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For Good or Bad, the Memories Remain

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Summary: Buffy is troubled by memories not quite remembered

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Highlander > Buffy-CenteredAradanFR154736,14902647,1845 Nov 048 Oct 06No

For Good or Bad, the Memories Remain

For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain.

Disclaimer- I don’t own BTVS, nor the impending crossover, I only own my created characters, for all the good that does me.

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually


Buffy wakes up, a scream tearing at the back of her throat, unable to break free. Stark terror deep in her eyes, she struggles to bring some semblance of control back to her trembling form. The dreams deny her sleep, and are coming more frequently. She stumbles to the bathroom to splash some water on her face in a vain attempt to recover from another most unrestful night.

“Willow, wake up! You‘ve got to help me, I can’t stand the nightmares, they wake me up, and I can’t even remember what they are, I just know I’m terrified, and the sheets are soaked.” She pleaded

Willow looked at her friend, stunned by her normally glowing, bouncy friend’s unsettlingly spiral into wasted oblivion.” When did all this start?”

“About a week ago, right after we found that girl in the cemetery”

“Do you think that might have anything to do with it? She was pretty scary looking.”

“Willow, we’ve seen Ichlu Demons, vampires galore, the Mayor as a true demon and the rise and fall of the parachute pant. That girl wasn’t scary, she was sad. I don’t know how she got that way but I know I’ll never end up like that.”

”So, about this spell you want. You wanting something to make the dreams go away or to remember what they are? Wait, more importantly, did you ask Giles?”

“Giles is wrapped up in research mode on the new girl and I don’t want him wiggin more than he already does until I get some answers.”

“Well, it would take a little time to research the right spell and get the stuff, so give me some time”

“Be quick about it, I can’t sleep anymore. I don’t know what to do. It’s turning me into a zombie….the bumping into things non thinking kind, not the b rate movie dead kind.”

Several hours later….

“Buffy, I think I have it. The spell of Daloc is supposed to sharpen and restore all lost memories. Hmmm, ‘all’. I don’t know, ‘all’ might be bad. You might get all clogged up with 5th grade reading assignments”

I don’t think that ‘all’ should be a problem, I might even remember where I put those white flats I lost last month. How long will this take?”

“It depends on the amount of memories needed to be restored. It looks like about 3-5 minutes should do it unless you’re all scrambled. Then it should only take a few more minutes to finish.”

The room was barren except for a chalk symbol and the requisite candles. Buffy lay in the middle of the floor. Willow began the chant; a soft glow filled the room.

‘Cool, this should work’ thought Willow, just before a surge hit. The glow became a blaze of light, and Buffy rose off the floor writhing as if she were being electrocuted.

Giles was digging into his tomes, looking for anything that would corroborate what he was able to get out of her delirious rambles, as incredible as her story sounded.

The scarred and battered girl lay on the bed, deep in a feverish state, as she has been since Buffy found her in one of the cemeteries lying in a large pile of vamp dust, stake in hand. She was covered in her own blood.

Earlier that week……

At first glance, she is a beautiful young woman but as you get closer, you can see the fine lines of time, stress and violence etched in her once porcelain features. Her face is drawn and gaunt, her once vibrant blue eyes holding a sunken and tormented quality within their pale grey depths where once joy and innocence reigned. Her tall frame is rail thin, just muscle and sinew pulled taught over bone. Her movements are hauntingly graceful and brutally quick, vicious like watching a cheetah on the prowl. She is a person driven by her need to destroy her own personal demons, knowing she could never erase nor forget what has happened to her. If she were to misplace those memories for a moment or two, all it would take to remind her would be to glance in a mirror. Her scars are still quite visible to her, first the horrible ritualistic ones from the lynch mob, and the later ones from the many years of continual combat. The agony of just walking was once overwhelming, but she has lived with it for so long that life without pain is barely a memory. She has been fighting so much for so long that the idea of a quiet happy life without violence is but a wisp of memory. Her system is so torn up from the magics and the conflicts that coughing up blood is the norm now, yet her body and mind refuse to quit, refuse to give in. She hears them coming for her, several by the sound of it. Maybe they will finally get her, but they won’t win. She was sure of that.


Tara stops by in the morning to see Willow and is shocked by what she sees. The room is in total disarray, Buffy is floating in a pool of glowing light and Willow is lying in the floor. She rushes to Willow fearing the worst.


To Be Continued

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