Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon. I do not own anything. I am making no profit whatsoever in writing this story. This is an amateur attempt.
A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed (and those who read).
This story is just about wrapped up, to let you know. A couple more chapters ought to do it.
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He dodged a swipe and managed to sidestep an arching kick, but a vicious head butt knocked him on his bottom.
Wind whooshed out of his lungs as the vampire he was fighting jumped on top of him, wrapping its hands around his neck and squeezing.
He thought back to Buffy, and what she would do if she were in this situation.
She'd throw a witty comment, possibly a metaphor about the size of the vampire's genitalia, get promptly embarrassed, then reciprocate.
Sirius decided to forgoe the witty comment, but not the head butt. He watched as the vampire, yowling in pain, arched spectacularly for three full meters before landing jarringly on its back.
"Right, er, good work. Now stake it."
"Stake it?" Sirius questioned.
Rupert blinked, glasses glinting in the dull cemetery post light. "You do have a stake?"
Sirius focused on the book in Rupert's hand. THE SLAYER HANDBOOK. On Rupert's urging, he had read the handbook . . . sort of. He vaguely remembered something about carrying a stake at all times, but had been more interested in the medieval weaponry section. "I might have forgotten it?"
The watcher sighed. Irritably. Then took off his glasses. "Buff―Sirius . . . surely you have memories of Buffy carrying stakes―?"
"Actually, she hardly ever did," Sirius interrupted. "Unless specifically hunting. At other times I remember her using whatever pieces of wood she could find. Those large green rubbish things in the alleys are full of old wooden boards, and of course the trees in the graveyards speak for themselves."
Rupert put on his glasses and looked around, as though to confirm that there really were trees. Then he sighed, this time morosely. "You'd know better than me, I expect. And not to sound nitpicky, but you are specifically hunting now."
Sirius felt something large knock into him. Just as quickly he landed on the ground again, this time on his side.
"Oh good," he heard Rupert saying dryly. "Let's give the vampire time to recover, shall we?"
A fist swiped his cheek and he tasted blood.
"How on earth did you manage defeating those demons when you first came here?" Rupert continued. "According to Xander there was a whole pack of them."
Sirius gasped, holding the vampire's head (and its dangerous teeth) away from his neck. "I don't know," he gritted out. "Must have been adrenalin. Plus the fact that I wasn't quite sure who I was yet. One second I was Buffy, the next I was wondering why I didn't have a pe―"
"Well become Buffy again and finish him off." The watcher was clearly getting impatient. "Attack as well as defend, Sirius. You cannot have one without the other if you wish to survive."
"If I could just get him off . . . ―ow! It bit me!"
"That does tend to happen around vampires." Clearly, Rupert Giles was on a role tonight.
But Sirius had had enough. And so had his bleeding finger. "Look, d'you have a stake in your pocket or what?"
Eyes staring at something only sarcasm could see, Rupert reached into his jacket pocket, palmed the stake, tossed it. It landed on the ground beside Sirius.
Legs lifting so they were now almost bent in two, he pushed against the vampire's stomach. There was a dull thump as it landed ten feet away. Sirius scrambled to his feet, yanked up the stake with a quick "Thanks", ran to the vampire, and staked it before it could think to shoot up again.
Or, that's what was supposed to happen.
"Isn't it supposed to turn into dust?"
"If you stab the heart, then yes," said Rupert.
"And the heart's on the left side I take it."
"Quite."
Sirius yanked out, lunged down, staked.
xxxxxx
"So. First official patrol ever. How'd it go?"
He sank down on the couch beside Dawn, stretched his feet onto the coffee table. He caught himself staring at the flat shoes. He remembered Buffy wearing heeled boots or some other girly footwear, skirts, singlets, make up, and all the rest of it, but Sirius had put his foot down when Dawn had attempted to dress him the same way. He might look like a girl, but he wasn't one. The only reminiscently manly clothing in Buffy's cupboard that Sirius had found ― and, been informed by Dawn, were currently half a year out of fashion ― were checked shirts, plain black pants (almost embarrassingly snug), and a pair of muggle trainers. Also a leather jacket, which Sirius had instantly taken a liking to.
"After the first time I staked two more vampires ― very professionally, I might add ― and twisted the head off a slimy demon that kept snarling 'Kartrach' at me."
"What happened the first time?"
"Rupert distracted me so I got bitten on the finger," Sirius answered. "And I missed the heart."
"Ooh, was it after that that you got bitten?"
"No, that happened before."
She stared at him, blue eyes concerned. "Do you need me to clean it? After all, you don't have your magicy thing to help you now, right?"
"Thank you, but I doubt I'll need bandages . . . unless vampires have, erm, rabies, is it?" The idea wouldn't leave his head. "I suppose they'd have to have it. I mean, they're carnivores, aren't they? Drinking raw blood, and all that. Vampires likely have the most unhygienic mouths . . ."
Dawn stared. Then shuddered. "Ew. You know, I never thought of that. And you are so right. I mean, they're even worse than tigers, right? And if a tiger bites you, you have to get a tetanus shot."
Sirius blinked. Did you? "Er, right."
"Oh my god, ew!" Dawn suddenly shouted, and Sirius jumped slightly. "I've just had a really disgusting thought. Buffy's kissed vampires before. I mean, she could be diseased."
Dawn, hesitantly, moved away a little and Sirius could not help the hysterical laughter from spouting forth. He had no idea what exactly he found so funny, all he knew was that he did.
Dawn simply stared.
Sirius laughed even harder. "I doubt I am, Dawn. Slayer blood must have immunity against those sorts of things," he managed.
"Yeah, cause slayers go around kissing vampires all the time."
That did it. He started up again. Dawn's tone, which reminded him so much of his own, was suddenly the funniest thing he'd every heard.
He quieted eventually. Merlin, but that had felt good. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much. Recently, only Harry and Remus had ever managed . . .
"It sounds different," she said quietly.
Sirius wiped his eyes. "What?"
"Your laugh. It's sounds different from Buffy's."
The subsequent silence was a little awkward.
Finally, he said, "How did Buffy's sound like?"
She smiled, and thought for a bit. "I guess, kinda squeaky and hoarse all at the same time."
"Definitely different from mine, then."
"Yeah, yours is just hoarse. And doggish, almost. Like a bark. But its wiggy hearing it coming out of Buffy's mouth, with Buffy's voice, you know?"
Sirius smiled. "Yeah. I expect it is . . . wiggy."
Dawn switched the television on.
". . . Who is Albert Einstein?"
"That is correct."
"You know, Buffy would never do that."
Sirius blinked, and looked to where the girl was pointing. "Right. Sorry." He quickly slipped his feet off the little table.
"No, no. It's totally okay. It helps with the distinguishing."
Sirius slowly moved his feet back.
Dawn smiled.
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"When are they supposed to arrive again?"
Rupert looked up, halted in mid-sip. "Tonight. A few hours after sunset."
"Right. Can't expect a vampire to travel during the day."
"The older ones can be . . . bold. Though generally they prefer to wait until it's dark," he elected to explain, and went back to his thick leather-bound text.
Sirius stared at him a few seconds, and went back to his own.
They were in the magic shop. He and all of Buffy's friends, sitting around the table. Buffy's sister was currently at school, something about a math quiz. Sirius, being quite good at school, especially Transfiguration and Arithmancy, had offered to help if Dawn needed any.
She hadn't.
"What exactly am I looking for?" Sirius asked, closing shut Demons, Dimensions, and Decapitations. "We didn't exactly cover alternate dimensions in Charms, for Merlin's sake. Until I came here . . . I mean I thought they weren't possible . . . in fact I didn't even know about them until I accessed Buffy's memories."
"Well why don't you access some more, quit complaining, and let us work."
"Xander!" Rupert and Willow said sharply.
"Sorry," Xander said, but Sirius couldn't tell whether he'd meant it or not.
The boy seemed to take Sirius's existence ― or possibly the lack of Buffy's ― personally, as though Sirius were the one at fault; as though Sirius hadn't been the one prevented from going to heaven, only to wake up in a coffin six feet under piles of dirt, having to crawl out, subsequently battle demons, deal with having his mind confused, save everyone, then leap off a tower with a fifteen-year-old-girl in tow. As though it were Sirius's fault that Buffy's soul was not where it was supposed to be.
Or he could be wrong. The boy might be angry at himself and his friends for performing the resurrection in the first place, thus having all that result.
That scenario was a whole lot more plausible, Sirius had to admit. After all, Xander had never been a shallow boy, and was far more intuitive than any of his friends. He was likely lashing out at Sirius because he just . . . couldn't comprehend.
Himself.
His friends.
The horror of what they'd done.
A quiet voice interrupted the silence. "Giles?"
Sirius, and everyone, looked up.
"Hmm?" said Rupert, still skimming.
"I-I-I think I may have found something."
That got Rupert's attention.
Tara handed over the book. "There's a mention about a veil―" Sirius sat up "―and it sounds kinda like the one Sirius told us about. I know it really has nothing to do with crossing dimensions―"
"You're quite wrong, Tara" the watcher interjected. "It leads to one of the largest dimensions of all: the realm of the after life. You cross the veil, and you're instantly dead. I'd imagine that you're body would also deteriorate quite rapidly, leaving only an imprint behind. You're soul, in other words."
Eyes flitted to Sirius.
"Of course all this is meant metaphorically," Rupert continued. "No doubt inspired by sayings such as 'Crossing the Veil' or 'The Archway of Lost Souls' and the like. But in Sirius's world there really is a veil. Apparently one where departed souls ― no matter if the person crossed through the actually physical curtain or died in some other fashion ― wait around."
"But, but where does it lead?" Tara blinked. "Heaven or Hell?"
"Myth says either," Rupert sighed. "It's supposed to be a sort of holding ground, a limbo, until such time comes when one is expected to cross over. It's reputed to be a very lonely place. There are souls around you, but you can't really converse with them, you can't really see them, and they can't see you. You think you're all alone in there, but in reality you're one of . . . infinite."
"So that's why those voices . . ." Sirius began.
Rupert frowned. "Yes?"
Sirius licked his bottom lip. "The veil at the Ministry . . . I could hear voices from it. Whispering. The whispers got louder the closer I approached. It was almost hypnotic. The first time I saw the veil I wanted to fall through."
"That's likely because they wish for the living. Specifically, they wish to be living. If someone were to listen to the voices and fall through, one of them, if they were desperate enough, would likely come out and take that person's place. A sort of exchange."
Everyone blinked, and, as one, looked at Sirius.
"Good Lord. Sirius . . . you fell through."
He stared at the watcher's incredulous face. "I did."
Willow, brow furrowed, looked between them. "Does, does this mean something fell out?"
Sirius looked at her, then at Rupert. "You mean there's a thing wandering around the wizarding world?"
"Not a thing, precisely . . ." Rupert hedged.
"What, a ghost? That'll be alright, then. We have plenty of ghosts at Hogwarts."
"No, it definitely wouldn't be a ghost. Theoretically, ghosts have already crossed over ― 'into the veil' as it were. They've already chosen their after life, which is to live in the world that they left behind, but with distinct disadvantages. Being unable to eat and touch and so forth . . . which is why they're always so . . . unhappy, I suppose. But they also have advantages that physical beings do not ― unable to be hurt. Unable to die again, but still able to interact with the world around them.
"No, it's not a ghost. It's more like . . . well, I don't remember exactly. But I know I've read it." He picked up the book Tara had given him, skimmed with his finger.
Five minutes later and Giles still appeared to be reading over the same passage again. "Oh," he said at last.
"Watch out. That's never a good sign," Anya said, and bit the corner off a biscuit.
Xander spread his hands. "What is it, Giles?"
"What?" Rupert looked up. "Oh, erm . . . yes . . . it appears that, well . . ."
"What?" Sirius asked.
"Was there anything specific that you heard before you actually fell?"
Sirius had not been expecting such a straightforward question, and was a bit thrown. "Er, well I was a bit knocked out at the time . . . but I remember hearing as I got closer to it, as I was fighting . . . well it sounded a lot like banging, didn't it? I thought it came from the battle, but now that I think on it . . . it could have easily come from inside the veil."
Sirius thought about what that meant for a bit, then shuddered.
The thought of his body, rotting away behind there . . .
"No distinct voices?"
"Apart from the hundreds I was already hearing?" Sirius said dryly.
"Quite," Rupert said.
"What was the point of asking me that?"
"I was trying to determine if anything evil had come through, because if it had . . ."
Sirius slowly leaned forward, hands clenching, unclenching. "'Because if it had' what?"
The silence was an ocean long.
Rupert finally spoke. "The things that come out of the veil, that work as an exchange . . . their bodies completely . . . well they're not souls anymore. They develop . . . mass. They become, in essence, what they once were ― except for one very important thing: they are still sort of dead, like ghosts but with all the human motor functions ― the heart beats, they eat, digest, etcetera ― and like ghosts they're ―"
"Impervious to all harm," Sirius concluded.
"With none of the disadvantages," the watcher finished.
"Because they're immortal," Anya injected.
Rupert blinked. "It would appear so."
"And if the being turns out to be evil . . .? said Tara.
"Then it's hello Darth Vegas," Xander finished.
Rupert adjusted his glasses. "Yes, thank you for that assessment, Xander. As much as we all appreciate it . . ."
"I'm zippin'," the boy said, and pretended to zip up his mouth.
"Uh, guys, I'm having an idea," said Willow, breathing hard. "In fact I'm having a really . . . well . . . a really strange idea." She looked around, but avoided Rupert's and Sirius's gazes. "Do you think it might have been Buffy?"
At the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Rupert sit up. "What?"
"Do you think it might have been Buffy? Behind the veil, I mean."
"I really don't see how," Rupert frowned. "She had fulfilled her purpose. She should not have been waiting there. She should have gone straight to . . . well, wherever."
"Unless the Powers-That-Be or whatever knew that I was going to be attempting her resurrection. They're supposed to be All Knowing and stuff, right?" The red-head's eyes were a little . . . crazed. "I mean, why else would we have gotten Sirius's soul instead of Buffy's? He must have taken her place behind the veil when he fell through . . . and she must have been the exchange. It all makes sense!"
"Willo―"
"No!" She stood up. "Why else would it screw up? I did everything right. All the rituals . . . I, I, I followed everything, exactly . . . it could have . . . it couldn't have . . ." she looked down, swallowed.
"Willow," Xander said gently, "you're forgetting the biker demons."
"Yeah, yeah, they ruined the urn," Tara added. "That was the reason why . . . we all agreed it was."
Sobbing, not wanting to listen, Willow ran out of the store.
Xander asked quietly, "Do you think it could be possible?"
Rupert was looking distinctly . . . frightened. "It might. It would certainly explain why Sirius is here instead. But then . . ."
The watcher didn't elaborate.
xxxxx
"She survived the Killing Curse, Ron! Of course she's going to be feeling . . . not herself."
"Pomfrey won't even let us see them."
"Why should she? What are you to Buffy? Are you family?"
"We're as good as," said Ron stubbornly. "We're the ones who welcomed her in when she first came into this world. How many times has she been over our place?"
"'When she first came into this world'?" Hermione scoffed. "Honestly, stop being so dramatic."
"What about Harry, then? He's our best friend. We should be allowed to see him."
"And don't forget, Hermione―"
"Weasley! Granger! Longbottom! Weasley! Lovegood!"
"Professor McGonagall!"
"Professor!"
"Eep!"
"What are you lot doing hovering outside the hospital wing? Be on your way now!"
"But Harry and Buffy―"
"And Professor Dumbledore―"
"Are resting. Which is what you should be doing. Off to bed with the five of you."
A head full of black hair and a stern witch's hat poked through the double doors of the hospital wing a minute later. McGonagall blinked. "Oh. Buffy, Potter, the students ― they didn't wake you up, did they?"
Buffy lied. "No. I was already awake." She glanced at Harry.
He caught it, quickly said, "I was awake, too."
"Good then. I'd best summon Poppy. She's having dinner at the moment."
She left.
As one, they both turned to look at the headmaster, sleeping in a bed opposite. "D'you think he'll be alright?" Harry said quietly.
She knew that wasn't really a question. "Yeah. I mean, the poison left him weak, but, if it hasn't killed him by now . . ." she shrugged. "Also, the nurse wouldn't have left."
"I guess."
Silence.
Buffy felt a stare. "What?"
He continued staring. "Nothing, it's just . . . I'm not the only survivor anymore."
"Welcome to the club?" Buffy tried. Her lame attempt at a joke.
"Something like that." He scratched his chin, smiled. "You know you're going to be hounded by the press, don't you? You're the wizarding world's new saviour now."
She frowned. Was he allowed to look so happy at that? "I doubt that, Harry."
"Why?"
His question was so serious, so straightforward, that she blinked. "Well . . . huh?"
"Why do you doubt that?"
His green eyes were so . . . expressive. Like Dawn's. "Why do I doubt that? I guess it's because practically no one knows about me, outside certain―" she had to stop. She had to stop because Harry was laughing his . . . dorky hair off. "What is it now?"
"You can't honestly believe that? And stop pouting."
"I wasn't . . ." Okay, maybe she was. "And I so can believe that."
He became serious. "Buffy, think what you've done since you've come to this world. You've defeated the leader of the werewolf pack. You've join the Order. You've fought vampires. You've saved Dumbledore ― the greatest, most powerful, and most respected wizard ever ―. . . by now, Voldemort would have heard of you from all the Death Eaters we hadn't managed to capture tonight, and not just him, but everyone! Everyone knows about you."
"What? How could they? I haven't been here that long."
He searched her eyes. "Are you forgetting that you've registered yourself with the Ministry?"
"That shouldn't make a difference. It's not like a person will wake up one day and go 'Oh, I think I might go check and see who and where all the beasts in the wizarding world are'. Besides, the Ministry told me all my information is in a private file stored in the deepest, darkest, dustiest vault place they have."
"Actually," Harry said, "the person waking up one day thing . . . that's already happened."
She stared.
"Buffy, you're in the newest version of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Hermione got a copy delivered a couple of weeks ago. Newt Scamander goes to the Ministry every year as part of his research, to see if any new beasts have been discovered that he hadn't found himself. Every couple of years he releases a new edition of Fantastic Beasts. You're right under Shrake and before Snidget. Slayer comma The."
"What? Those sleazebags! I told them to put Vampire Slayer!"
"Pardon?"
"I mean, you can't be serious."
"I am and, er, are you going to blink any time soon? You're eyes are watering."
She blinked.
"He even describes your mating habits."
Her head whipped. She was knew her glare was furious. "What?"
Harry ducked his head and blushed. "N-not that I read that bit. Ron did, though."
"Good, because whatever the book says it's not true ―! Wait, Ron did?"
"And he also describes your living conditions," Harry said quickly, "and what sort of powers you have."
"How the heck would he know? I haven't told anyone. Only Dumbledore."
"Er, Buffy," Harry frantic tone had her turning. "You might want to let up on the bed."
"Huh?" She looked down. The metal bed frame had twisted into a . . . thing. She let go. "Oops."
Harry shrugged and lifted his wand from the draws next to his bed. "It's easily reparable. Reparo."
The metal untwisted. "Nifty. Now what did it say about my living conditions?"
"That you prefer cold dark places, warm chocolate, and eat plenty of vegetables."
She and Harry both turned. Grinned.
"Professor! About time you woke up."
"Good to see you again, sir."
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