For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain.
Chapter 5
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
She couldn't make heads nor tails of it all. The pain, the death, the agony. She didn't know who she was, where she was any more. The faces of people dead in her arms, dead by her hand, dead in spite of everything she could do to protect them. No end in site. No hope of survival.
Tara and Giles had both fallen asleep in the room with Willow and Buffy. The phone woke them up. Tara was closer and picked up. After a brief conversation she hung up and turned to Giles.
"Giles, that was Xander. He said to tell you 'she's up and moving around and wants to talk to the Slayers' Watcher' which I would guess that means that she knows about all the Hellmouth stuff and things"
"Well I guess that means she can speak more than just Latin. I should get back to the house to help with crisis number two. I figure problem three will show up sometime around supper. This is the Hellmouth you know." Trying to be flip but obviously disturbed by this whole sequence of events.
Xander was completely entranced with Rhavyn, He knew that some of it was purely the eye candy appeal of her taught muscular form and her cat like grace, but some it was the soft way she spoke, and that accent! They had talked for hours it seemed and before he knew what he was doing he had told her about the whole Buffy/Slayer history according to Xander, along with the recent Faith episode. When he ran out of story, she prompted him to call Giles.
When Giles arrived, he was mildly surprised to find Xander gone and his houseguest setting forth fresh tea in the living room. Her recovery was remarkable. He barely recognized her as the same broken battered scruffy shell of a young lady Buffy had brought home from the graveyard. She was quite tall, almost as tall as him. Her hair, now that it had been unmated, washed and brushed out, flowed in a thick coal-black mass, offsetting her pale features and eyes. Her simple attire also did some most flattering things for her figure. She was dressed in a grey tank top, faded blue jeans, and black knee high boots. A small Gothic cross adorned her neck. She looked up at him with a slight smile as she sat on the couch.
"I understand I have you to thank for my care and recovery. I don't know how to thank you enough. I guess the fates led me to the right place after all."
Giles was a bit mesmerized by her beguiling accent, her words barely above a whisper.
"Ah...Yes. It was the least I could do." He finally stammers out.
"No, the least would have been to leave me there to be taken by the next vampire or demon to come along, or to dump me off at some hospital. Both of which would have been bad. I came here to find the Slayer and her Watcher whether intentionally or unintentionally. You see, I have been doing a study of Watchers and Slayers for a while," she pauses chuckling "quite a while."
"Ah.. Miss...."
"Rhavyn, call me Rhavyn."
"Yes, Miss Rhavyn, why are you seeking info on Slayer, perhaps starting with where did you find out about them?"
"I will get to that later. I wish no harm to your charge rest assured. Actually she is quite safe from me. As for you, from what I've learned about your relation with your Slayer, you should be safe. Most of the time Watchers dealing with Slayers and Potential Slayers are quite draconian in their dealings, prohibiting most things that are the essential aspects of humanity. No friends, stripped from their families, driven toward an impossible level of perfection with no hope of a single change in their relentless yet short lived lives save death. Always the whole thing perpetuated on a poor unsuspecting 12-16 year old girl with no hope of living to see 20. There are notable exceptions to this pattern, but they are few and far between, maybe 1 in 100 Slayers has someone who truly cares for them in the last days, months, years of their oh so thankless existence. The rest are treated like tools or pets; something trained to do work, and when it's broke, you go get another one. Meanwhile the poor Slayer, the one girl in all the world blessed with the power, speed, and senses to fight the agents of demonic evil, she spends her last waking existence drowning in a sea of self pity, despair and horror at all she has seen and had to do." She sat staring into her teacup, a glazed look in her eyes as a single unnoticed tear slid down her cheek.
Her voice had not risen above the almost whisper that she started at, but the shear force of conviction and venom in her voice plunged into Giles like a knife. It was quite obvious that for some reason this woman greatly empathized with the Slayers and has a deep seated hatred for the Watchers, but for some reason he felt himself get defensive.
"Now see here Rhavyn, I don't know what you've read or seen, but there is more at stake than the Slayer's life or happiness. The fate of the world frequently rests in the hands of our young charges and sometimes it takes unpleasant methods to prepare for such a thing! I don't know who you think you are or what you've read, but you haven't a clue about what it is to be the Slayer!"
At his statement, a cold, tight lipped smile appeared on her pale face.
"Perhaps a better introduction is in order, my proper name is Sasha Hannachen, but your chronicles have dubbed me 'Ghost'"
The teacup in Giles' hand falls, shattering on the floor.
To Be Continued
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