Disclaimer: The characters we all know and love from BtVS belong to the Great God Joss. I'm just playing in his back yard for a bit. Also, you'll probably recognize the stuff from various episodes in the flashback scenes. (muchos gracias to AleXander for his wonderful work on the Transcripts available on the Slayerfanfic Archive)
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Part One
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Summers residence- 3 am
Buffy was half-way down the hall to her mother's room before she woke completely. She pushed open the door and hurried inside, hoping she wouldn't find what she knew she would. Her mother crouched in the corner, a trail of blankets leading back to the bed.
[This is the fifth night in a row,] Buffy thought, worried.
"Get it off me! Get it off me!" Joyce cried, still in the grip of her nightmare.
Buffy rushed to her mother's side, reaching out to stop the hands that were scratching frantically at the top of Joyce's spine. Buffy grabbed her mother's hands and stared into her wide, terror-filled eyes.
"Mom!" Buffy called, "Mom! Wake up! You're having a nightmare. Mom, wake up. You're safe. It's just a dream. I'm here, Mom. I'm here."
Some of the terror and hysteria retreated from Joyce's expression. Buffy hugged her tightly, rocking her gently and continued whispering soothing platitudes in an ironic role reversal. Buffy could feel the tension slowly leaving her mother's body under her ministrations. She continued slowly rubbing small circles on her mother's back, easing the tense muscles, and took a quick glance at the spot her mother had been scratching earlier. Buffy was hard pressed to subdue the startled gasp that threatened when she caught sight of the damage revealed by the moonlight shining in through the window. The normally pale smooth skin along Joyce's spine, between her shoulder blades, was an angry red, scraped raw and leaking blood in places.
Buffy schooled the shock and worry from her expression with difficulty. The raw area was in the precise location one of those parasites had latched on to Joyce during that incident last week at the school. Her Mom couldn't be remembering what really happened that night, could she?
[Note to self,] Buffy thought, [Pin down Giles first thing in the morning to talk about this. That 'gas leak' cover story he thought of might have worked in the heat of the moment, but if the people affected are starting to remember details, even if it's only in nightmares, we might have to rethink this whole thing again.]
"Are you okay, Mom?" Buffy asked as Joyce's breathing and heart rate finally settled back to something approaching normal, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I'm fine, honey," Joyce replied, "It was just a bad dream. I don't even remember what it was about now. I'm sorry I woke you."
"It's okay, Mom. Don't worry about it," Buffy said, "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? I could make us some tea."
"I'm fine, Buffy. Really," Joyce insisted, "I can't remember what it was about. Just feeling afraid. Helpless. It was just a dream. It's over."
Joyce shivered at the vague memories and impressions. She scrubbed her hands over her face, then rubbed one hand over the back over her neck to smooth away the last vestiges of nightmare induced tension. She winced slightly as her fingers brushed the raw area over her spine, now suddenly aware of a dull throbbing there. She jerked her hand away from the sore spot and stared at the smear of blood across her fingers.
"What....?" Joyce murmured.
"You were scratching yourself in your sleep," Buffy ventured, "I think you broke the skin a couple of times. Come on, Mom. I'll help you clean that up."
Joyce numbly stood and followed her daughter into the bathroom. She kept staring at the blood on her fingers. What could she have been dreaming about that would make her scratch herself hard enough to draw blood? Joyce could not remember any details of the nightmare, only a few vague impressions; a feeling of helplessness, of not being in control of her own body. She shivered again and quickly banished that line of thought.
Joyce leaned over the sink, consciously avoiding looking in the mirror, as Buffy opened the medicine cabinet to retrieve the few first aid supplies kept there. She grimaced a few times as Buffy first gently washed the sore area with warm water, then wiped it down with rubbing alcohol.
"How bad is it?" Joyce asked. A person's back was an awkward place to injure oneself, difficult to see and reach in order to treat effectively.
"It's not that bad, Mom," Buffy lied. She could count over a dozen individual nail tracks crisscrossing the hand-sized raw blemish.
"You just gave yourself a couple of good scrapes," Buffy elaborated, "Maybe you should think about getting your nails done soon?"
Joyce raised her head to look in the mirror at the image of her daughter peering over her shoulder. She managed a wan smile at Buffy's attempt to lighten the mood. Joyce sucked in a deep breath through pursed lips at the stinging sensation as Buffy sprayed Polysporin over the scratches.
"After all," Buffy continued, grinning impishly, "We wouldn't want you to end up doing some serious damage to some guy's back the next time you date someone."
"*Buffy*!!" Joyce practically screeched, shocked at the suggestion. Or rather, its source.
Buffy's reflection suddenly went beet red as she locked eyes with her mother.
"I can't believe I just said that," Buffy breathed.
Mother and daughter stared at each other in the mirror for several minutes, the silence growing increasingly uncomfortable. Finally, Joyce started chuckling softly.
"I don't think we have to worry along those lines for a while," she said softly, a wry smile twisting her lips, "After what happened with Ted last month, I don't think I'm going to be doing much....um....trolling? Is that the word I'm looking for?"
"*Mom*!" Buffy squealed, her fading blush reasserting itself. Vividly.
Buffy's mouth dropped open when her mother suddenly laughed out loud. The mischievous twinkle in Joyce's eyes caused Buffy's mind to conjure images of her mother decked out in something tight and sexy, a drink in hand, and surrounded by admirers. *Too* weird.
Joyce stood up straight, putting her arm around her daughter's shoulders, and grinned into the mirror.
"Who knows," she quipped, "Maybe one of these years we two could go on a mother/daughter hunting expedition together?"
Buffy broke up, gales of laughter erupting.
"You are so evil, Mom," she gasped between laughs, "Suggesting we subject an unsuspecting world to such an irresistibly deadly duo as ourselves."
Several minutes later, the two women finally managed to control their guffaws. Turning off the bathroom light, Joyce turned to her daughter.
"Thank you for cheering me up after that nightmare, Buffy," she said softly, "Now, I think we both should try to get back to sleep."
"Okay, Mom," Buffy agreed, "If you're sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"I'm sure," Joyce confirmed, "Good night, honey."
"Mom?" Buffy asked, "Will this little rapprochement contribute to lifting my house arrest?"
"Buffy," Joyce said, "I'll sleep on it. We'll talk about over breakfast, okay?"
"Good night, Mom," Buffy replied, "A joint hunting expedition, hunh?"
"Who knows," Joyce returned, shrugging, before disappearing into her bedroom.
Buffy climbed back into bed, playing over the exchange in the bathroom in her mind. As she lay back against the pillows, Buffy realized that her own comments stemmed from the acceptance (finally, after over a year) that her mother and father were not going to be getting back together. And that Buffy herself hoped that her mother would eventually find someone else to share the rest of her life with. Someone to make her happy.
* * *
Sunnydale High Library- Lunchtime
Buffy sat at the library's center table, idly playing with a pencil instead of actually working on the trig homework she'd been assigned in class that morning. Willow sat in her customary position in front of what was considered "her" computer (no one else ever used it, especially not Giles or the other Slayerettes), researching a biology project for extra credit. Xander was nowhere to be found; he'd pulled another one of his disappearing acts that had gotten more frequent over the past month.
Buffy was uncharacteristically reluctant to broach the subject of her mother's nightmares to Giles. Last night's determination had faded with the brightening of the morning. Her mother still claimed she didn't remember any details of the nightmares when Buffy had asked over breakfast. So she was left with something of a dilemma. She didn't *know* what her mother's nightmares had involved, and Joyce's offhand reference to Ted last night had caught Buffy off guard. Now she was wondering if the nightmares could possibly be about Ted and not that night last week with the Bazoar and its hatchlings. It had been bothering her all morning.
[No, it has to be,] she thought, [The way she was scratching at her neck is too big a coincidence.]
"Giles?" she asked, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Yes?" Giles replied, coming out of his office.
Willow looked up from the computer, took one look at the worried expression on her friend's face and closed down her project.
"Something wrong, Buffy?" Giles asked as he approached the table.
"I'm not sure," Buffy answered, "I know Xander and I explained all that happened with that Bazoar thing, but do either of you actually remember anything yourselves? Have you had any nightmares?"
Willow remained silent, looking uncomfortable.
"No," Giles said, "I don't remember any details. Nor have I experienced any nocturnal episodes regarding the incident. Are you having trouble, Buffy?"
"Not me," Buffy responded, "I can deal with nightmares, I have enough of them. It's my Mom. I think she's been dreaming about that night. She's woken up screaming every night for almost a week. She says she doesn't remember what the dreams are about, but last night...."
Buffy's died away, her expression morose, her gaze dropping to her lap. Giles sat down next to her, concerned.
"She remembered something?" he prodded gently after the silence had dragged on for nearly a minute.
"No, but...," Buffy raised a very worried face, her eyes brimming, "She was scratching.... um, actually, she was *clawing* at the top of her spine. Where that hatchling had latched on to her. You should have seen it, Giles. She must have broken the skin a dozen times. There was an area as big as both my hands just....just....*raw*. All red and bleeding. It scared me, Giles."
"I...," Willow chopped herself off.
Giles looked away from Buffy. He was startled, and worried, by the tension in Willow's shoulders and the pallor of her face.
"I had a nightmare that night," Willow confessed, "But I haven't had one since."
"Willow," Giles asked gently, "What do you remember?"
"Not much, really," Willow's voice was barely above a whisper, "Just a few bits and pieces. Locking Buffy and Xander in a closet, going down to the basement, digging. And....and....did I really tell someone to kill you, Buffy?"
"That wasn't you," Buffy hastened to reassure her best friend, "It was that thing controlling you. But, if you do remember bits, I wonder how many others do? And what about the gas leak cover story? Will it hold up?"
"I think we should make some discrete inquiries to discover if anyone does remember anything," Giles suggested, "Why don't you two find Xander, and possibly Cordelia, and ask around. I'll consult my books to see if I can find anything relating to the incident. We'll meet here again after school ends?"
"Yeah," Buffy agreed, "I have to be here anyway. I'm still grounded and Mom wants me to stay here, doing my homework until she comes to pick me up on her way home from the Gallery."
Buffy and Willow headed out of the library to search for Xander, while Giles headed up into the stacks. He turned at the top of the stairs to watch the two girls leave the library, doubtful that he would find any positive information about this development. The information available on the Bazoar was limited.
* * *
The rest of the school was fast becoming deserted since the final bell rang twenty minutes ago, but the library was nearly as crowded as it ever got. Buffy and Willow sat on one side of the center table wearing matching expressions of concern and unease. Xander and Cordelia sat on the other side, for once not exchanging charged insults with each other.
Giles paced relentlessly around the table, absently chewing on one earpiece of his glasses.
"So," he summarized, "It appears that certain people involved last week have had nightmares about it."
"Yeah," Willow confirmed, "Megan, Sharon and Debbie all admitted they had a few. But not in the past few days."
"And Jennifer and Diane might have," Buffy added, "But all they would cop to was 'having trouble sleeping'. I'm willing to bet it's because of nightmares even if they won't admit it."
"This is *so* typical," Cordelia huffed, "Your weird world rears its ugly head again and *other* girls are having nightmares, while you go on as always."
"Give it a rest, Cordy," Xander practically snarled, "I'm surprised you have any concern at all. It's not like you have any maternal instincts to appease."
"Wait a moment," Giles said, cutting off Cordelia's undoubtably indignant response, "Everyone who's had nightmares is female?"
Buffy and Willow sat up straighter in their chairs, exchanging a glance. They hadn't noticed that earlier.
"You're right, Giles," Buffy remarked, "They've all been girls. There has to be some reason for it."
"Definitely a possibility," Giles confirmed, "And Xander's admittedly snide remark about maternal instincts may offer a clue as to why your mother seems to have been affected so badly. She was the only woman of the adults co-opted."
"But why would only girls be remembering anything?" Willow asked.
"The information available on the Bazoar is limited, but states definitively that the hatchlings take over a host by neural clamping. It's possible that the neuro-physiological differences between the sexes may account for the discrepancy," Giles hypothesized.
"Neuro-what?" Xander asked.
The ringing of the library's phone interrupted any further explanations. Giles crossed over to the checkout desk to answer it.
"Library. Rupert Giles speaking......Hello, Mrs Summers.....Yes, she's here. One moment."
Giles wordlessly held the receiver out for Buffy, who was already halfway to him after hearing the it was her mother.
"What's up, Mom?" Buffy said into the phone.
"Buffy," her mother's voice replied, "Something's come up. The Gallery's just received a shipment a few days early. It looks like I'm going to be stuck here late tonight."
"How late?"
"I'll probably be here 'til eight, at least," Joyce explained, "So I want you to go straight home. Are you okay with getting your own dinner?"
"Sure, Mom," Buffy confirmed, "I'm sure I can find something in the fridge to munch on. But, can Willow come over? We've got a major trig test coming up in a few days and I could use some study help."
"All right," Joyce allowed, "As long as you two actually *do* some studying. Don't spend all your time discussing things I probably don't want to hear about."
"I promise, Mom," Buffy vowed, "Boys, clothes, and gossip will not overwhelm the fascinating world of incomprehensible mathematics. Much."
"I'll be checking when I get home that you at least have your homework finished," Joyce threatened.
"All right. All right," Buffy laughed, "We'll do our homework first. Boy, sometimes you can be a real slavedriver. You know that?"
"Sometimes I feel like I *need* a whip and a chair with you," Joyce sighed, "Now remember, straight home, and you're not to leave the house once you get there."
"I know, I know," Buffy said, "I'm still grounded. And I can deal. I'll see you tonight, Mom. Bye."
"Bye, sweetheart," Joyce added.
Buffy hung up the phone and turned back to the interrupted discussion, changing gears rapidly.
"So, Giles," she began, "You were saying? Why is the whole deal with the Bazoar still affecting my Mom?"
Giles blinked; surprised once again with the speed at which Buffy switched between the teenager and the Slayer.
"And in English this time, G-man," Xander interjected.
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Well, there is medical evidence that the physical structure of the brain differs between males and females. Perhaps those differences are responsible for some of the girls, and your mother, being able to remember portions of that night. I am encouraged by your reports that the other girls' nightmares have stopped. Hopefully, your mother's will, too."
"But why is she still having them if they stopped with the others?" Buffy asked.
"That's where those 'maternal instincts' that Xander mentioned so disparagingly may play a part," Giles explained, "Your mother was the only one affected who was...well, a mother. I suspect that the nightmares may be more severe for her because she has a child of her own she cares for very much. She did, after all, hit Spike over the head with an axe to protect you. From that incident alone, I'd say her maternal instincts are very highly developed."
"Then I guess you don't remember her nearly bashing my head in with a pick down in the basement that night," Buffy retorted hotly, "That thing had total control of her."
"That may be why your mother is having a harder time dealing with the incident," Giles explained, "The Bazoar was probably able to gain a deeper control of her since she has a child of her own. It would have been able to harness her protective instincts, we've already seen that she is willing to put herself to great risk for you, Buffy, and pervert them to protecting its own offspring."
"And this means?" Buffy pressed.
"It just may take a little longer for her to recover from the incident than the other girls," Giles offered.
"But why do only some of the girls remember?" Cordelia interjected, "I don't remember anything."
"I'm afraid I don't have any explanation," Giles said quietly, "I'm not up on the current biological theories of the differences between the sexes and the brain."
"Estrogen levels," Willow spoke up suddenly.
The others stared at her. Willow blushed slightly, but reached out and turned her computer on. She called up the project she'd been working on at lunch and quickly paged through her research notes. Finally finding what she was looking for, she gestured for the others to look.
"There are studies being done to find out just what kinds of differences there are," she began, "There have been indications that guys do better at some specific spatial tasks, but girls seem to do better at some language and memory things. But the part that might explain the nightmare thing is a couple of studies that show that different hormone levels seem to have an effect, too. The same test subjects got different scores on the same kind of test at different times during their cycles, scoring better during the low estrogen level part."
"In English, please, Will," Xander begged, "You know I nearly flunked bio last year."
"I hadn't considered that angle," Giles mused, "So there is evidence that the different hormone levels at various stages of the menstrual cycle can have an effect on memory?"
"Menstru....." Xander muttered, "Ick, I don't think I want to understand this part."
"Well, the studies are fairly new," Willow explained, "And they aren't certain how significant the connection is, but there does seem to be one."
"So? What?" Cordelia asked, "All the girls who can remember anything are only doing it as a side effect of PMS?"
"In a manner of speaking," Giles said, "While these studies Willow refers to note only a tenuous connection, the mystical influence of the Hellmouth may be amplifying that connection in this case. That would also explain why only a few of you do remember anything, the difference in timing, as it were."
"Okay," Buffy added, "Let me get this straight, some of the girls remember bits because they happened to have the right levels of whatever hormone on that night. And my Mom just happens to have been one of the lucky few, right?"
"I believe that may be the case," Giles confirmed, "Fortunately, the nightmares seemed to have faded away for the other girls. Hopefully, your mother's will also."
"But what if she keeps having them, Giles?" Buffy insisted, "What if they get worse? What if she *does* start to remember?"
"I'm not sure," Giles hesitated, glancing at Willow.
"What?" Willow asked, "Why are you looking at me?"
"You say you had only the one nightmare?" Giles questioned.
"Well, yeah," Willow replied, "But I don't see the connection."
"If you haven't had any since Buffy and Xander explained things, then perhaps...." Giles trailed off.
"We might have to tell my Mom the truth in order to stop hers," Buffy finished for him, "That could be a dicey thing, Giles. She might not believe us. And even if she does, how do we explain how we found out about it?"
"This is not good," Willow muttered.
"I'm sure we'll be able to think of something," Giles offered, "It might not come to that. You did say that the other girls' nightmares have stopped. There's no reason not to assume you mother's won't, as well."
"I guess," Buffy conceded, "But I'm still not happy with this whole sitch. C'mon Will, let's get going to my house. We'll stop at the store on the way. If I'm going to have to attempt to wrap my brain around trig, I'm going to need some quality munchies to fuel the effort."
"Food?" Xander chimed in.
"Down, boy," Buffy chuckled, "The Walking Stomach isn't invited to this one, sorry."
"So I have to fend for myself. Again," Xander griped, "You know I hate math. How am I supposed to deal without The Great Brain to help? And Mother Hubbard has a feast compared to the my kitchen's prospects."
"I can come by later, Xander," Willow offered, gathering her knapsack and joining Buffy at the door, "Okay?"
"Great, Will," Xander smiled.
After Willow and Buffy had left, Cordelia leaned over and whispered to Xander.
"So, no one's home at your place?"
Xander nodded to her, not quite following her train of thought.
"You must have a couch that's more comfortable than the utility closet," she added, sotto voce.
The light clicked in Xander's mind. He smiled broadly.
"Let's go," he said, standing.
Giles was dragged out of his introspection of nightmares by the library door closing behind the departing teens. With a small shrug, he turned toward his office. There was a cup of tea calling his name.
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