The Champion

Summary: Denying Death has consequences. Buffy Summers discovers this as she is resurrected after drowning at the hands of the Master, awakening the memories of her first life as Acacia Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived. Now she has to reconcile her past with her present and be the Slayer Sunnydale needs, while dealing with Death's demands.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, or anything else mentioned in this fic. None of it belongs to me. I appreciate all of the encouraging reviews. As for the select few who like to post reviews about how unoriginal my story is, if this isn't your cup of tea, just click out and go somewhere else already. I write for fun, not for reviews.

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Chapter 5: When She Was Bad (Changed) Part 3

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Lowering the sledgehammer, Buffy panted as she turned to stare at the bones of the Master, placed delicately on the table.

Two lifetimes. In both, she'd had her innocence torn away as she'd fought for her life, day by day.

She had never wanted to fight. All she'd ever wanted was to have a family and friends that loved her. She'd never wanted to be the Savior, cursed to die in order to kill the greatest threat of the magical world. She'd never wanted to be the Slayer, destined to die at sixteen and fight the monsters that hid in the dark.

Part of Buffy wished she'd never gone down into that pit, never fought the Master, never awoken the part of her that was Acacia.

Rage flared to life in her chest and her heartbeat quickened, reminding her of an engine that had been pushed into overdrive.

The cool metal seemed to warm under her fingers as she tightened her grip, stepping closer to the table of bones.

Lifting it over her head, Buffy brought the hammer down hard. The sounds of cracking and breaking echoed in her ears as she brought it down again and again.

She stopped, chest heaving, as she stared down at the fine dust that coated the table, the tiny fragments of bone that lay scattered.

"I don't believe in Fate," she whispered, dropping the hammer with a clatter. "So you can go get shagged if you think you can control me."

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Buffy looked up at the upper floor, where everyone stood watching her.

"Is everyone alright?"

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"I think it's time for that conversation now," Buffy said simply as Giles opened the door, blinking in surprise.

"Oh alright," Giles stepped aside, letting her walk past him. "It's rather late. What about your mother?"

Buffy made a beeline for the kitchen, making herself a glass of water. "Will's covering for me. I told Mom I'm staying the night with her but I'll be staying here if that's alright."

"Of course, you know you're always welcome," he agreed. "Is this a conversation for tea?"

"Maybe tea with a dash of something stronger," she chuckled, finishing off her glass of water in one go. "Tea would be nice though."

"Buffy, are you alright?" her Watcher questioned carefully, voice soft. He watched her as he started preparing two cups of chamomile tea.

Gentle waves of concern flowed over their bond. He was worried about whatever had made her so nervous.

And she was nervous. Buffy knew she was making the right decision telling him but she was afraid of how he would react to the news.

"I'm scared of how you'll react to what I tell you," she admitted honestly, biting her lip. She leaned against the counter, tapping her nails against the hard surface. "It's not exactly conventional."

"I promise that nothing you could tell me would make me react as badly as I'm sure you're imagining," he finished with the tea, handing her one of the steaming mugs and ushering her towards the couch. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Kicking off her shoes, she curled up on the end of the couch, allowing herself to see both the door and the majority of the living room. A delicious warmth crept through her hands from the mug's surface as she sipped at it gingerly, pleased to find it wasn't too hot.

Giles met her gaze steadily, patiently waiting.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy started the conversation every bone in her body was dreading.

"Do you believe in past lives, Giles?"

"I do," he acknowledged, eyes thoughtful as he regarded her. "There are numerous records of people remembering fragments of their past lives. Things such as tastes, smells, sights, that allow them to glance back at a past their brain didn't consciously remember. The concept of déjà vu is a prime example of it. The Slayer line had so many women who fought and died in battle. It wouldn't be a surprise if you started experiencing their memories."

"That makes sense," Buffy felt a flicker of curiosity as she wondered at the lives of the Slayers that came before her. "Have there been any Slayers who….weren't normal?"

"What do you mean?" his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the bland phrasing.

"I mean," she bit her lip, flexing her fingers against the mug nervously as she tried to find a delicate way to say what she meant. "Have there been any Slayers who were already involved in the supernatural? Were there any that had magic?"

Giles' gaze sharpened as he shook his head slowly. "None that the Council was aware of. None that had any type of magical or demonic heritage. Why do you ask?"

None that the Council was aware of. That was an alarming phrase to Buffy because it indicated certain things. This Council, the ones who monitored the Slayer line, was something that she wasn't too sure of. People who watched and didn't get involved, who preferred to stand on the sidelines out of danger.

"I think in one of my past lives, I was a witch," Buffy said slowly, choosing her words with care.

Interested sparked, Giles leaned forward. "If I may ask, what exactly do you remember?"

"I remember a war," Buffy chose to be vague, erring on the side of caution. "I remember fighting in it. I remember having magic."

"A war?" Giles repeated, confused. "There hasn't been a magical war in centuries. There's always small skirmishes but nothing at the scale you're referring to. It doesn't make sense."

Buffy shrugged awkwardly, knowing it didn't make sense but not wanting to explain it fully.

"Was this witch a Slayer also or…?"

"No, she wasn't a slayer," she shook her head. "She was a student, then a soldier, from what I can tell. I don't know much."

"This is fascinating," Giles remarked, eyes gleaming with interest behind his glasses. "You remember a past life but it's not a past Slayer. That's very interesting."

Buffy watched him wearily, waiting for the other shoe to drop. So far, he seemed pleasantly surprised but she wondered what he would think if he knew what she'd done with her magic.

"And now? Do you still have magic?" He asked, drawing her attention back to the present.

"I don't know," Buffy shrugged, unsure of the answer to that question. "It wasn't like the magic Amy's mom used. I didn't call on any gods or goddesses."

"Then where did it come from? That kind of power has to come from somewhere."

"It came from me, from my soul I think. It was mine," she spoke quietly, remembering the feel of lightning running through her veins, warm and reassuring.

"You miss it," he realized, making her glance over at him. "I've never heard of magic like that. It always has a connection to another power."

"Mine didn't," Buffy argued, shaking her head. "From what I remember, it was mine alone. It acted off my desires and my fears. It protected me when it could."

Giles nodded slowly, studying her quietly for a long moment.

"That sounds wonderful," he mused. "My experience with magic was not so kind."

"Magic was always wonderful," Buffy murmured, remembering how marvelous it could be. "But magic was a tool. Some people chose to create with it and others chose to destroy."