Title: Story of a Girl
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled BtVS and Angel.
Summary: A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.
Distribution: Just ask if you want to use this.
Spoilers: All of Buffy and Angel. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.
a/n: Etoile Star, thanks so much for your help. Everyone else, thanks for all the reviews! Oh, oh, and keep reviewing! Reviews make me really happy! I hope you like this chapter! BTW, I own a pair of Scooby Doo pajamas, exactly like the pink ones described, and I've faithfully bought a pair every year since I was 4. And, no, you can't make fun of me for that, my five foot tall stuffed Scooby is the subject of enough jokes, thank you very much. Oh, and Sirius is not dead, I figured that losing Hermione would've been enough angst for one year. And just so you're not wondering, because I don't think I explained this in the last chapter. Sirius and Remus were at Hogwarts during the full moon, which was the same time that the demons the Scoobies fought fed the most. And just in case anyone was wondering, the original Council bastards sent Dumbledore (since he was the school's Headmaster) a letter saying that all of Hermione's family had died in a plane crash on the way back home from Spain, where they'd been vacationing until about a week before Chapter One. Since the last letter Hermione sent to anyone was from Spain, and Harry was busy replying when she "died", and a plane really did crash that week, everyone believed that she was dead. And Buffy will be called Buffy for the most part of this fic, it's who she is, now. Enough things have happened to her to make Hermione change, although Harry and the Hogwarts crew will call her Hermione. Read between the lines on that one, that's the biggest hint I'll give you. There's a few things I'm mentioning in this chapter that will be pretty important much later on in the story, but I'm not telling you what they are. It'll all make sense in the end.
How on earth had he gotten himself into this?
That was the sixty-seventh time Rupert Giles had asked himself that question on that night, alone. Normally, when he was asking himself that question, Giles was just regaining consciousness to find himself being held hostage by some demonic cult or the other. This time, the Watcher wasn't anywhere near that lucky. Giles would rather be a Fyarl demon again then be in this particular situation.
All of the Scoobies, including Andrew, surprisingly, were gathered in the Summers' living room, all clad in their most outlandish pajamas. And it wasn't as if Giles could have preserved the last shred of his dignity by wearing a decent pair of pajamas, but no, Willow had to go and cast a spell making everyone who didn't wear their most embarrassing pair of pajamas grow elephant ears for the night. If Giles hadn't seen her cast the spell and hear her implore Makli, the patron goddess of festivals and happy times according to the Aztecs, to let her will be done, he would've worn a nice, sensible pair of pajamas to the infernal pajama movie night.
It wasn't even his fault that he'd bought the dratted pajamas, either. It was all Xander's fault, Xander and his stupid nickname for them all. If the boy had chosen any name but the Scooby Gang, the pajamas might not have caught his eye, and he wouldn't have decided to buy them, just for the hell of it. He wasn't the only one who had fallen prey to the seductive lure of Scooby Doo pajamas. His own were actually the least embarrassing of them all, and it seemed that the others hadn't told a soul about their own dirty little pajama secret. They hadn't even told their respective partners about them.
Buffy and Dawn's reactions to each other's choice of nightwear had been amusing, to say the least. Apparently, neither one of them had realized that they had bought the same pajamas. Bright pink, in this case, with pictures of the cartoon dog's head plastered all over them in different poses. A happy doggy grin, a howling position, and a mouthful of cheeseburger were all featured. Every single one of the aptly named group had come to Buffy's apartment in their Scooby wear.
Now they were all comfortably ensconced together on the large, sectional couch, covered in blankets, and with bowls full of hot popcorn resting precariously on their laps. The movie had just started, and the lights were out. Then the singing began. Which led Giles to wonder yet again, how the hell had he ended up in this ridiculous situation?
After all, here he was, shoved onto a couch with the people he considered his children, all of them wearing pajamas with cartoon dogs on them, watching Hindu movie/musicals with indecipherable meanings. Of course, he knew exactly how he'd ended up sandwiched between his Slayer and her younger sister. Seven pairs of pleading eyes, seven begging voices, and the ever-present statements,
"We need you Giles,"
"All the fun would be gone if we don't get to see the look on your face when you watch one of these things,"
"Come on, where would we be without our fuddy duddy?"
"I'll give you all of the jellies the next time we're in research mode,"
Xander's ploy had done the trick. As soon as he'd gotten written proof of that last statement, witnessed and dated, he'd gone home to get changed. After all, maybe it wouldn't be that bad. And if it wasn't, he could honestly say that he enjoyed it next week, when he skipped "Star Wars" night. That way no one would be able to accuse him of being "sick" on purpose. Besides, Xander always made his way through the jellies faster then the other man could blink.
He shifted slightly in his seat in order to better balance the bowl of popcorn. Good Lord, was that woman singing to a Stavork he-beast? Giles' eyes widened for a second until he realized it was merely a camel with strangely colorful paint sprayed all over it- and a horn sticking out of it!
"What the bloody hell is going on?" Giles asked, staring at the scene incredulously.
A woman was singing a song that he could not understand for the life of him while doing a complicated dance routine from atop the camel. Said camel was doing a tap dance while a small, round man in a tuxedo looked on. Penguins had formed a circle around the camel and were singing and dancing, too. All of this was happening from atop what looked like a glacier.
"She's doing some kind of Dance of Joy because the camel-thing isn't dead, and it grew a horn and changed color," Willow said.
"And Penguin Guy is there because he saved the camel from dying when it choked on one of his pet penguins. Then the penguins started singing and the camel is floating now," Kennedy added.
"I can see that," Giles commented dryly.
"Why is the camel floating?" Andrew asked interestedly. "That's not possible, unless you use a gravity decimation laser, but I don't see one of those, unless that's the real purpose of that weird looking horn."
"Andrew!" was the reply to that ended that ramble.
"How come the penguins are singing? Did they get hit by that Sweet guy?" Buffy asked.
"I didn't see anyone summon anything," Dawn replied.
"No necklaces," Xander observed.
"I didn't see any summoning," Anya pointed out, "if anything, they look like a Miliscairn demon in penguin form."
Her companions looked a bit disturbed at the thought of demons disguised as penguins. Xander looked stricken as he thought of something.
"Can they hide as bunnies?" he asked.
Anya nodded.
"Of course, it's one of their favorite forms. Why do you think I hate those darned things so much? Pet one that doesn't like you and bam! Creepy little twitchy nosed rabbit turns into a giant demon with five rows of teeth that can chomp you up like a carrot," she replied.
Everyone else shuddered.
"Can we move on?" Dawn asked hurriedly, having second thoughts about why her pet rabbit, Furball, had always bitten so hard.
Giles nodded vigorously, "Yes, can't we?"
Anya shrugged.
"Suit yourself," the bunnyphobe said, turning back to the puzzling movie, "but don't blame me if you lose an arm- or your penis." She added as an afterthought.
Giles, Xander, and Andrew all blanched, while Willow, Kennedy, Dawn, and Buffy looked a bit disturbed as they tried to rid themselves of that particular mental image.
"Back to the crazy movie then," Buffy decided after a few minutes pause where the only sound was the television.
"Absolutely," Giles agreed hurriedly.
"Right there with you," Xander said, nodding his head furiously.
"I've never been happier to be gay," was all either Willow or Kennedy would say on the subject.
"I'm just gonna put that picture right next to what I learned in Math last year." Dawn said.
"Can someone use an Andorthian Mind Reliever on me?" Andrew asked, clutching his Darth Maul blanket up to his chest, as if the Star Wars blanket would protect him from the bad pictures.
"I have no idea what that is, but I'd like to request one, also," Giles concurred.
"It's movie time," Buffy said firmly, turning back to the screen.
Soon enough, the others complied, and turned back to the Indian film.
Harry paced in front of the fire impatiently. His emotions were all a tangled mess, anger and euphoria warring inside of him. Who the hell had the right to ruin Hermione's life, not to mention the lives of anyone who cared for her, and make choices that no one should make for another human being. Why had they decided to keep Hermione away from her friends for so long? How could that possibly be a good idea? Why on earth had they decided to tell people that she was dead?
And, most importantly, how could everyone have believed that she was dead? They should've known better, someone should have noticed something off about the story they were fed. How could Dumbledore, the man who never missed a thing, overlook something so important, and condemn them all to eight years apart. It wasn't fair! Harry had thought that about a lot of things in his life and a lot of times, most of which he didn't like to reflect on, but this seemed to be truly needless. That pompous old git, and whoever the hell he worked for, had ripped Hermione out of their lives for no reason whatsoever.
Without warning, the dark-haired man picked up the nearest object- a miniature broomstick that one of Marguerite, Bill's daughter, had left behind- and flung it into the fire. What was taking the others so long? It didn't take an hour to put some passably decent Muggle clothes on, did it? No. So what had everyone been doing for so long?
Kingsley had come to Headquarters two days ago with news of Hermione's new location. 1421 Shipley Terrace, Apartment 201. From what Harry understood, Apartment 201 was a very pricey loft in a high-end district of London. He'd briefly had time to wonder how Hermione could afford a place like that before he realized they had been spending three weeks searching for Hermione when she had been in the same city as the Order all along. Judging by the looks on everyone's faces, Harry guessed he wasn't the only person just slightly miffed about that. Of course, he'd been even more incensed when Dumbledore had made everyone spend two whole days deciding what to do about the new information, if anyone should go meet Hermione, who should go meet Hermione, when they would go meet Hermione, and how the group chosen would get to Hermione. Boring, pointless, and completely infuriating discussions, arguments, and debates of all kinds had filled the air at Grimmauld Place for the past two days, and, quite plainly, both Harry and Ron were well beyond the point of pissed off when a decision was finally made.
Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco, Neville, and Tonks were the group settled upon. Five of them would be familiar faces to the undoubtedly lost and lonely witch, and Tonks was there as backup, and because she just plain wanted to meet the famous lost witch. After all, the clumsy Auror had heard stories about the last member of the broken Trio on and off for the past eight years, especially when someone was drunk, and it didn't hurt to talk about the people they'd all lost over the years.
Flooing and Apparating had been ruled out as methods of transportation. There was the off chance that the address could be wrong, or Hermione could have someone over. The witch, herself, could be unused to it after years of living like a Muggle, and might decide to attack them. So they were walking… in Muggle clothes… through a busy, crowded city, filled with people who actually knew what they were wearing. That was one of the reasons the Order had chosen to meet Hermione at night, that way there would be fewer people around to see a group of inexpertly dressed witches and wizards making their way through London. Harry was actually a bit afraid as to what the others would turn out wearing; it had been years since anyone in the Wizarding World had dressed like a Muggle. Voldemort and his anti-Muggle views had made dressing in anything less then formal dress robes dangerous, and marked a witch or wizard wearing anything else an easy target for any Death Eaters lurking in alleys. It had taken Harry long enough to figure out what clothes would make him look like a Muggle, even after spending the first eleven years of his life thinking he was a Muggle. God only knew what the others would've chosen- four purebloods and a half-blood, none of whom knew much at all about the Muggle World. And if they weren't downstairs in ten minutes, Harry seriously considered leaving without them.
It seemed like the other five had heard his thoughts, because they were all ready to go in a few minutes. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to have done a good job of getting dressed.
Harry looked at them all.
"'Bout time," he commented, sounding much more casual then he felt, "let's get going then?"
Draco shifted nervously as Ron knocked on the door for the third time. Should he be here? He knew that he'd been a right bastard to Granger before she'd left, and he knew he'd still held the beliefs he'd been raised on, then, so it wasn't really his fault. But how would she feel upon seeing her one-time worst enemy? He doubted she'd believe he'd changed; it had taken the others, and himself, long enough to realize that.
The blonde wondered what would happen once Hermione came back. Before she'd left, it had always been the Gryffindor Golden Trio. Nothing and no one could put so much as a crack in their unbreakable friendship. No one could come close as a substitute. Back when the Trio had still been high and mighty, Ginny had been the kid sister to be ignored, and he, himself, had been one more evil Slytherin. Once she was back with her famous friends, would things change? Would things shift back to the way they had once been? If Hermione felt uncomfortable around him, or still hated him, would that be enough to persuade the reformed Trio to stay away from him? To exclude Ginny because they wanted things to go back to the way they were? Draco couldn't get rid of the lingering feeling that both he and Ginny had been nothing more then substitutes to fill in the shoes of the Dream Team's missing member. He felt guilty for it, and he knew Ginny felt the same, but after years of watching the invincible and unknowingly exclusive group, the old insecurities would never go away. After four years of being jealous of the close friendship the three Gryffindors had had, and eight years of feeling that his own friendship couldn't possibly compare to that.
Despite himself, Draco could see the irony in the situation. Him, a Malfoy, someone who'd been raised to think they were superior to everyone else, actually thought he wasn't good enough for someone. And he had Harry and Ron- once Potty and the Weasel- to thank for that. The wizard mentally shook his head. Sometimes he wished he'd listened to his father and stayed on Voldemort's side, maybe if he had, he wouldn't care about losing friends, and he wouldn't have to worry about all of those damned feelings. If he had been a good little pureblood, he might not be bothered when people looked at him and thought that he was evil, too; that Draco would turn out just like his father. But the rational, analytical, occasionally cold, side of Draco- the inner Malfoy, born of years of training to be the best, never take anything at face value, and preparation to join the Dark Lord's ranks- knew that he'd never have wanted that. In the end, he still would have been disillusioned with the life his father led. Draco might have been a git as a child, but he'd never have signed up to torture and murder innocent people. That little voice in his head also told him that he was very glad that he was friends with Harry and Ron, as well as Ginny, Neville, Remus, and the others. It was the first time in his life he'd had anything remotely resembling a family.
So Draco squared his shoulders and waited, resolving to himself to show Granger- no, Hermione- that he'd changed. And maybe things would actually turn out as well as everyone else hoped. Maybe. Of course, just because he was going to show Hermione he'd changed didn't mean he had to be right at the front of the group. Nope, the back was just right. And, no, he was not scared. Malfoy's aren't scared of anything.
Giles smiled at the sight that greeted his eyes. All of "his" children were sleeping peacefully, and for once, they didn't have a care in the world. Xander and Anya were cuddled together, as were Willow and Kennedy. Andrew was curled up, using a purple plush pillow of Dawn's as a teddy. And Buffy and Dawn were currently using Giles, himself, as a pillow. He looked around at the Scoobies with affection clearly written on his face. They had all changed so much over the years, the group he'd always claimed as his own had lost and gained so many members.
Jenny, the only Scooby who had held a romantic place in his heart. Angel, the vampire with a soul who he'd once hated so much, champion of the Powers as much as Buffy, and current CEO of Wolfram and Hart. Oz, the werewolf who had broken Willow's heart, a silent young man who had once been a balancing factor in the Scooby Gang. Cordelia, a blunt young woman who'd annoyed him, not too long ago. He had been proud to hear of the path she'd chosen, and had been saddened to hear of her death. Wesley, his feelings towards the ex-Watcher were much the same as his feelings towards Cordelia, minus the death part, of course. It made him proud to hear that the young man had managed to become the man his father had never wanted him to be, strange as that might sound.
And Riley, what could he say about Riley? The ex-commando had been a strong, upstanding, stalwart figure of society, and a very good man besides that. Giles had liked the boy, that was true, but the sad thing was, Riley had just been a phase. Buffy had wanted what he symbolized, not the man. She'd wanted normal, a life free of the pain and worry and stress of being a Slayer. And much as Riley had tried to be exactly the opposite, and fit in with the world of the Slayer, he never could. That had been his downfall; Buffy could never be herself with someone like that, simply because the supernatural was in her, not just in her life.
Tara, how he wished that she had never died. She had been a Scooby in her own right, not just by association, in those last days before her death. There was so much that had made her one-of-a-kind, and he'd never thought that Willow could be happy with anyone else. Which brought him to Kennedy. Frankly, he'd never thought that the Slayer's relationship with Willow would work out. It had been born of need, and a sense of impending doom, yet her year with Willow, combined with the responsibility Slayer-hood gave her, had matured Kennedy into someone Willow might have a good future with.
Then there was the last of them all, one man-pire whom he'd had some severe misconceptions about, only to be proven wrong in the worst possible way. Spike, being the contrary vampire that he had been, had to go and sacrifice himself to save the world. And manage to break Buffy's heart, on top of it. As if that wasn't enough, he had to do all of that right after Giles realized just how devoted he was to Buffy, and how he had missed the security of knowing his-pseudo daughter was happy and loved, by more then just her friends. The ex-librarian's musings were cut short as the noise that'd woken him up sounded again. With a start, Giles realized someone was knocking at the door at- two o'clock in the morning?
The Watcher gently disentangled himself from the two sleeping girls and went over to the weapon's chest Xander had made Buffy. He quietly pulled out a stake and walked over to the door. After years on the Hellmouth, he'd learned that you could never trust someone was human unless they were in direct sunlight, and it was better to be safe then dead. He held the stake behind his back and opened the door.
"Hello?" he asked the small group of people standing outside.
They all seemed to be around the Scooby's general age, and were dressed in either plaid golf pants or dirty, baggy, ripped jeans.
"Er, we're here to see Her-Buffy," the one nearest him, a tall redhead, said to him.
Giles looked at him curiously. Was that boy really wearing purple polyester pants or had those Hindu movies left some type of mental imprint on him?
"I'll go get her," he said, still trying to figure out if his mind hadn't conjured up something that hideous, because Giles was sure no decent store would sell pants so ugly.
The young man looked positively elated to hear that, raising Giles' suspicions even more. Pants from the fashion-challenged seventies, asking for the Slayer, and beaming when hearing that he'd see her. It didn't take a genius to figure out that there was something wrong with him. And, oh, Dear Lord, he was beginning to think like Buffy.
The Watcher turned back inside, closing the door behind him, and walked over to the couch. He grabbed a furry throw pillow off of the couch and whacked the sleeping Slayer over the head. She instinctively burrowed deeper under the blanket she shared with Dawn. Giles rolled his eyes and hit her over the head again. Finally, the blonde opened her eyes and looked at him, clearly annoyed.
"Why did you have to figure out how to wake me up?" she asked him in an aggrieved tone.
"Because you're too hard-headed to wake up on your own," he responded, "now grab a stake. There are some people asking for you and they don't look normal."
"Demon not-normalness or vampy not-normalness?" Buffy asked as she walked over to her weapons chest.
"Possibly of the vampire variety," Giles responded, careful not to wake the others.
"Ooh, yay! I haven't gotten to make anything go poof since we got here!" Buffy squealed excitedly.
Giles rolled his eyes at her. The two of them walked back over to the closed door and Buffy opened it. Giles hid behind the door, ready to help her out if the strangers turned out to be vampires.
"Hey, I'm Buffy and who are you?" Buffy asked, pushing the stake into her back pocket.
"'Mione?" the redhead asked her.
Buffy's eyes widened as she looked over the strangers.
"Eep." Was all the startled Slayer managed to get out.