Author’s Note: So I had two pages written of this chapter when I put the first one up, but my computer ‘performed an illegal operation’ and closed everything I had up- without letting me save! I know you’re supposed to save every ten minutes but I can’t help but be a little pissed. But the good news is that I re-thought the plot (I’ve actually started planning these things) and some points in this version are a lot clearer. Oh, and I’m aware that Dawn reading Buffy’s diary was the cause of the whole ‘Slayer, Interrupted’ thing. But Joyce could just have easily found it. So yeah, enjoy (or at least give me constructive criticism).
A not-so-vague Disclaimer: I am not Joss Whedon or JK Rowling (though I got really geeky and watched ‘Some Assembly Required’ today to look into my hybrid idea), so I don’t own either ‘verse.
When Buffy stepped out of the shower (the shower that was now only producing hot water at small spurts) there was a knock at her door.
“Just a minute,” she called, towelling herself off and pulling on some clothes.
“I don’t want to buy anything and I have no interest in being ‘saved’, no matter how many virgins you promise me in the afterlife” She warned as she opened the door. She sighed pointedly when she saw who was behind it. It was the blond wizard from the night before.
“When I told you I was a slayer, did that sink in? ‘cause I’m only going to turn you down once more before I break that pretty face of yours.” She said, trying to channel her old self. The boy actually had the decency to look scared, before his face fell into his usual smirk. Buffy was about to shut the door in his face when she heard a loud crack and an older man appeared in Buffy’s doorway.
“Miss Summers, sorry, couldn’t get away from the office.” The man beamed at her before reaching over to shake her hand. “I’m Arthur Weasley.”
“Call me Arthur,” Mr Weasley interrupted. Buffy sighed.
“Arthur. I don’t know what your colleague has told you, but I’m not interested in joining your ‘organisation’. So if you’d just leave me alone.” The man’s face fell, but he recovered quickly.
“Of course, it’s all your choice. But Draco’s told me that you only just found out about your powers. I’m afraid I can’t leave without talking to you about them.”
“It’s fine. I have zero interest in becoming a witch. You really don’t need to worry.” Buffy argued.
“Terribly sorry, but it’s policy.” The man was ridiculously persistent, and actually seemed genuinely Willow-level nice, so Buffy gave up.
“I have to be at work in a couple of hours, so you’ll have to keep it short.” She said, standing aside so they could walk into her apartment. “You can go and sit in the ‘living area’, okay, basically that sofa and chair.” She said, still slightly embarrassed at her accommodation. “Do you want anything to eat or drink? Okay, drink only, because I don’t have any food in.” She said, opening the fridge as if someone might have gone shopping for her. “I have tap water, and one cup.” She said, nodding at the mug that lay upside down on the draining board. Mr Weasley seemed to be listening to her with rapt interest and looked around the apartment before taking out a wand. Or it could have been a stick. He muttered and a tray with a pot of tea, milk, cookies and three cups appeared in mid-air. Okay, it was most probably a wand.
“Molly would have killed me if I hadn’t given you something to eat and drink.” He smiled. Buffy narrowed her eyebrows but accepted the cup of tea he was holding out to her. She took a cookie and dunked it in her tea, vaguely remembering one of Giles’ rants about proper tea-drinkage. That led her to think about his rants about her liberty-taking when it came to the English language. She smiled sadly.
“So, Draco tells me that you were completely unaware of your heritage. That you were raised as a muggle.” Mr Weasley started.
“Yeah, I guess my mom didn’t want me to know.”
“And you didn’t show any powers when you were younger?” When Buffy frowned he continued. “Normally young witches and wizards start showing power when they’re about seven years old. Any strange occurrences? Telekinesis, that sort of thing?”
“Not when I was little.”
“But it has happened?”
“Sort-of, last year I started to be able to do weird things. Like rip petals off flowers and make things disappear, just if I looked at them for long enough.”
“And that’s only been in the past year?” He looked perplexed but turned to the boy next to him. “Well, can you feel anything?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have approached her if I hadn’t. There’s nothing wrong with her power.” The boy bristled. He was obviously uncomfortable with being questioned.
“I died.” Buffy said. Both wizards looked at her in shock and she continued. “A little over a year ago I died. I was resuscitated, obviously, but a new slayer was called and everything. Maybe it has something to do with it.” Mr Weasley looked at the blonde boy- Draco, he had called him, for confirmation.
“It’s plausible. We already know that witches can’t be slayers and vice-versa. Probably something to do with the demon essence. If that’s what’s passed on, it would mean that her power could be free.” He said. Buffy resisted the urge to stick her tongue out. He was her age and he was already talking like a mini-Giles.
“Well, this is interesting.” Mr Weasley smiled. “We just need to talk about your power surge the day before yesterday.”
“I didn’t do anything. I worked that night. No magic there.” She protested.
“Then you got into a fight on your way home.” Draco said.
“All I did was scare off some guys who were giving me a hard time. I didn’t do any occul-whatsit.”
“Something happened. I can still feel the power from it around you.” He pressed.
“As I said last night, you need your third-eye checked.”
“Why are you trying to lie to me?”
“Draco, I think it’s time we left.” Mr Weasley stood up as if to leave.
“No, we’re trying to help her and she’s lying to us. We need to know what happened.”
“Mind-rape is what I’d call it.” Buffy started, Mr Weasley sat back down. “Some guys were trying to hit on me and when I tried to walk away they did something to my brain. They went through every one of my memories, things that nobody knows, pushed me through them and then silenced them, tried to force me to go along with them. So I fought, I tried to shut down my mind and pushed the energy back to them. And then I ran. Did you really need to know that? That some sicko forced me to relive my worst nightmares because I wouldn’t go home with him?” They were silent at her admission for a few minutes before Draco spoke.
“Then why don’t you want to fight? Because this will happen again if you don’t.”
“I don’t fight anymore.”
“Why the fuck not? You’re a slayer. You’re supposed to be saving mankind and you’re hiding here.”
“Okay, let’s talk about ‘supposed tos’. I’m a teenage girl, I’m supposed to hang out at the mall, have parents that tell me the truth, have never experienced death because of a prophecy, not have to give up the person that I loved more than I thought possible because of a curse.” She had tears in her eyes but she blinked them away. “I should be with my friends but I guess I’m not allowed to have that. Some guys decided to have a human sacrifice and I just so happened to be the one girl in my generation chosen to be it. I’m not fighting for a world that lets those things happen. I’m not that girl anymore.”