CHAPTER FOUR

Harry sat, staring blankly at the wall of the room he'd deposited himself in at 12 Grimmauld Place. A dim part of his mind that didn't really care what it was doing was telling him that Dumbledore had mentioned new headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, which meant that this house – his now-dead godfather's house – wasn't the headquarters for the Order anymore, that they were probably going to be bound for somewhere else soon. There were also eighteen cracks in the wall. His eyes roamed languorously for a nineteenth. Soon he'd forget the number and start over. It'd been like that for an hour.

There was a slight creak at his door but Harry didn't look up. "Harry," Ginny said, walking over to sit next to him on the bed. "Everyone's okay. A few scrapes and bruises and minor burns, but we all got out, even the owls."

Harry said nothing, continuing to stare at the wall.

"Harry?" Ginny asked. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"It's my fault," Harry said, no inflection in his voice at all. I wonder how many cracks there are in the wall. "If it weren't for me they'd never have targeted the Burrow."

"You heard the Death Eaters!" Ginny said, grabbing hold of Harry's arm and trying to wrench his gaze from the wall, gently. It didn't work. He kept staring. "They didn't know you were there."

"Your family would be nothing in this war if it weren't for the fact that you're my friends," Harry said. "Yeah, okay, they didn't know I was at the Burrow. But they were targeting the Burrow because they knew it'd hurt me."

"Harry, you don't know that."

"Don't I?" he asked. He was starting to shake all over. "I'm the one who sees into his head, aren't I? I know how he thinks."

"I do, too," Ginny whispered. "Remember that? Tom's perfectly willing to torture people just for the sake of torturing them."

"You're wrong about that," Harry said. Ginny started. "He only uses torture because he's good at it and it gets the fastest results for what he wants. It's not that he enjoys it – he enjoys what it gets for him."

"And what about this?" Ginny asked. "What's this get for him?"

"I don't know," Harry said. All inflection was gone from his voice again. "I don't care. I'm through watching everyone else suffer for me. I'm just through, okay? I guess I just wish I'd never been born, you know, or something."

Ginny screamed.

Harry was shaken instantly out of his reverie. Ginny had shot up off the bed and was standing, her hands pushed into her face, every visible inch of her skin a deep red. "Ginny, what - ?" Harry started to ask, but she cut him off.

"Don't you dare!" she sobbed, tears streaming freely down her cheeks and onto her hands. "Don't let him do this to you! Don't blame yourself! Blame him! For the love of everything, Harry, this is what he wants! You said it yourself. He wants something out of everything he does. Out of this, he wants to hurt you. Wants you to feel despair. And you're letting him!"

Harry crossed the space between them instantly and wrapped his arms around her. The other members of the Order, and the Weasleys, were attracted by Ginny's scream, but they stopped at the door when they saw Harry holding her, her shoulders shaking slightly. Harry lowered his head, tears beginning to run down his own face, and rested his head against hers, the soft billow of her hair wispy against his face. The observers, many of them wiping tears away themselves, slowly dispersed, with Dumbledore shutting the door.

After a few minutes Ginny pulled back far enough to look Harry in the eyes. "Promise me," she said.

"Promise you what?" Harry asked, his arms still wound around her back.

"Promise me you'll never say or think that again," she said. She wiped at a tear on her cheek and shook her head, trying to clear out the cobwebs. "We need you. It's not fair, it's not right, it's not even okay, not for you. But we need you. So promise me."

Harry's heart was starting to pick up speed. Her face is so close. "I promise," he said. She smiled, went to wipe another tear off her face, but he beat her to it, tracing his finger across her skin lightly and wiping the single drop away. It lingered on top of his finger for a second, then ran down the side, diffusing into his skin and disappearing. Her own hand, moving up to wipe it away, instead came to rest gently against Harry's hand, pressing it lightly into her face. "In case you haven't noticed, I can be a bit thick sometimes," Harry continued, laughing very lightly. "Help me keep that promise?"

Ginny nodded, letting the hand covering Harry's slip around and inside its grasp. She squeezed, making sure not to use too much pressure. "I promise," she said.

Her face is still so close.

"So, uh," Harry said, after the moment stretched just a little too far. "I guess we should go downstairs. Find out what's happening." He pulled his hand away from Ginny's face, moved the other arm which had stayed wrapped above her waist, and stepped back.

Ginny stepped back as well and brushed her hair into back into place. "Yeah, you're right," she said. "Didn't Dumbledore mention something about a new headquarters?"

"Yeah, I remember that too."

Downstairs, Harry and Ginny were met with quite an assemblage – Dumbledore, the four people he'd been with earlier, and the Weasleys had been joined by Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, and Professors Snape and McGonagall. "Ah, Harry, Ginny," Dumbledore said, his signature twinkle firmly fixed back in his eye. "We were just getting ready to get started."

"Actually, we've been waiting the last ten minutes for you," Ron muttered, looking between Harry and Ginny with a clouded expression as the two took the remaining seats at the long kitchen table. "What was up with all that?"

Harry and Ginny both blushed. "Later," Harry said. I haven't got even the faintest idea what I'm going to say to him. I'm not even completely certain of what's going on. Ugh. Shelve it. Other things at hand. Louder, and at Dumbledore, Harry spoke again. "I thought you said the Order was getting a new headquarters, Professor?"

"Quite right, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "But since that headquarters is on the grounds of Hogwarts and cannot be Apparated to directly, I deemed it prudent we come here in evacuating the Burrow. This location is still completely unknown to Voldemort's forces and we could come directly."

"What's going on with this upheval, Headmaster?" Tonks asked. "We've been hearing some pretty fetched rumours out there."

"No doubt it will be some time before we understand the full magnitude of recent events," Dumbledore said. "But our guests here have confirmed at least part of the equation we were missing. They closed a Hellmouth."

There were two reactions from around the table – shocked gasps from Lupin, Snape, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Moody, and confused glances from the rest. "A what?" Ron asked.

"Perhaps you would like to explain, Mr. Giles?" Dumbledore said, turning to the man Harry remembered as Rupert Giles from earlier introductions.

"Certainly," Giles said. "This particular Hellmouth was an area where the boundary between our dimension and the various hell dimensions as particularly weak, causing demonic energy to cross over frequently, saturating the area and making it a kind of hotspot for demons and vampires."

"It's what's beyond Dark magic," Lupin put in. "Voldemort and his followers channel, and are corrupted by, power like this, but the things that lived in the Hellmouth were made purely of that power." He turned to face Giles and the three women. "I've never heard of one being closed before. You had something to do with this, didn't you?"
"Something," the blonde woman said, looking put out by the admiring looks she and others were getting from the senior members of the Order. Even Snape looked impressed. "You know, a little medallion here, a little vampire dusting there – you could say we were part of the solution."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "We closed it," she said. "We're the Slayers."

This time there was a greater number of confused looks. "Slayers?" Ron asked. "Sorry, I'm feeling like I forgot to study or something here."

"Yeah, because that'd never happen, would it Ron?" Fred asked.

"You're on the straight-and-narrow where your studies are concerned," George said.

"The family brain," the two concluded, their mother shooting them poisonous looks and shushing them.

"It's quite all right, Ron," Lupin said, eying the three women with a new level of wariness. "Not many in Britain know of the Slayer. It's been generations since one's even been here – the Slayer is a girl who is given special abilities, speed, strength, the like, to fight and kill vampires. But forgive me, ladies – I thought there was only one Slayer. You used the plural."

"Used to be only one," the blonde replied. "Namely me. Now there's bunches. That was our doing."

"This is the primary reason for our meeting," Dumbledore said. "Ms. Summers here has become the leader of an army of sorts of newly-activated Slayers. Recently they cast a spell – a rather large and complicated bit of magic, as I understand it – which bestowed the Slayer's abilities upon every girl in the world with the potential to be the Slayer. In the wake of this action they would like to locate all of the girls who were not already gathered to them, educate them about what they have become, and offer them a safe place to learn to use their abilities.

"They wish to use Hogwarts' resources to find, instruct, and re-deploy an army of Slayers."

This pronouncement was met with silence. Well, didn't see this coming, Harry thought.

"Sounds useful," Mad-Eye said, breaking the silence with his gruff and abrupt statement. "I met a Slayer and her Watcher once when I was on assignment in Jamaica about thirty years or so ago. Never held with the prejudice against you lot here in the Wizard community. Anyone that committed to stopping evil's doing something right."

"Gotta also think of the logistics of the thing," Charlie Weasley pointed out. "Where are we going to fit a bunch of Slayers?"

"That will not be a problem," Professor McGonagall cut in, her voice as crisp and measured as ever. "Recent additions to the castle and grounds of Hogwarts have included dormitory space for Auror garrisons. It would be quite simple to expand those to accommodate the Slayers, even if there turn out to be a great number of them."

"And we have a place in LA, too," the blonde, Buffy Summers, said. "The biggest problem is going to be finding them."

"What about escalation?" Tonks asked.

"What?" Buffy asked in return.

"Escalation," she said. "We turn up with an army of Slayers, how is Voldemort going to react?"

All faces (even the Americans, who caught up quickly) turned to Snape. He scowled. "My contact with the Dark Lord has been – minimal, of late," he admitted. "My lack of involvement in the recent altercation at the Department of Mysteries has troubled him, although he has not said as much in words."

"How can you tell, then?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I am a spy," Snape replied, dismissively. "If I could not discern his thoughts and moods from minute detail I would not be able to anticipate them. And I would be dead already."

"Fine, minute detail, minimal contact, what do you know?" Harry asked, abruptly.

Snape's entire face seemed to slither into a look of utter malice. "I do not remember Mr. Potter being inducted into the Order," he said, curtly, directing his words at Dumbledore. "I for one do not appreciate the inclusion of these – children – in this meeting. Their rash actions – which resulted in the death of a senior member of this Order – have proven that they lack the maturity to participate in these proceedings."

Harry's blood hit boiling instantly. "Don't you dare talk about Sirius!" Harry said, standing, his chair tumbling backwards. "Especially not like you care! You're probably happy he's dead!"

Ron and Ginny jumped up to restrain Harry from launching himself across the table at Snape, who'd also risen at Harry's aggressive posture. "And yet the fact remains that his death is your fault," he said.

Dumbledore slowly rose to his own feet. "Enough," he said. "Harry, I chose to include you tonight out of a belief that you were ready for such involvement. Do not prove me wrong at the first opportunity."

Harry finally let his muscles relax and stopped fighting. Curiously, it was Ginny's grip that had really restrained him; he could tell that it'd have been easy enough for him to throw Ron off completely. "Yes, Professor," he said to Dumbledore, reaching down, standing his chair back up, and then sitting, looking anywhere but at Snape.

"And Severus," Dumbledore said, turning his attention on the Order's Death Eater spy. "Please do try not to bait Harry like you did with Sirius. I expect restraint out of both of you; and I expect that I will not have to remind you of that again."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said, bowing his head slightly, but casting one last grimace at Harry as he sat down, which Harry pointedly ignored.

Dumbledore cast one last glance of his own at Snape and Harry, then lowered himself back into his seat. "While we believe that the magical upheaval that caused the protection around Privet Drive and the Burrow to weaken and disappear has ended, we are still running tests," Dumbledore said. "We want to be sure that it's over before moving on to the new headquarters. I have been in communication with Hagrid and Professor Flitwick at Hogwarts; they've confirmed that the school's protective wards are intact and haven't been disturbed. However, it seemed that the Burrow's wards were intact as well until the – occurrence – earlier, and we would prefer not to take any additional risks. Minerva, Severus, Kingsley, Alastor and I will return to Hogwarts tonight to make sure that the school's protection is indeed okay, and we will call on the rest of you shortly thereafter.

"Unless anyone has any additional business," Dumbledore said, glancing around the table. "I will call this meeting adjourned."

Everyone stood, moving in several directions at once. The Weasleys, who'd been sitting together, wound up backing almost as one into a corner, talking amongst each other. Still feeling guilty (and still feeling the heat and pressure of Ginny's body against his own as she'd made him promise not to give in to despair – Harry quickly reminded himself that that was the stronger memory and couldn't help but blush again) Harry walked over to them.

"Don't know," Mr. Weasley was saying. "I'm assuming Dumbledore means to put us up at Hogwarts for the time being, but that can't be permanent."

"We'd offer you space at our place, but the flat's just not that big," Bill said, looking embarassed. "Maybe a couple of you."

"We'd have been moving out soon anyway," George said, Fred nodding. "We can move into the offices over the shop. It'll be a touch cramped but it'll only be temporary anyway."

"Stop," Harry said. All nine Weasleys stopped talking at once and looked at him. "Look, I – I feel responsible for what happened to the Burrow."

"Harry, dear - " Mrs. Weasley started, as Ginny began to look daggers at Harry.

"Let me finish, please," he said, more at Ginny than at her mother. She backed down about half an inch. "I know you wouldn't blame me."

"Yeah, we're more likely to blame the gits who actually blew the place up," Fred said.

"We're funny that way," George added, although neither statement was made with a trace of mirth.

"I know you wouldn't blame me," Harry repeated, shooting a look half annoyed, half fond at the twins. "But there it is. Anyway, I think I have a solution that works out to the best for everyone. I want you to have Grimmauld Place."

The words took a moment to sink in. "All this?" Mrs Weasley asked. "This house is a mansion!"

"Just about," Harry agreed, looking around. "And I don't want it."

"Harry, let's not be hasty," Mr. Weasley said. He looked pained. "This house is your – er, inheritance, from Sirius. It should be yours."

"Sirius never wanted this place," Harry said. "Too many bad memories. Now I rather feel the same. But you – you can turn this place into a home. And since your home is gone – no matter whose fault that is – and since I can give this to you – since, as you pointed out, it's mine – and since I don't have any desire or need for it – I think it should be yours."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other for a moment, and then, an unspoken communication having passed between them, Mrs. Weasley rounded on Harry and swept him into a teary hug. "Oh, thank you, Harry," she said.

A moment later, all eight of the other Weasleys hit him too, a giant group hug with Harry at its center. Even now life can be okay, he thought. Maybe that promise won't be so hard to keep after all.


Buffy, Giles, Kennedy, and Willow sat in the parlor at Grimmauld Place. The room had been decked out for physical training – mostly just pads on the floor and walls, but there were a few weapons as well, including – Buffy smiled – a mambele, an ax with three straight edges and one curved, a weapon which she'd used once in LA years before. She walked over to the wall and picked the mambele up off of it, testing its weight. Heavier than I remember, she thought. It's even heavier than the Scythe.

She'd left the ancient Slayer's weapon with Faith, believing it'd be a bit conspicuous to carry around Britain. And maybe a little intimidating, too. Besides, it's as much Faith's as it is mine. Buffy snorted to herself. Maybe if I repeat that a few dozen more times I'll really start believing it.

"What do you think of them?" Kennedy asked, lounging back in a comfortable chair offset from the main floor of the parlor.

"I think they're on the level," Buffy said. "Still not sure I want to go charging into their war."

"Hear you there," Willow muttered.

"I hate to come across as the uptight, curmudgeonly Brit here," Giles began.

"Come on, you know you love coming across that way," Willow said, grinning, for a second the same little girl who'd spent many a night researching with Giles and Xander in the Sunnydale High library. Buffy grimaced. Those brief glimpses of the happy people her friends used to be were sometimes the worst.

"Yes, well, seeing as we're actually in Britain right now I find it rather off-putting," Giles replied. "Anyway, as I was saying – I believe their cause is a good one. Despite our past differences they deserve our help. In a word, this is what we do."

"Yeah, and taking vacations isn't what we do," Buffy said. "I know. But I'm still not sure this war is what's best for us right now. The girls are only just getting used to the idea, let alone the reality, of actually being Slayers. Not only that but since they're the experienced ones we're going to be relying pretty heavily on them to find and train the others. That alone is a lot of pressure – do you think we can handle all that and join this war of theirs?"

"I don't know that it's really a choice, Buffy," Giles said.

"We make such a big deal about choosing to become Slayers instead of being chosen," Kennedy said. "And here we are back to being chosen, already. That took long."

"Name of the game, rookie," Buffy said. "Lots of back and forth. You're the one with the power, they're the ones with the power. They're the ones who are dead, you're the one whose dead. They come back to life, you come back to life. It's tough."

The door to the parlor slid open and a head with a great deal of red hair stuck in. "Oh, sorry," the youngest Weasley – Buffy couldn't remember her first name - "I figured no one would be in here. I'll leave you be."

"No, come in, Ginny," Kennedy said, rising to a more upright position in the chair. "We actually wanted to talk to you."

Ginny. Gotta remember that. She's probably our first.

The girl took a couple of slightly hesitant steps into the parlor. "You wanted to speak with me?" she asked. "Why?"

"It's about that pop on the shoulder you gave your boyfriend back there," Kennedy said.

Ginny instantly colored. "He's not my boyfriend," she said, looking at the floor.

"It's kind of adorable that you think that's the important part," Kennedy replied. "But I think you might be wrong about that. Anyway, it's not what we're interested in."

Ginny looked up at Kennedy. "What are you interested in, then?"

"It takes a lot of strength to pop someone's shoulder without even meaning to. The kind of strength we have."

That took a second to sink in. Ginny shook her head. "No, I couldn't possibly - "

"You're the right age," Buffy said, speaking directly to Ginny for the first time. "Probably right around how old I was when I was first chosen. You're strong, fast, athletic. You notice your surroundings instead of just being around them. And I bet you're having the dreams, too."

"Dreams?" Ginny asked, the color draining from her face. The question didn't appear to be directed at anyone in particular.

"Dreams of past Slayers," Giles threw in. "Also prophecy dreams, although those aren't as common."

Ginny was stark white. The combination of colorless skin and brilliant red hair made her look rather like a strawberry sundae, in Buffy's opinion. Or bloody marble. "You have been having the dreams, haven't you?"

"Yes," Ginny whispered. "Yes, for a while now. I figured they were just nightmares, you know? Sort of random, but all the mayhem was there, so I just chalked it up to some kind of subconscious thing."

"And the last few days you've been feeling - ?"

"Stronger," Ginny admitted. She looked Buffy right in the eye. "Faster."

"Well, that about clinches it," Buffy said, walking to stand in front of the half-petrified, half-wondrous young woman. "You're a Slayer, Ginny Weasley. Welcome to the team."

"I'm a Slayer," Ginny said, testing the words in her mouth. "I – I'm not completely certain what that means."

The four beside Ginny all exchanged looks. Preview of what's to come? Buffy thought. They're all going to have that same question. "Once upon a time, it meant that you were the only girl in the world with the power to fight vampires," Buffy explained. "Now, it means you're one of a whole bunch of girls – maybe a whole lot of girls – with the power to fight vampires."
"Plus, there's this whole sacred responsibility thing, but we're kind of rewriting the book on that as we go," Kennedy said. "Honestly, good a question as that is, this whole brave new world thing we're doing's left us without a lot of concrete answers. We're still figuring it out for ourselves."

"But we want to figure it out together," Buffy said, picking up Kennedy's thread and running with it. "We want to bring all the Slayers in the world together, to learn, and grow, and be more. And I hope that starts with you." Ginny glanced sharply at her. "That's right, you're the first new Slayer we've found. Unless Faith has managed to scare up a couple in LA."

"Faith?" Ginny asked.

"Hoo boy," Willow breathed out.

"We'll explain Faith another day," Buffy said. She grimaced. "Or maybe when we have a spare week. Look, I know this whole thing is a little overwhelming – been there, done that, eventually you get used to it but for now, it'd help not to focus on the whole big thing. Do you want to learn a little bit about being a Slayer?"

"I suppose," Ginny said. "What do you mean?"

Buffy smiled. "Ever sparred before?"

After a moment of explanation, Ginny looked skeptical. "You want me to hit you with my fists?" she asked. "We don't really do that much here."

Kennedy turned to regard Giles. "I didn't think all Brits were pansies."

"No, not here like in Britain," Ginny said, an edge of impatience overtaking her for a moment. Girl doesn't like to slow down, Buffy observed. Or be slowed down. Have to work on that. "Here, like among wizards. We don't really, you know, hit much."

"Well, as radically as we may be redefining the whole Slayer thing, I think that hitting is probably still going to be a part of the gig," Kennedy said. "Come on, you've never punched anyone before?"

"No," Ginny said. "Never. I've felt like it once or twice and I've seen it done, but anyone who deserves it just got a Bat Bogey Hex in the past."

"Bat Bogey Hex?" Buffy asked. She looked to Willow, who shrugged.

"You know, makes bats fly out of your nose," Ginny explained.

"But why 'bogey?'"

Giles cleared his throat. "That is a British thing."

The sparring session started slowly. At first, poor Ginny was way off balance, clearly out of her element, and for a moment or two Buffy considered the possibility that they'd jumped the gun. Pretty strange to find one completely by accident, she reasoned. Maybe we all just got a little excited and read too much into a strong girl with nightmares.

Then Buffy told Ginny to close her eyes and let herself relax into it. Soon, her posture loosened, she stopped telegraphing all her punches, and she managed to start parrying the light jabs and thrusts Kennedy threw at her. With a nod, Buffy signaled Kennedy to pick up the pace. After a moment of more intense punches and kicks, Kennedy went for a leg sweep that, to her slight surprise, Ginny manged to jump. Not letting it get the best of her, Kennedy let the momentum of the leg sweep carry her around into a heel kick which connected with Ginny's ribcage, rattling her and sending her to the floor.

"Are you okay?" Kennedy asked, instantly concerned.

Ginny rubbed at the spot on her ribs and smiled. "That was excellent," she said. "Can you teach me that?"

Kennedy nodded. "That and more," she said, offering a hand to pull Ginny from the floor. "There's a lot of hard work that goes into being a Slayer. Super powers only take you so far."

Ginny nodded in return, accepting the offered hand and letting Kennedy pull her to her feet. "I think I want to do that work," she said. "I want to find out, like you said, Buffy. I want to know."

Buffy grinned. "Don't suppose I can ask all the recruitment to go this well."


Scott awoke, hours after he and Allison had fallen asleep together, still laying on the cot in the ruined Hale house. Derek was there; it was clear to Scott immediately that Derek had caused him to awaken, but Scott couldn't remember hearing or feeling anything. He looked up at the new Alpha, who was staring placidly back at him. Can he just will me to wake up? Scott wondered. At some point someone's gotta write down a guidebook to all this.

"I'm heading out," Derek said. "Wanted to make sure you and Allison knew I wouldn't be around if we have any unpleasant visitors. Madison has something she said she needed to take care of, so I'm going to keep an eye on Lydia."

"I'll go, we agreed you were too conspicuous," Scott said, trying to rise and sinking back onto the bed immediately as the entire room spun.

"You're not going to be able to even get out of that bed until tomorrow at the earliest," Derek said. "It's all right, I'll keep a low profile."

"Derek, you don't know what a low profile is," Scott said. "I think you were born without the gene."

The side of Derek's mouth twitched. "You haven't seen every side of me yet, Scott," he said. "Make sure to rest up."

He was gone.

Scott looked down to see if they'd woken Allison. Her breathing was still even. Scott began to settle back. "Was Derek just hitting on you?" Allison asked.

Scott sighed. "I don't think so," he said. "Then again, I can never tell what's going on in that guy's head, so who knows. Maybe that'll be another great werewolf thing. 'Hey, Scott, not only do you transform into a hairy, clawed monster and go crazy at the full moon, you're now obligated to be gay!' That'd be my luck."

Allison laughed, turned over so that she was facing Scott on the bed. "You have something against being gay?" she asked.

"No," Scott said, quickly. "No, I don't have anything against gay people. Or people being gay. Or whatever. It's just, you know, I'm not."

Allison raised an eyebrow and cast a pointed glance down towards where their pelvic areas were touching. "I think I can tell." Scott instantly blushed. "No, don't get embarrassed," Allison said, starting to laugh. "It's good. Means your muscles are working properly."

Scott managed to lift an arm to rub the bridge of his nose. "You're making fun of me."

Allison giggled again and whispered, "I think the word you're looking for there is actually 'teasing.'"

"Yeah, that one."

She smiled and kissed his forehead. "Remember, it's a tease for me, too," Allison pointed out. She sat up slightly on the bed. "I don't suppose you need to be fully mobile for me to have my fun with you, but that'd be taking advantage."

"You're a little scary sometimes," Scott said.

"Come on, I'm not serious," Allison said, reclining back down to eye level.

"I know," Scott said. He wanted to add something else but couldn't think of anything and the silence stretched into discomfort.

"Scott, about earlier. When I first showed up."

I'd really been hoping she wouldn't bring that up. "Yeah," he said. "About that."

"What happened?" Allison asked, all trace of smile and laughter gone. "I mean, did I just frighten you or what?"

"Maybe," Scott said. He could tell from the look in her eyes that that wasn't nearly good enough. "I don't know, Allison. Just, the second you started toward me I felt like – like I needed to get away." He bowed his head, not wanting to look into her eyes as he said it. "I don't know why. It's not what I wanted. I wanted you here with me, like this, because this is what feels right. It's the only thing right now that feels right."

She brought a hand to his face, tilted it up towards her own. "Maybe it's a wolf thing," she said, clearly trying to put conviction behind it.

"Maybe," Scott said. "Probably. But I don't know what it means, or why it happened."
"Maybe we just put it behind us, then," Allison said.

"Yeah," Scott said. "That's probably best. Neither of us really knows what the whole werewolf thing means for our relationship. We just need to take it a step at a time."

"Right," Allison said. Her eyes were teary. "A step at a time."

"Hey, don't cry," Scott said, trying to move his arms around her to comfort her. The effort felt like it cost him several years of his life, but eventually he got his arms arrayed around her shoulders. "We're going to get through this together. I love you, remember?"

"Of course I remember," she whispered back. "I love you too."

They held each other until they drifted back to sleep.


Dean was sitting on his bed in their motel room; Sam was pacing. He looks so calm, Sam thought. How does he always do that? Well, I guess it wasn't his – the thought stopped. He wasn't even sure what to think of Madison as. The first thought was 'girlfriend' but upon further consideration he decided that a girl he'd slept with once and known less than a week probably didn't qualify, however he'd felt about her. Lover? Sam though. Ugh. Sounds so Victorian.

"You want to sit down before you wear a hole in the floor?" Dean asked.

"I can't just sit around," Sam said.

"'Cause what you're doing right now is helping," Dean said, reclining.

"I just – damn it, I need to know what's happening."

"Well, let's look at the facts," Dean said.

"Madison is alive," Sam said. The words felt completely wrong coming from his mouth.

Dean frowned. "Yeah," he said. "You're sure you - ?"

Sam turned to Dean, frowning as well. "Of course I'm sure. How many things have I killed with that gun? I shot her in the heart, Dean. No way I could have missed, and even if I didn't hit the heart directly – which I did – there's no way I could have missed by enough to leave her alive. No way."

"Okay, okay," Dean said, raising his hands and trying to calm his brother down. "I'm just saying, you were more than a little broken up about the whole thing. That can play tricks on you."

"No tricks," Sam said. "I shot her in the heart. Checked her pulse – she was gone."

"So, she came back," Dean continued, hypothesizing. "Or she healed."

"Her heart could have stopped temporarily while her body began to repair the damage," Sam said. "I've read about cases where people have been legally dead for over a minute while their bodies have begun to fix whatever the problem was in the first place."

"And those were normal people, I'm betting," Dean said. "Madison's a werewolf. Throw that into the mix and who knows how much she could heal from. Or how quickly. For all we know she was still stone cold by the time we hit the state line."

"So, what, shoot them in the heart and they don't die?" Sam asked.

"Actually, shoot us like normal people at all and we don't die."

Neither brother had heard the door open. Both whirled, drawing their guns and pointing them at the female figure that stood in their doorway. Madison raised her hands. "I surrender," she said.

"Geez," Dean muttered. "Ever try knocking?"

Sam didn't respond. He closed the distance between them slowly, until he was standing right in front of her. She wore an expression that seemed half-bemused, half-sad. "Madison?" Sam asked.

"It's me, Sam," she said, reaching out to brush a hand across his chest. "In the flesh."

Sam stood there for a moment and let the sensation of her hand making contact with his chest rush through him. "How? I shot you."

She retracted the hand and smiled, although it didn't look like a happy smile. "I overheard a bit of your conversation," she said. "You pretty much got it right. I woke up about a day after you left. Wasn't sure what the hell happened. Was pretty confused for the first few minutes – what's my name, where am I, all sorts of things. Then it started coming back to me. Thought about trying to kill myself for a while but scrapped the idea – you couldn't manage to kill me, kinda doubt I'd manage to kill me. So I figured I'd try to find you."

"Why us?" Dean asked.

She gave Sam a significant glance that lasted just long enough for Dean to roll his eyes. "You guys were the only people I'd ever met who seemed to know anything about this," she said. "Not everything, apparently, but something. And after I killed those people I couldn't just stay in my job and all that. It helps to have a goal in life, so, short-term, my goal was to find you. Finally tracked you to this little bar that just got rebuilt and they told me to find you here."

"Guess that girl who showed up at the Roadhouse wasn't one of your admirers after all," Sam said.

"Not so much, no," Madison said, although she was staring very heavily at Sam as she said it.

Dean cleared his throat. "I guess maybe I should go out and check on the car," he said. "You know, make sure it still has wheels and stuff."

When neither his brother or the werewolf girl responded, except to nod distractedly, Dean pushed off of his bed, muttering to himself, and exited the motel room.

As soon as he was gone, Sam tried to speak. "Madison, I - "

He didn't finish the sentence. Madison had flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a very deep kiss. Almost involuntarily Sam's arms snaked around behind Madison and pulled her closer, pressing her body against his. Coherent thought left Sam and for a few minutes all there was in the world were their bodies pressed tightly against each other and their lips and tongues and skin, a world of heat and pressure and nothing bad or terrible.

When finally she pulled back, she licked her lips. "Knew I was looking for you for a reason," she said, lightly.

"Look, Madison," Sam said, disentangling himself from her. "I – how are you even okay being around me? I shot you. I meant to kill you."

"Yeah, and as I remember it, I asked you to," she said. "I think we were both a little on edge."

"Madison - " Sam began, trying not to sound like he was whining. There are just too many questions.

"No, Sam, stop," she said, placing a hand firmly on his chest again. "First of all, there's a limit to just how sensitive you can be about these things. It's really not a big deal from my perspective. Given everything I've talked about with Derek I think we both overreacted."

"Overreacted?" Sam asked. "I – did you ever stop to think maybe I – you know, cared about you? That I haven't even started to deal with it yet? That it's taken a ton of effort just to get out of bed in the morning since it happened?"

"Oh, Sam, you're missing my point completely," she said. "I appreciate how seriously you took the whole thing. But we didn't need to. I'm okay, you didn't even really hurt me because the gunshot knocked me out and by the time I woke up I'd healed completely, and now – now I'm better than okay. Now I have a pack."

"And that's a good thing?" Sam asked, an eyebrow quirking.

"The best thing, apparently," Madison said. "We – werewolves, I mean – don't have to be completely wild. It can be controlled. And packs help with that control. Derek and the younger one, Scott – and the one in the hospital, Lydia, she's turning right now – the four of us can help each other to beat this thing. We can still be people, even if we're wolves, too. And we can be – well, whatever we were becoming."

Sam sighed. "I don't know, Madison."

She looked instantly hurt. "But I thought - "

"Oh, I felt something," Sam reassured her. "Definitely. But – but up until a little while ago I thought you were dead. It's a lot to take in."

"Yeah," Madison said. "Yeah, I guess I can see that. And we wouldn't want to make any more hasty decisions. Last time we did that you shot me."

"Yeah, I guess that was a mistake."

"So, no more hasty decisions? Consider everything fully before committing to anything?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"The last time we had a conversation like this we wound up having sex," Madison said. "If I remember correctly, like, right after. Or kind of during."

"Uh," Sam said. "Well, if you want to have sex now, I guess."

To his surprise, Madison nodded. "Oh, I want to have sex now," she said. "I don't know if it's a wolf thing or what but my libido has been crazy ever since I started tracking you. I had to fight down the urge to bone every idiot little boy I ran into on the way here. Hell, even your brother was looking appealing a minute ago."

"He's so going to resent that remark tomorrow," Sam asid.

"Question is, is he going to resent having to sleep in the car tomorrow?" Madison asked.

Sam brushed by her, locked the door, and quirked an eyebrow at her.

With a wink, she turned and, exaggerating her unusual slight swagger, walked over to the bed Sam had claimed as his. Sam followed her. "How could you tell that was my bed?" he asked.

"I can smell the difference," Madison said. She whirled to face him. "Enhanced senses. I'm starting to get in touch with the ones I can use when I'm still like this. It includes enhanced tactile senses. In other words," she said, unbuttoning her blouse and letting it fall to the floor, "every inch of my skin is extra sensitive."

She advanced on Sam, her eyes glowing yellow, and she picked him up – Sam marveled at the strength – and tossed him onto the bed, climbing on top of him. The next few minutes were devoted to the removal of the rest of their clothes, some of which wound up tattered; the next few hours thereafter were devoted to slightly more pleasant activities.


A/N: Again, yes, no Craig or Circle sections. I promise that both of them will be showing up again next chapter. And, yes, this chapter was a lot shorter than the first three. Next chapter should help pick up the story's pace a bit. As ever, if you have anything you'd like to let me know about it, send me up a review.