Disclaimer in prologue.
"Oh, dear."
The quaintly British expression fell from Rupert Giles' lips as he cast a few wary glances at the three pedals at his feet. Chugging along at a steady pace of twenty-five miles an hour, he was sure that making the wrong choice wouldn't hurt too badly. . .
"Dear lord, this is aggravating. . . eeny, meeny, miney. . .moe?"
Buffy watched as Giles' car rolled slowly into the middle of the intersection and got crunched by a car going the other way. The damage wasn't bad, but she had a feeling that Giles might have to look into a new car. The little silver Citroen was just about done. The slayer winced as she saw Giles climb out of the car, a nasty looking cut on his forehead, and proceed to get reamed out by the driver of the other car, who was looking unharmed and pissed off. She jogged over to the two cars, formulating a quick plan.
". . . don't just forget which pedal is the clutch and which is the brake! You've gotta be the dumbest asshole on the face of the-"
"Excuse me, sir," Buffy interrupted the businessman's tirade quickly. "I'm this man's daughter, and I'm so sorry about your car. . . he shouldn't have been driving home from the dentist, not after being gassed like that, but I couldn't get away and he's so stubborn sometimes. . . here, let me give you my home phone number, I'm sure if you explain to my brother, he's the one that's home right now, he'll be more than happy to pay for the damage. . ." On the back of the man's hand she scribbled out a number and a name: Angel.
"I'm just going to find a phone somewhere and call an officer and get my father to sit down, I'll be back in just a second. . ." Buffy took Giles' arm and dragged him off in the direction of the school as the man informed their backs as he produced a cel-phone from his pocket and waved it at them that he would call the police, thank you very much.
"B!" a familiar voice rang out from behind them, but neither Buffy nor Giles registered it. Faith looked confused and hurt for a second before she shrugged and tried again, looking back at the car, her brow furrowed. Giles just wasn't the car accident type.
"Hey, Watcher-man, wait up!" she called out, but they still didn't turn to face her. They weren't far away, maybe twenty feet, and she knew Buffy could hear a cat meowing three counties away if she tried. . .
"Buffy!" she yelled experimentally, then turned halfway towards the wreck and watched the two out of the corner of her eye. Buffy turned around and scanned the scene for a while, shrugged, and kept walking, arm in arm with Giles.
"What the. . ." Faith muttered to herself. She knew for a fact that Buffy had seen her, she felt the other slayer's eyes pass over her, yet she hadn't been recognized.
"Where I go, weirdness follows," she said under her breath, and followed the pair into the school. Meanwhile, Buffy had turned back to Giles and had begun talking quietly with him.
"It's okay, I know that Angel's loaded, maybe it has something to do with the interest he compiled over two hundred years-"
"Um. . . sweetheart? Perhaps we should. . ." Buffy froze mid-step and sentence to look Giles in the eye, an expression of total shock on her face, effectively halting his tentative inquiry.
"Wh-what did you call me?"
"Ah, I called you sweetheart." He answered matter-of-factly, if not a little questioningly. She looked into her watcher's eyes and saw untainted confusion. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she tried desperately to rein in her panic. If Giles were somehow affected by this memory-snatching deal, then they were really sunk. Dead. No hope. The petite blonde opened her eyes again.
"Giles. . . who am I?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice attesting to her fear. He answered without hesitation.
"You're Buffy." Another deep breath.
"And what relation am I to you?" A long moment passed as the two figures standing in the middle of the sidewalk outside of Sunnydale High looked deep into each other's eyes; one willing the other to remember, the latter willing the former to help him somehow. When Giles finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, lacking any conviction.
"Daughter?" Buffy choked back a sob and closed her eyes again. Not meeting his questioning gaze, she hooked her arm through his and led him up the steps to the front doors of the school.
"No. Not daughter. Really not daughter. We need to get to the library, and. . . fast. . ." she trailed off as she scanned the hallways of the high school. They looked familiar, they really did, but somehow she couldn't remember which way the library was.
"Shit," she cursed softly as she began to make her way down one of the corridors. The blonde peeked quickly into each classroom that they passed, hoping that one of the doors would be the library.
"Summers." The voice came from behind the duo, and Buffy's skin crawled just to hear it. Thinking ruefully to herself that she could have at least forgotten Principal Snyder by now, she let out a quiet whimper as she turned herself and Giles to face him and plastered a fake smile on her face.
"Principal Snyder! We were just-"
"Don't 'Principal Snyder' me, and you weren't 'just' anything. You don't fool me. You're 'just' trouble. Where did you think you were going during the middle of fourth hour? And if your answer is anything besides 'right back to Physics' you will be quite the sorry student," he practically hissed at her.
"I was-"
"Detention." The short administrator said the word as if it were the name of his one and only love. . . if such a thing were even possible.
"Excuse me?" Buffy queried.
"De-ten-tion," he sounded out as if he were speaking to a kindergartener. "I don't need your flimsy excuses. Detention. You will be there, seven am sharp, for one week."
"Okay, yes, sir, now I'll just go to Physics and-"
"Mr. Giles, where are you going? Must you accompany Miss Summers here to class? I believe she can find it quite well on her own," he addressed the librarian for the first time, distaste virtually dripping from his words. Giles had been busy looking around and hadn't even really registered Snyder's question.
"What am I doing in the United States?" he asked fuzzily. Snyder threw him an incredulous look.
"Oh, Principal Snyder, Gi- Mr. Giles here fell down the stairs and hit his head on the banister, I was going to take him to the nurse, he's feeling a little, you know. . ." Buffy supplied, glancing furtively at the balding man to see if he bought it.
"Englishmen," he snorted. Buffy heaved an inner sigh of relief, and turned to continue down the hallway.
"Summers?" Snyder called out to her, and she looked back over her shoulder at him. "The nurse's office and the library are the other way." Buffy gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Oh. . . I knew that."
Oz ran down one of the hallways of school, headed for the library. He hadn't found Giles OR Xander anywhere, but with any luck, they might be at the library already, and-
WHAM!
The guitarist found himself suddenly sprawled on the floor, amidst fluttering papers, the wind knocked out of him. As he coughed and choked for breath, wondering dumbly why he wasn't still on his feet, he heard a familiar high-pitched voice whining at him. He winced anew as he placed the voice.
"God! What is wrong with you people? Did hanging around in the library too much dull all your braincells into utter stupidity?"
"Cordelia-"
"No, you know what, I really don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear anything from you except a damn apology - look! My nail polish is chipped! And it's all your fault, surprise, surprise."
"Cordelia, there's something really bad happening-"
"When is there ever not? Just because something terrible is happening to the world, again, doesn't mean you have the right to go running through the halls like wild banshees, crashing into whoever you feel like! Particularly me!"
"Cordelia, STOP!" Shocked into silence by Oz actually raising his voice to anyone, Cordelia Chase quit complaining and just looked at the boy standing in front of her. Three things occurred to her in that moment: Oz was running. Oz was yelling. Oz was. . . scared. Her eyes widened.
"Oh, God, what happened? Did someone die? Did Xan- I mean, did Buffy die?" Oz chose not to respond to Cordelia's almost-slip in that last question, and instead brushed past her to walk quickly down the hallway, not really caring whether or not she followed. A quick glance over his shoulder showed that yes, she was indeed following him, but more slowly, as if to avoid looking like she was following him. Pushing open the doors to the library, he glanced around the room, but saw no one.
"Willow?" he called out, thinking maybe Buffy had taken her into the stacks. . .
"Help! Let me outta here!" came a muffled voice from the office.
"Xander?" Cordelia asked nobody in particular and the two moved to the door. Trying the knob, Oz found it to be locked.
"Shit. I don't have a key," he stated, looking around for a potential lock-picking instrument.
"What are you looking for?" Cordelia asked him condescendingly as he rummaged through stuff on the checkout desk, arms folded across her chest. "Can't he just unlock it from the inside?" Oz looked at her, then at the pen he held in his hand, then back at her. Throwing the writing utensil to the ground, he joined Cordelia's side and yelled through the door.
"Xander? It's me, Oz," he called out.
"Who? Just let me out of here!" Xander cried.
"What's he talking about, 'who'?" the may queen asked worriedly, lines creasing her forehead.
"I don't think Willow or Xander remembers us," Oz explained tersely, then continued yelling. "Xander? You have to unlock the door and let us in."
"Remembers us?" Cordelia echoed hollowly.
"Let me out!" Xander repeated, and Oz sighed.
"Xander. . ." Oz leaned his forehead against the door, which was now shaking rhythmically along with Xander's pounding.
"Dimwit," Cordelia muttered, before gracelessly pushing Oz out of the way and yelling into the crack of the door. "Xander, unlock this door and let me in. We don't have a key."
"Why won't you let me out?" Xander whined plaintively from the opposite side. Rolling her eyes heavenward, Cordelia tried again.
"Xander, just let us in!"
"Let me out!" came the refrain from the office.
"Let us in, doofus!"
"Let me out!"
"Let us in!"
"Let me out!"
"Aaaaargh! That's it, I don't know why I even bother to keep coming back in here. . ." Cordelia trailed off when she saw Oz sitting on the floor, trying not to laugh out loud. "WHAT is so damn funny?"
"It's like Clue. . ." he trailed off, laughing nervously. Cordelia stomped her foot and threw her arms down at her sides.
"Are you telling me to get a clue? Because I don't need your stupid 'you don't belong here' crap, if you want help. . ."
"No, Clue. You know, the movie," he looked at her expectantly. She arched one eyebrow in question and shook her head helplessly. 'The movie, Clue. 'Let us in, Let me out,'. . . oh, never mind." Oz got to his feet and started to examine the keyhole again.
"Look, I don't know what your deal is, and I don't care, but I don't think I want to be here anymore-"
"You can't just leave!" Oz exclaimed with surprise.
"Oh, yes I can. Why do you people always think you can tell me what to do and I'll just do it? You're the freaks here, not me. I don't have any obligation to help any of you." She informed him irritably.
"Well, freaks we may be, but-"
"Yeah, but you save this pathetic town of ours on a bi-weekly basis from untimely destruction. You'd probably be doing the world a favor if you all just let it go to hell where it so desperately wants to be and just jumped in after it-"
"Let me out!" Xander cried once again from the office. This time, Oz and Cordelia both turned to the door and yelled in unison.
"Shut up!"