right place to find the Watcher. I just hope this Slayer fairs better than most of the others, I hate watching them die." Her tea had grown cold and almost as bitter as the tears coursing unbidden down her pale cheeks. She stood to go for more tea when she noticed the young man from the bedroom standing on the stairs watching her.
He had stood there just watching her for quite a few minutes. Her thin frame in that big chair made her look small and vulnerable, even before he saw the tears streaming down. She picked up her teacup and grimaced at the flavor in her cup. When she stood and turned, she locked eyes with him. Her pale face was framed by her coal black hair, its curly mass flowing down over her shoulders. He watched her eyes go from sad and hurt to steel, hard and impenetrable.
"Come on down, you can join me for some tea. I have questions."
Her voice was right out of all those cold war spy movies he had watched. She had a not-to-thick-but-noticeable accent right out of Eastern Europe. Not harsh like a B-movie, soft like a first rate one.
"It's ok, you can come down. I won't hurt you."
Xander made his way slowly down the stairs and followed her into the kitchen. He couldn't help but to come to the startling realization that she was as tall or taller than he was. Her long thin figure looked almost like a funhouse mirror image, except for the obvious muscles in her arms, back and shoulders that were visible from the dark grey tank top she had to have painted on.
She poured another cup of tea for herself and one for Xander and returned to the living room, Xander following her all the way. She sat in the wing backed chair and motioned Xander to the couch.
"I am Rhavyn, and I have come to meet the Slayer"
To Be Continued
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