Disclaimer: As usual, the characters are not mine, nor will they ever be. That doesn't mean I can't take them out for a little air now and again, however.
Rating: PG13 I guess - minor violence and a little questionable language
Spoilers: Up through "Who Are You?/This Year's Girl"
Author's note: Special thanks to my medical advisor (and friend) Pat. You know someone is your best friend when they don't even ask why you need to cause a certain brain injury, they just tell you how.
Teaser: An injury in the line of duty gives Buffy a new perspective on her recent choices in life.

"I love you, Buffy."

The words spun unceasingly past her mind's eye, as though they were bannered just below the Daily Planet sign on the globe outside Clark Kent's office. Over and over again, as she trudged through the dark and lonely cemetery, Buffy Summers replayed them in her mind.

"I love you, Buffy."

Riley had said it again tonight just before she left for patrol, and just after she'd refused to let him come with her. Ever since the first time he'd told her he loved her, she'd stopped letting him patrol with her. She'd also stopped dropping by his room unexpectedly, and hanging around after class to talk with him. What had once been a simple, uncomplicated romance was now rife with pitfalls and hidden dangers.

Because she couldn't repeat the phrase to him, and she knew how that must hurt him.

He never said anything specific, of course. He would just look at her with those blue puppy dog eyes of his, and flick that single lock of hair off his face so he could see her clearly. Then, when she changed the subject, or simply bolted, he would sigh and pretend it didn't matter.

But it did matter.

Buffy wanted to answer him with the words he was longing to hear. She would have even settled for explaining why she couldn't offer them. But whenever she tried, a great dark wall came down in front of her. She couldn't breach it, or climb it, or even see past it. All she could do was back away, and then it would disappear. Until the next time.

"It's not fair," she complained to herself as she swung her crossbow and scanned the area for demons. "He's a great guy. He's everything I ever said I wanted. He's smart and considerate and human, let's not forget human." She contemplated her new boots for a moment before she grudgingly continued. "Okay, so he's also a steroid-dependent commando-type yes-man, but I can deal. I should be able to say this. It's just three little words. It was never this hard before."

Before. That was the problem. She knew the wall she couldn't breach was also the past she couldn't talk about. Riley knew nothing about Angel, or their deep and ultimately doomed passion. He knew nothing because Buffy couldn't bring herself to trivialize the past with mere words. As long as her past with Angel remained a mystery to Riley, she could keep a small flame of it alive in her heart. Once she broke that seal and let the past go…it would be gone. And she wasn't ready for that yet.

Unfortunately, clinging to the past was disrupting her here and now. Buffy was desperately trying to establish a solid relationship with a solid, dependable guy, but she couldn't help comparing it, and him, to what she had lost. It was like comparing fluorescent lights to moonbeams. The trouble was, you couldn't hold on to moonbeams.

"It's just so frustrating. I have worked so hard for this." Buffy paused to lean against a tall headstone. She tried to keep a weathered eye out for trouble, but the majority of her attention was focused inward. "I have really tried to make things right, and I can't blow it all on three stupid words."

Three stupid words that once meant the world to her when they were said to, and heard from, the right guy.

She glanced up to the heavens, searching for an answer to her dilemma. "Why are you doing this to me? I thought I was acting just like I'm supposed to. Moving on and letting go. All right, so maybe I can't exactly let go but I am moving on, as fast as I can. Why isn't that enough for him? Why do we have to bring the L-word into it?"

The only answer she received came in the form of a large tree limb applied to the side of her head. She saw a shower of stars fall from the sky as a single burst of pain shot through her skull.

Then there was darkness.

* * * * *

The dead grass was tickling her nose.

Buffy sneezed, and sat up slowly. The cemetery, she was in the cemetery. Not an unusual place for her to be at night, but why was she lying on the ground? And why did her head throb so badly? She put a hand just above her ear and felt a large swollen area. When she took a look at her hand a moment later, she saw blood.

"Oh boy," she muttered grimly. She quickly glanced around the graveyard. "Faith," she called out hesitantly. "Faith, old buddy, old pal, are you out there?"

No answer. Given Faith's recent turn to the dark side that was probably a good thing. But someone had clocked her, and she couldn't for the life of her remember who. Most vamps wouldn't have left it at simple assault and battery, and she would have had to be pretty distracted to let a mugger get the best of her. Still, there was no sign of her purse or backpack, and she never went slaying without at least one of them. There was also the absence of a weapon to consider. She never left home without one of those.

She managed to get to her feet, but the pounding in her skull was really bugging her and she felt a little weak in the knees. Experience told her these symptoms would quickly fade, but since she seemed to be without weaponry or back up, it was probably a good idea to head for home and live to fight another day.

Buffy was too tired by the time she reached Revello Drive to make much of the fact that her mother had locked her out. With a sigh, she climbed the tree outside her bedroom, scrambled across the roof and forced the lock on her window, which was also inexplicably fastened. She barely noticed the cluster of boxes in her room, or the jumble of linens on the unmade bed. She simply kicked off her boots and crawled across the bed, pulling the closest blanket over her.

Home at last.

* * * * *

"Honey."

Buffy dimly heard a voice call to her, as a hand gently shook her shoulder.

"Buffy, honey, you need to wake up." The voice, and the hand, became more insistent.

"Mom?" Buffy rolled over on the bed, noticing the tangled blankets and scattered boxes lit by the morning sun. "Mom, what's all this stuff doing in my room?" She sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of what she saw.

Joyce Summers sat down on the edge of the bed and regarded her daughter with some alarm. "More importantly, what are you doing in your room? Did you and Willow have a fight?"

Buffy stared quizzically at her mother. "No, we're good," she responded slowly. "But what does Willow have to do with me sleeping in my own room? And I still want to know why…" her voice trailed off as her gaze fell upon her mother's wristwatch. "Holy cow!" she cried as she grabbed her mother's wrist and pulled the watch closer for a better look. "Is that the right time? Oh man, Snyder is going to kill me if I'm late for French one more time." She jumped off the bed and ran to pull open the louvered closet door.

"Buffy, what are you…"

Buffy interrupted her as she turned back slowly to face her mother. "Mom, where are all my real clothes? These are just the things I vowed never to wear again upon pain of death. Or the hellmouth reopening; whichever comes first."

Joyce hurried over to look at the offending clothes, but when she stood next to Buffy she suddenly noticed the traces of dried blood in her daughter's blonde hair.

"Honey," Joyce said as she parted Buffy's hair to inspect the underlying bruise, "do you remember getting hurt last night? On your head, maybe?" She pulled Buffy around so she could take Buffy's face in her hands and look deep into her eyes.

Buffy stared back, slightly confused but reassuringly alert. "I'm not sure. I remember I had a headache, and I think I was lying on the ground. I guess I could have been knocked out. But I don't think I patrolled last night."

"We need to call Mr. Giles," Joyce said firmly. "You get back in bed and let me take care of this." She pushed Buffy towards the bed, but Buffy evaded her hands and spun around to face her.

"Mom, I told you, Snyder is looking for a reason to flunk me. I am so close to graduation; I don't want to blow it now." Her hazel eyes pleaded for understanding.

Unfortunately, Joyce understood too well. "Buffy, what day is it?" she asked very gently, trying not to show her rising panic.

It immediately raised her daughter's antennae. She leaned forward and peered into Joyce's eyes. "Wednesday. What day is it on your planet, Mom?"

"The date, Buffy. What's the date?"

Easy, Joyce, she told herself; just breathe. She clenched her jaw and tried to project the correct answers into Buffy's head.

"April 28th." Joyce made a circular motion with her hand and Buffy continued. "1999. Did you lose your filofax or something?"

Joyce closed her eyes as her suspicions were confirmed. "Just go back to bed, honey. I'll explain when Mr. Giles gets here." Buffy started to protest, forcing Joyce to continue. "And I'll call the school and tell them you'll be out today. I'm sure Principal Snyder will understand."

"As if," Buffy grumbled, but she climbed back in bed anyway. "I may have saved the school from the killer lunch lady yesterday, but he takes the 'what have you done for me lately' attitude to the extreme.

* * * * *

Voices outside her room woke Buffy the next time. For a moment she thought her clairvoyance had returned and she whimpered as she pulled the pillow over her head. The sound of footsteps and bickering made her realize her error. She pulled the pillow from her head and smiled weakly at her mother and friends in the doorway.

"Sorry guys, rough couple of days." She sat up and checked out the worried expressions on her friends' faces as they filed into the room. Her mother had only said she was going to call Giles, but the whole gang seemed to be here. Well, there were one or two exceptions, but it was daylight after all. "Umm, why is everyone in my room? Did my mom call everybody in sick? You know Snyder will think something is up if we're all out at the same time."

There was a universal wince at her mention of the late, and unlamented, Principal Snyder. Buffy noticed the reaction, but since mentioning Snyder rarely brought a smile to anyone's face, she thought nothing of it.

Giles sat down on the bed beside her, resting his hand gently on her own. "Buffy, I'm not quite sure how to explain this. Your mother said you have a bruise and some dried blood on the side of your head when you awoke this morning. I believe you were attacked on patrol last night and that has caused some memory loss. Just temporary, I'm sure," he hastened to assure her.

"Giles, I don't think I patrolled last night." Buffy was getting very confused. She could feel the sore spot above her ear, and the dried blood, but she didn't remember how they got there. She remembered last night very clearly, though. "I went over to Angel's after dinner, and he walked me home. I don't know how I got to the cemetery, but I remember waking up there with this bump. Could I have been sleepwalking?"

"Angel's?" Giles said faintly. "You were with Angel last night?"

Buffy blushed slightly, but looked him squarely in the eyes. "Yes, I was. We had a lot of things to talk out, but I think we're cool now. The whole Faith thing is totally behind us."

She felt a warm glow at the memory of last night. They had talked long and hard about their past misunderstandings, and it hadn't been easy. But eventually the talking was done, and then they just held each other in front of the dying firelight. She awoke just before dawn to find herself still wrapped in his arms, and the smile on his face when he woke up a few minutes later was blinding. There was barely enough time for him to walk her home and get back to shelter himself, but he insisted and she didn't want to waste one more minute of their lives apart.

"That's weird," she mused, not realizing she was thinking out loud. "He walked me home at dawn, but it was dark in the cemetery when I woke up later."

"Gulp," Willow said.

"The Faith thing?" Giles was fairly certain where Buffy's memory ended in terms of events, but he wanted to feel his way carefully lest he reveal more than she was ready to hear. His brief study of amnesia, made during the wait for Anya to find an appropriate pair of shoes for the occasion, suggested memories should be retrieved rather than given.

"Giles, you're scaring me." There was genuine concern in Buffy's voice, and on her face as she looked around the room at her friends. "You're all giving me the wiggins. What is wrong? Angel cured me, I stopped Jonathan from killing himself, and the lunch lady from killing everyone else and now Angel and I are back together. And they all lived happily ever after." She fought back the little voice inside her that said slayers never actually got that particular ending to the fairy tale.

"Okay, how much do we say? Any suggestions?" Xander was trying to remain calm, but Buffy wasn't the only one with the wiggins. The Slayer was the one they all depended upon to keep it together when the world was coming apart. Suddenly she had retreated in her own mind and he felt helpless and abandoned.

Buffy lost patience with her family and friends at that point. She threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed, pushing past Anya on her way to her closet.

"I don't know what is wrong with you guys, so I'm going to go ask someone who will give me a straight answer." She grabbed a pair of grubby old sneakers from the bottom of her closet and shoved her feet in them as she spoke. "If you need me, I'll be at Angel's."

"Buffy, wait!" Willow grabbed Buffy's arm as she tried to leave. She knew she couldn't forcibly restrain Buffy, she just needed to slow her down. "You can't see Angel right now. You'll…you'll wake him up," she stammered.

Buffy glanced narrowly at her. "He won't mind, Will. Trust me." She looked more closely at her best friend. "And what did you do to your hair?"

"He's not there," Anya said flatly. She threw up her hands at the resulting glares she received from the Slayerettes. "What, you want her to go wander around an empty mansion calling out his name like some pathetic gothic heroine? Tell the girl she's gone Anastasia and have done with it."

Buffy looked from one averted face to another. Only Anya would face her, so she cautiously approached the former demon.

"Are you trying to tell me I have amnesia, or my family has been killed by communist revolutionaries?"

"If the brain disorder fits…" Anya replied cheerily. She regretted her flip response a moment later, when she saw Xander wince. "Sorry, I mean yes. We're live, you're on not-so-instant replay."

Buffy wandered past her friends to stand in front of her bedroom window. She rested one hand on the glass while she absently rubbed her aching head with the other. "This is nuts. I know what day it is, I know what happened yesterday and I know what we'll be facing in a few weeks. I'm fine. Why are you all doing this to me?" She whirled around to face her tormentors, but saw only old friends with pained expressions.

"Buffy," Giles began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Okay, so I'm broadcasting from Planet Denial. So tell me the real story. When is it supposed to be? And where is Angel?" She crossed her arms and perched on the windowsill, waiting for an answer.

"Almost exactly a year later than you think," Willow answered gently. "We're in college now, Buffy, you and me and Anya. UC Sunnydale actually. Xander is living…"

"Where is Angel?" Buffy repeated urgently, leaning forward to stare into Willow's eyes. They were hiding something from her, she could feel it. She had a sudden, desperate fear that it concerned Angel. Maybe the cause for all this confusion was that the truth was too much to bear.

"He's gone, sweetie," Joyce said as she crossed the room to stand by her daughter's side. "He left town almost a year ago. He's fine, I'm sure, but he's not in your life anymore." Concern for her daughter's welfare overrode her usual gratitude for that particular development.

Buffy dimly heard them begin to debate how much else she should be told. She pushed away all the noise as unimportant. The only thing that mattered was Angel, and he wasn't here. He saved her life, they spent most of the night working out their problems, and now he was gone.

So much for "No matter what, I'll always be with you."

* * * * *

"I still think she needs to be at home for a few days. She needs rest and someone to look after her."

They were arguing about her again. They had been at this for an hour now, going round and round. Her mother had sent her off to shower, and by the time she got out the party had moved downstairs. Buffy sat at the top of the stairs, neglected and forlorn, as her family and friends decided what to do about Amnesia Girl.

"Joyce, I understand you want to take care of her, it's only natural." Giles' voice was patient, but strained. It had been many months since he'd had to deal with overwrought maternal instincts, and he really hadn't missed the experience. "I do feel, however, that Buffy would recover her memory quicker if she resumes her normal life. Willow and Anya are right there; they can keep an eye on her."

"And Riley," Willow added helpfully. "She'll probably remember everything once she sees him."

"Yes, I'm sure this is just a temporary situation anyway," Giles eagerly agreed. "She's a Slayer, she heals very quickly."

"I still think…"

Buffy recognized Joyce's stubborn 'I'm your mother and I know what's best for you, young lady' tone in an instant. If Willow and Giles thought they could convince Joyce Summers anyone else could care for her sick child, they were in for a rude surprise. With a sigh, Buffy got to her feet. They could argue all they wanted; she had other plans.

The window worked as well as it always had for speedy and private exits. She slid down the roof and dropped to the ground with none of her well-meaning captors any the wiser. From there it was just a brief jog to the mansion on Crawford Street. Regardless of how much she trusted her friends, she needed to see for herself that Angel was truly gone.

* * * * *

She could tell the moment she walked in the door that Angel didn't live there anymore. It wasn't the sheets on the furniture, or even the absence of the few works of art he'd kept with him over the centuries. There was an intangible void where she usually felt his essence, the part she'd always been able to feel when he was near. She didn't know whether she was actually able to sense his mind (contrary to his belief that vampires can't project thoughts), or if it was his soul she could feel. Whatever it was, it was gone, and there was nothing but an empty aching hole in its place.

She didn't call out to him; there was no point. Instead, she wandered silently through the rooms, plucking at the dustcloths and searching for some sign she too had almost lived there. There was nothing of hers left, in any of the rooms, but this pleased her in an odd way. It was possible she had removed her possessions herself, but she preferred to think he had taken them with him as talismans against the dark. She hoped that somewhere among her things were similar tokens from him.

She wondered if he'd left in a hurry, or had they had a long good-bye? Did he tell her where he was going, or did he just vanish into the night as mysteriously as he'd appeared? Did they call, or write to each other?

Did he still love her, or had last night just been comforting words offered to a sick child?

In the end, there was nothing left to hold her there. Without Angel's presence, it was just a dusty old mansion filled with as many ghosts as cobwebs.

Buffy slowly made her way back to her mother's house, but she didn't bother with the window this time. She walked in the front door and into the living room, startling her still-quibbling friends.

"Show me the way to the dorm, Will. I'm not going to find any answers here."

* * * * *

Willow was nervous. Buffy hadn't said a word on the drive back to school, or during the brief, Giles-sanctioned, tour of the campus designed to reacquaint her with her new home. Buffy looked, and nodded and even half-smiled on occasion, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere.

Elsewhere unfortunately being a year in the past.

Willow was so busy watching Buffy not paying attention, she herself didn't notice a major danger until Buffy was already trapped in an unfamiliar embrace. She quickly realized that the Slayer's reflexes had not been affected by the head trauma when Buffy easily flipped her captor over her shoulder without an instant's hesitation.

"What the…"

Willow bent over to help Riley to his feet. "Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, glancing at Buffy standing calm and self-assured in front of them. "She's not feeling exactly herself today. I actually thought maybe seeing you might…but I guess not. You might want to wait…oh, please wait."

Riley was in Buffy's face again before Willow could stop him. He reached out to lightly touch her cheek, but stepped back in confusion when she flinched and knocked his hand away.

"Listen, Romeo, I really don't appreciate the touchy-feely stuff from strangers, and my boyfriend doesn't find it too amusing either." With a stab of pain, she realized she couldn't use those words anymore. Whatever she and Angel had been, they were no longer.

Riley smiled in relief. Games again, she was always playing games with him. "So, is this boyfriend big and tough, or is he the sensitive type?" He moved a little closer, invading her personal space. His body language screamed of an intimacy she could not understand.

She gazed coolly at him, absently noting the bland, blond good looks and confident manner. Obviously another frat boy on the make, very much like Cordelia's lecherous demon snake-worshipping object of desire junior year. Actually, subtract an inch or two of height and the resemblance to Richard was uncanny. Now there was a turn-on.

"He's all of the above, actually," she said at last. There was no point in backing down now and admitting that he was also no longer in town. "But I don't need him to protect me from someone like you. Run along, little boy. I'm sure somewhere there's a helpless co-ed who enjoys being stalked. But it's not me."

Buffy turned and began to walk toward the building Willow had indicated was their dorm, not bothering to check if the annoying stranger was following her. She only hoped Willow would catch up before she actually reached Stevenson Hall and had to locate their room.

* * * * *

"Willow, I'll be fine, honest." Buffy crossed her legs on her bed and pulled Mr. Gordo onto her lap for comfort. "You don't have to baby-sit me, no matter what Giles or my mom say."

"Buffy, I'm still not sure this is such a good idea," Willow said doubtfully as she rummaged through her dresser drawers. "You don't know your way around here, or at least you don't remember it, so what if you need something? And after what happened with Riley this afternoon…"

"Willow, I'm sorry. I promise I won't flip any more strangers unless they have fangs. Now will you please go meet your study group?" Buffy barely suppressed the whine she could feel building in the back of her throat. She had been under constant observation from her well-meaning friend since they left her mother's house, and it was getting on her nerves. Unfortunately, she was also without her usual option of killing things to let off steam. Giles made it clear he would handle patrol tonight, and she had other plans anyway. That is, if Willow would leave her alone.

"Buffy, he wasn't a stranger." Willow gave up looking through her drawers for her favorite choker and joined Buffy on her bed. "He's your boyfriend. You really like him, and you threw him over your shoulder like he was Spike or something." A thought suddenly occurred to Willow. "Oh, and if Spike comes by, don't stake him. I know I'm supposed to let you remember stuff on your own, but he's sort of with us now. I wouldn't want to be dusting him up off the floor just because you forgot some stuff."

"Like the past year," Buffy grumbled. She cocked her head and eyed Willow curiously. "Spike is a good guy? How did that happen?"

"I wouldn't say good guy, exactly," Willow hedged. "He just can't be a bad guy anymore. Performance problems." She suddenly jumped up from the bed with a stricken expression. "And I'm not going to say another word about it."

"As if I wanted the gory details. Okay, no staking Spike, or Riley for that matter. You did say his name was Riley, right?" She frowned. "Riley Finn. What kind of a name is that, anyway?"

"I wouldn't throw those stones too hard, Buff," Willow replied with a gentle smile. "If you're really sure you'll be okay…"

Buffy scrambled off the bed and began to push Willow towards the door. "Go. Have a life. I'll catch up…when I catch up."

Willow glanced quizzically at her, but obediently grabbed her rucksack and left for her coven meeting. Buffy firmly closed the door behind her and leaned against it until her sharp ears heard the sound of Willow's footsteps on the stairs at the end of the hall. A quick twist of the lock to further ensure privacy and she was good to go.

"Okay, time to turn Amnesia Girl into Research Girl," she murmured, wandering around her side of the room. Her eyes darted from one object to another, some familiar and some not. "Now, if I were me, where would I hide my diary?"

* * * * *

Two hours later Buffy hastily stuffed her diary back into the fake book where she'd found it as she heard the rasp of Willow's key in the lock.

"Ye gods, what a mess I've made," she said as she put the book back on her bookshelf. She sighed and ran a hand through her strangely long blonde hair, trying to figure out where to begin repairs.

"Hey, Buff," Willow called out cheerily as she pushed open the door. "Miss me?" She threw her rucksack on her bed and gazed at Buffy with a determinedly cheerful expression on her face.

"Willow, I'm missing almost everything right now, including my mind," Buffy replied honestly. She started to slowly approach Willow, trying not to make any sudden or intimidating movements as she stalked her. "Umm, I have something I need to ask you, and I know you're not going to want to answer because of what Giles said, but you have to. I absolutely, positively need to know and I need to know now." She looked steadily at her best friend, willing her the strength to disobey their surrogate father.

Willow inched away from Buffy's hypnotic gaze. "Buffy, I really think…" she began uneasily, as she looked around for an escape route.

"Where's Faith?" Buffy interrupted her.

"Faith?" Willow abruptly ceased her retreat. The question was puzzling, but unexpectedly simple. She never thought she would be so happy not to know the right answer. "I have no idea where Faith is right now. Why?"

"So she's out there somewhere roaming around?" Buffy turned away from Willow and began to wander around the room. She ran her hands over the debris on her dresser, picked up and discarded stuffed animals, all the while trying to carefully formulate her questions. She needed to attain maximum information with minimal exposure of her own knowledge. "Faith hates me, and she hates Angel, and we have no idea where she is or where she could strike next. She could have even been the one who hit me last night," Buffy added craftily. She whirled around to face Willow. "Does Angel know?"

"About Faith?" Willow squeaked. Uh oh, we're back on Angel-track. Dangerous waters ahead. "Umm, no, not really. I mean, we never called to let him know we don't know where she is."

"To warn him, you mean. Faith could be dangerous to him. She was really mad when he pretended to go bad and she thought she actually had a shot with him." Buffy wasn't feigning her anxiety in the least. So far she had only skimmed the parts about Faith in her diary, but she knew the other Slayer was very angry, and highly unstable.

"Buffy, you're the one she wants to get even with. I'm sure Angel is fine." Tenderhearted Willow forgot her fear of revealing the truth in the face of Buffy's pain. She hurried across the room to slide a consoling arm around the other girl's shoulders. "She already took her shot at Angel and it was all to get at you really, and I've said too much again!" Willow wailed as she stomped her foot.

Buffy felt a stab of fear at Willow's revelation, but she ruthlessly suppressed it. Whatever had happened to Angel at Faith's hands was in the past, and he had obviously survived. She would get to that truth eventually. Protecting him in the present was the goal right now, and she had to concentrate on that.

"I should call him to…" Buffy reached for the phone on the nightstand as she spoke. She yelped when Willow suddenly knocked it from her hand. "What did you do that for?"

"You shouldn't call him," Willow said anxiously. "Bad, bad idea."

"Then you call him," Buffy replied as she processed Willow's nervous behavior. Okay, note to self. We don't call, or write probably, and it's a major issue for at least one of us. "Or call Giles and have him call Angel. One way or another, I want him warned. But don't tell him about my little memory problem," she hastily added. "I don't want him to worry."

"Done," Willow promised with a sigh of relief. At least there wouldn't be any awkward phone calls to Angel and still more-awkward explanations. They needed to put Buffy back together again without Angel's help, or Buffy would never forgive them once she was herself again. She had made it very clear to one and all that Angel was not to be involved in her life in any fashion.

Buffy tapped her foot on the floor. "I'm waiting, Will." She nodded pointedly at the phone. "Either call Angel or call Giles. Now."

"Gulp." Willow reached for the phone.

Buffy was drawn back to her bookshelf as she heard Willow explaining the situation to Giles. Her fingers itched to pull down the fake book that concealed her diary, but she resisted. She needed privacy to rediscover her past, both to give herself time to absorb the information and to prevent anyone from taking it away from her. Giles had made it clear she would have to remember things for herself, without being helped by anyone else's perception of events.

While she respected his opinion, she apparently had wasted a lot of her short life already. There was no more time to spare.

"Okay, that's the big one for damage control," Buffy murmured. A glance over her shoulder revealed Willow was still absorbed in her phone conversation. She risked pulling open her dresser drawer to gently caress the prom photo she had discovered while searching for her diary. "Now for the reconstruction."

CONTINUE