Title: Bound by Darkness

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Six months after Buffy's death, and some people are having trouble with coping. As they try to move on with their lives, Sirius is plagued with dreams that he believes to be a message from the fallen Slayer. But is she really fallen? Or just…misplaced?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Buffy goes to Whedon, and Harry and everybody in the Potter-verse go to Rowling. If you don't recognize anyone, they're probably mine. I do own the plot, though. Don't sue. Please.

A/N: This is set about six months after Buffy's funeral. This is a sequel to Bound by Loyalty. I suggest you read that before you continue with this story, as it could get rather confusing. Let me know what you think!

"My tears run down like razor blades,

And no, I'm not the one to blame, it's you,

Or is it me?

And all the words we never say come out,

And now we're all ashamed and there's no sense in playing games,

When you've done all you can do."

-Secondhand Serenade

Chapter One: Fall For You

The rain still drizzled in a steady downpour from the near black skies. It had been a continuous torrential of water for more than a week. Sirius hadn't seen any hint of the sky in all that time.

It was fine with him. He was more than content to sit by his window and watch. The turmoil outside had nothing on what he felt inside his own mind.

Six months, three days and 16 hours.

It felt like a lifetime. Probably because he had barely slept during those six months.

Six months, three days and 17 hours.

It was still raining.

Six months, three days and 18 hours.

There was no end to it. It was almost as if God himself was pouring his sorrow and anger onto the world, trying to drown out the dirt and debris.

Six months, three days and 19 hours.

Sirius felt the first pay of hunger, but he ignored it and decided that food could wait. He had his own misery to deal with.

Six months, three days and 20 hours.

Harry was there again. He could feel his Godson watch him with concern.

"Sirius, please. Eat something. Get up," Harry pleaded, to no avail.

It was the same as always. His Godson begging him to go out, go eat, take a shower, do something, anything to show that he was still left with some life in him.

The problem with that, though, was that he really didn't think he had much life left in him. But for Harry's sake, he was going to at least pretend. So he got up and went downstairs with him, slightly dizzy from lack of proper nutrition and sleep.

Six months, three days and 22 hours.

With a stomach full of food, Sirius returned to his seat by the window two hours later. Not much had changed. The rain had let off a little, but it was still coming down at a steady pace. The sky was a little less gray.

His heart was still full of despair.

Six months, three days and 23 hours.

The rain had almost stopped. The world was drenched, but the rain was almost at an end. Sirius did not want it to end. He felt as if he was able to connect with the world more when it was raining, because rain inspired a feeling of sadness. And these days, he was so full of sadness.

Six months, four days.

Six months, four days since he had lost her.

And everyday felt like it lasted forever.

Harry could admit that he was worried about Sirius. How could he not be? He could practically see Sirius wasting away, if not in body then in mind. While he barely ate, he still had fits of violence that he had to exercise by hitting a punching bag. Repeatedly. Harry could tell he barely slept. There were rings of exhaustion around his eyes, his skin has an unnatural paleness to it.

He tried, God knew he did. He went to see him everyday, tried to rouse him out of his usual stupor. It didn't help that his house had never really been redecorated, so the walls were void of any semblance of life. Harry felt depressed just be being in the house for longer than ten minutes.

It was the middle of June, and while the weather had not been to sunny lately, he could tell the rain was letting off, leading to the start of a beautiful summer. He needed to get Sirius out, needed to give him some fresh air. He needed to stop him from going to her grave everyday. It was slowly killing him inside.

Harry hadn't mentioned her name in a long time. Whenever someone dared to speak it, it set Sirius off in a rage. So they had all stopped saying it.

He stepped through the fireplace into the living room at Sirius' house. Coughing once, he looked around and frowned at the lack of color, at the lack of anything interesting. This was Sirius. He had had such great plans for this place. Harry was supposed to be living here now, this was supposed to be their place.

But he hadn't been able to take it after the first month. He knew Sirius needed him, and he did the best he could, but he couldn't stay in this place everyday and feel as if he were intruding on Sirius' personal time. His Godfather had agreed, and he had promised that he would get his act together after a few months of mourning, and everything would be better.

But it had been six months, and nothing was better.

And Harry had to do something about it. He marched up to Sirius' bedroom, not even bothering to knock, and opened the door. He was right where Harry had expected him to be; in bed with the curtains drawn. Rolling his eyes, Harry jerked the curtain open, and the sun spilled into the room, illuminating the dust and disarray.

Harry was dismayed to see the state of his room. Clothes were littering the floor, and he could smell the faint odor of unclean and sweat. He was guessing that Sirius hadn't taken a shower in quite some time.

"Get up," he said commandingly.

Sirius just stared at him before drawing his blanket up over his head.

Sighing, Harry reached over, grabbed the blanket, and yanked it off Sirius. "Get up Sirius," he repeated, and he was rewarded with a blank stare. "Please, just get up. I understand that you don't feel like getting up, but you need to. You need to go outside, get some air. You need to shower, for God's sake!"

Sirius didn't react.

"You need to stop moping around in self-pity, Sirius. She's gone. She's gone and she's not coming back."

His Godfather sat up and leveled angry eyes on him, but Harry didn't back down. "You've been sitting in here for sis months, and enough is enough. Buffy is dead, and you need to-" Harry was cut off by Sirius springing out of bed to stand in front of him.

"Don't. Say. Her. Name," Sirius said between clenched teeth.

"Why not Sirius? Huh? Because it hurts you to hear it? Well it hurts me too."

Sirius laughed mirthlessly. "I'm sure it does Harry. You seem very saddened to me."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. What? "You think that because I'm not sitting in my room, being depressed and melancholy, I don't care? What the bloody hell is the matter with you?"

"Harry, just leave me alone," Sirius said, sighing in defeat and turning back to his bed. Harry grabbed his arm to prevent him from leaving.

"No, Sirius. No. I'm done with leaving you alone. I loved her too! Did you ever stop to think about how I might feel about this. She died for me. For me, Sirius. She died saving me. I had dreams, every night, about her dying in front of me, and there was nothing I could do. There's nothing I can do." He felt the tears coming, felt them burning at his eyes. "We all loved her, Sirius. I did, the Weasley's did, even Snape did for God's sake. We all mourned her, cried for her. But enough is enough."

Sirius hung his head, his hands covering his face. When he looked up again, Harry had stepped away and was watching out the window. "Harry," he began, but he didn't know what to say.

"We miss her. We all do. We still cry sometimes. But you're letting it take over your life. Is this what she would have wanted?" Harry asked, sweeping the room with his arm. Sirius shook his head, a silent denial. "No. She would have told you stop moping, to thank God you were still alive, and to take a shower," he told him, hoping to inspire a smile.

He was rewarded with a slight turning of lips. It was better than nothing, and more honest than any he had seen from his Godfather in a long while. Harry stepped forward and embraced Sirius.

"I think about her every night," Sirius said, drawing back. "I dream, and sometimes they are good dreams. I don't want to face it Harry. I don't want to go out and see the world moving on, and she's not here to live in it. I'm afraid I'm going to forget her." He paused, looking down hopelessly. Harry didn't said anything, wanting Sirius to keep talking, no matter how painful it was to say or hear.

"I loved her with everything inside of me. I didn't realize until that night. She had everything of me, and I was unable to tell her. I wanted so bad to tell her that she completed my soul. And now she's gone. Harry, I don't know what to do. I don't know how I can keep myself from joining her."

"God, Sirius. Don't talk like that. Don't you realize that there are still people here who need you? I need you Sirius! Remember, it was going to be me and you. We were going to change up this house. Become a family. I need a family Sirius. I can't lose you. Not like I lost my parents. Not like I lost Buffy. I need you." Harry was breathing heavily, fear in his heart. "Please, Sirius, let it go. Come outside with me. Decorate the house with me."

Sirius stared at him for a moment, feeling a weight on him greater than before. He knew Harry was right, he felt it inside, but it hurt too much to think about going on without her. Like he was betraying her. But he knew that Buffy wouldn't have wanted him to be sad like this, to give up everything and give in.

She had been strong, stronger than he had realized. And he wanted to be strong for her.

Later on that day, he visited her grave. Instead of sitting there like he normally did, he began to talk to her. And slowly, he began to feel more peace than he had felt in a very long time catch up to him.

The next day, he didn't visit her grave at all, and the Weasley's were all very happy to welcome him into their home.

A/N: Well, what do you think?

Worth continuing or should I just stop now?