Author's Note: This chapter's much with the explanations, so many questions should be answered, but let me know if anything is still confusing. Many thanks to Aongealach for the beta!

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Chapter Two – Albus Exposits

The moment Angel agreed to leave, Albus had hustled him into preparations, and they had left via portkey less than half an hour later. He had no idea how the man convinced Cordelia to leave without any further explanations (he suspected magic was involved), but he wished he could learn the trick.

Hogwarts, unsurprisingly, looked much the same as it had over fifty years ago. As it was summer, the children were gone, as were most professors, but Angel found himself drawn into conversation with the Bloody Baron, who was less than pleased to see the vampire again.

"So, again, I'm truly sorry about killing you, but like I explained when I was here in 1945, I'm different now… Where's the hospital wing?"

By the time he convinced the Bloody Baron to let him go, Albus was long gone. It didn't take long for Angel to find the infirmary, thanks to a helpful portrait (and no thanks to that damn ghost, who sent him in the wrong direction). So little time had passed between Albus's arrival and their return that Angel expected to find Xander still unconscious. He was therefore surprised to enter and find the man sitting up, and even more surprised to receive a happy greeting.

"Angel," Xander breathed, his good eye sparkling. He awkwardly climbed out of bed. By the shakiness of his movements, Angel knew he wouldn't stay upright very long, and was already moving to catch him when Xander collapsed.

Vampiric speed made it easy to reach him in time, and Angel easily hefted the man into his arms. He was about to lay him down when Xander started speaking, reaching out to brush Angel's face with a gentle touch. When he passed out again, Angel dumbly sat on the nearest bed, forgetting to put down his burden. He looked at Albus and caught a speculative glimmer in the wizard's expression before it was carefully blanked. "Did Xander hit his head? He seems… confused."

Albus shook his head. "He was ambushed by a group of wizards, although he caused most of the damage himself." His voice grew somber as he moved closer and smoothed Xander's hair against his forehead. "We had been watching him, but I did not anticipate an attack so soon." He sighed, sad blue eyes meeting Angel's. "I did not think they had yet resolved to seize him. It was a miscalculation that nearly cost him his life."

Without realizing it, Angel clutched Xander closer, pulling him away from Albus's touch. "You knew he was in danger." His voice was cold and unyielding. "You knew and you didn't tell me? You didn't tell him? He doesn't know of this world. He wouldn't know how to protect himself against you!"

Xander cringed away at the anger in Angel's voice; automatically, Angel stroked his hair and murmured soothingly until he relaxed into a deeper sleep. He glared at Albus. "This isn't Grindelwald, Dumbledore," he whispered. "You don't get to play with Xander. You don't use him as bait. You're going to tell me what is going on and why wizards are after him, and you'll do it—"

"Angel," Xander murmured, moving restlessly. He whimpered, burrowing into Angel's chest. "Angel, help."

Suddenly speechless, Angel stared down at Xander. He hadn't really believed Albus when he said the boy called out for him while sleeping, and hearing Xander—insufferably stubborn, independent, courageous Xander, who never asked anyone for anything—beg Angel to help him made Angel's un-beating heart ache with the need to protect him. Angel leaned back against the wall, settling Xander beside him, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Xander automatically curled closer, burying his face in Angel's neck and fisting a handful of his shirt. It wasn't until his entire body suddenly slackened, falling limply into him, that Angel realized how tense Xander had become.

"He needs you here," Albus said softly, and Angel started, having forgotten the wizard was still present.

"I wasn't planning on leaving him here alone," he snapped. "Certainly not without a fucking explanation!"

Albus gave him a mildly reproving look, which Angel blithely ignored, and nodded. "In the 1970s, Voldemort was rising for the first time." Seeing the blistering retort forming on Angel's lips, the wizard raised a quelling hand. "Bear with me, Angel. Truly, I am not attempting to be circumlocutory; this is necessary." At Angel's reluctant nod, he continued, his voice soft and calm so as not to disturb the sleeping topic of conversation.

"By 1970, Voldemort had gathered his first followers, whom he would call Death Eaters. Among them was a young woman named Bellatrix Lestrange, with her husband and brother-in-law. Several years later, a young man named Lucius Malfoy joined as well; the same year, he married one of Bellatrix's sisters, Narcissa.

"The years grew progressively darker. People began to disappear; muggleborns, and wizards known for supporting them, were inexplicably murdered. Fear began to overtake the wizarding world; no one would speak the name Voldemort, of whom no one had ever heard mere years before."

Albus looked gravely at his audience. "In 1976, as fear began to turn into terror and we slipped ever closer to open war, Lucius Malfoy had an affair with his wife's sister, Bellatrix, and she found herself carrying a child."

After several rapid calculations, Angel paled, looking with dismay at the man in his arms. Albus nodded. "Bellatrix told her husband the babe would be his, though she knew it wasn't so. Lucius forbade her to kill the child; he and his wife had been trying to conceive for years, and he was a proud man. Should Narcissa prove barren, an illegitimate heir would be better than none at all.

"But Bellatrix, bitter that Lucius still preferred Narcissa over her, refused to raise the child as her own. Using the darkest of magic, she bound her son's power the moment he was born, and hid him in the most dangerous place she could find—the mouth of Hell itself. It was her hope, I suspect, that one of the creatures dwelling in Sunnydale would accomplish what she could not.

"An unsavory couple was bribed into taking the child, and Bellatrix told her husband that their son had been stillborn. For years, no one save mother and father knew of young Alexander's existence, and even they believed he was likely deceased. Lucius had a son with Narcissa, and it became to his advantage to forget about the other boy with a claim to his fortune.

"And Alexander grew without any knowledge of his true heritage, showing no signs of magical talent—at least, not until he reached puberty, when demons, sensing the taint of the Dark magic binding his power, found him an attractive victim. It is likely he would have become aware of the town's true nature even if he had not befriended the Slayer, to a far more unfortunate end." Both men winced at the thought.

"He might have continued this way all his life, but for an exceptional set of circumstances: his young friend, Willow Rosenberg, became an exceptionally strong Wicca, was improperly trained, and lost control.

"Are you aware of the events of the night Miss Rosenberg's lover died?"

Angel shrugged. "Only vaguely."

Albus pursed his lips. "The group was all but defeated. The Slayer was incapacitated, and young Rupert's efforts to return Willow's humanity with a shock of white magic appeared to accomplish nothing beyond boosting her power even further. Willow was prepared to destroy the world when Alexander faced her."

Smiling faintly, Albus added, "He stopped her, of course, with the pure strength of his love. I have seen few with such capacity for caring. But in so doing, he withstood several blasts of pure magic, the strength of which should have killed him, would have done so had it not focused itself on another task."

"It destroyed the binding," Angel murmured, staring at Xander in contemplation. "And he would have attributed any feeling of mystical unbalance to the attack itself."

Albus nodded. "Even then, the binding was not wholly severed. Dark magic is terribly strong. Beyond the occasional odd occurrence in his presence, he still may have lived untroubled, had he not been in such close proximity to another spell of great magnitude." At Angel's blank look, Albus reminded him. "The boy was present when all Potential Slayers were awakened simultaneously, and your grandchilde sacrificed himself. That day was the final impetus needed to release his power in its entirety."

Angel shook his head. "I still don't understand how he was found by your people, or why he's being hunted."

With a raised eyebrow, Albus chided, "Perhaps that is because I am not finished. Although it appears that he did not speak of it, I am certain Alexander began feeling consequences almost immediately following Sunnydale's collapse. While we were guarding him, it became obvious that he was making a Herculean effort to control his emotions, that he was almost terrified of losing control. Likely he was, having realized his strong emotions led to strange occurrences."

"But how—"

"Patience," Albus cautioned. "Let me continue. As you know, Voldemort was finally, permanently defeated two years ago. We had a year of peace before stirrings of unrest began creeping through our world. It was at this time that my Divination professor made a prophecy." Albus shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot yet disclose its contents." Angel frowned, but conceded.

"Finally, we learned what was happening. Former Death Eaters were allying behind a new leader, and we soon learned that leader was Lucius Malfoy."

"Fuck," Angel muttered.

"As you say." There was a hint of grim humor in Albus's eyes. "We learned of this through Lucius's other son, Draco, who served as a spy in the final months of the war. It was Draco who came to me with the news that Lucius was considering a search for his lost child, with plans to sacrifice the boy in a Dark ritual for increased power.

"Several months passed before we located Alexander, as Lucius had not let slip his location. Ultimately, we had to resort to using Draco for a blood spell." Albus's lips twitched wryly. "We set up a schedule of surveillance, which was greatly complicated by the fact that Alexander was frequently surrounded by young Slayers capable of sensing our presence. A colleague was nearly staked."

Angel stared; Albus shrugged. "He does rather resemble a vampire.

"At any rate, I did not wish to approach the boy until it became necessary. We watched and waited, with Draco and others keeping open ears for signs that a plan had been finalized." Looking away, Albus murmured, "They came too late. Lucius had become suspicious, and informed no one of the attack until they were to leave. Xander was ambushed walking home from work; terrified, and in mortal peril, it appears that he lost control of his magic."

Albus met Angel's eyes, his expression grave. "Draco, who had been placed in charge of the attack, was spared. I believe something in Xander subconsciously recognized him as family. As for the others, well." He cleared his throat. "Upon my arrival on the scene, I could identify… pieces."

Angel's already pale complexion went bone-white; with his memories of Angelus's extensive torture experiences, he could easily imagine the scene. And he knew Xander would be horrified to learn he had caused that sort of carnage. He closed his eyes. "Does he know?" he whispered wearily.

Albus shook his head. "It is unlikely he will remember much of the attack. That level of magical output is exceptionally trying, especially for one entirely unused to magic." He spared a fondly concerned glance for the young wizard in Angel's arms. "Most of his physical injuries have been healed; the extreme magical exhaustion is his largest current dilemma, and the only treatment is time. Right now, his nearly empty magical core is siphoning all available energy into its regeneration. He will be very weak for several more days, perhaps a week."

"Have you notified his friends in Cleveland?" Angel did not want to consider what Willow would do if Xander went missing for that long. A familiar, manipulative light began to dawn in the old wizard's eyes, and Angel sat up straighter. "Oh, hell no! This is your mess, you go talk to them."

After a brief staring match, Albus turned away. "Very well," he sighed, sounding suddenly old. "I suppose I'd best leave now, while it is still a decent time in Ohio." He carefully got to his feet, moving like he had broken both hips since he sat down.

Angel rolled his eyes. "Save the guilt-trip for somebody younger than you," he advised, and Albus's laughter hung in the wizard's wake. Angel closed his eyes and told himself he could almost hear the echoes even as he sat alone.

Not quite alone, he reminded himself as Xander came awake with a start, clutching Angel's shoulder with trembling fingers. "Weird dream," he mumbled to himself, patting his pillow (also known as Angel's chest). Angel could see the moment his mind began to make the connections, the way his hand froze when he realized his pillow was distinctly man-shaped, how his gaze slowly moved from Angel's shirt button to his distinctly amused face.

"Um," Xander managed, his voice rough from sleep. He blinked twice, three times, and Angel could just about see his mind attempting to kick itself into gear like a car that didn't want to start.

Angel decided to help him out. "How're you feeling?"

"Great?" Xander tried. Angel's expression clearly said he was not buying that. "Well, great-ish. More ish than great, with a little 'like crap' in there for variety, but—"

"I get it." Angel rolled his eyes.

"Where am I?" Xander suddenly asked. "'Cause I'm thinking I'm not in Kansas anymore." Seeing Angel's bewildered look, Xander added, "Wizard of Oz? No? Deadboy, we've got to get you a DVD player."

He'd called him Angel before; Angel wasn't sure how he felt about the return of the dreaded nickname. Deciding it was best to ignore all that, Angel answered the question. "We're in Scotland. This is a school for young witches and wizards."

"Scotland?" Xander squawked, shakily pushing himself upright. "But… but I don't even have a passport!"

Angel stared at him. "We skipped Customs," he deadpanned.

Xander grinned. "Hey, that was pretty funny! I didn't know you could be funny!"

"I have my moments." Angel really wanted to ask about the dream Xander had earlier, but couldn't quite bring himself to do so.

Xander had no such reluctance about asking potentially uncomfortable questions. "Hey, why did the old guy bring you here? I mean, not that I mind you being here," he added hastily, looking away, "but if he had his posse tailing me for months, he must've known about Willow and the slayers. How'd he know I knew you?"

"He and I worked together a long time ago," Angel said carefully, which wasn't really an answer at all, but it worked to distract Xander.

"You did? When? Doing what?"

"Wizards—people who perform magic with a wand—live in a world separate from everyone else," Angel began. "During World War II, an evil wizard allied himself with the Axis Powers to take over the wizarding world. His name was Grindelwald…"

Grateful for the change in topic, Angel continued, for the first time telling someone how he had been recruited to fight for a world he'd never known. Though Xander's expression was interested, Angel could see him beginning to droop once more, and he prattled on with little attention to his words, his focus on watching Xander as he lost the battle against sleep.

When Xander's breathing was finally deep and even, his heartbeat slow and steady, Angel carefully laid him down on his bed, covered him with a blanket, and made his escape. He had some serious brooding to do.