"Your sister?" Remus repeats with a dumbfounded tone, his arms rubbing mine in soothing circular motions.
I nod tiredly, a trace of hysteria and sorrow still coursing through me after seeing the boggart, "Yeah, she's gone through Hell and back, lately."
By now, the three kids have hurried over and seated themselves in a protective circle around me. Ron and Ginny's vibrant hair catches my attention, and I cast heavy eyes on them until I can feel them water and blur. I rub my eyes gently, and hastily wipe away any tear tracks on my face. I blink a few times in an effort to clear the saltiness left from my tears.
"She didn't look like you," Remus muses quietly, his arms now by his sides, leaving the damp air to chill my skin.
I sigh, "It's a long story. Just believe that she is, okay?"
"Of course," Remus replies, a worried crinkle forming on his brow. Good one, Buffy. Just had to mention that Dawn's more complicated that she seems, right?
Snape's left, I notice, as I pick myself up from the ground. And the kids are very quiet. Dusting a film of dust off my clothes, I glance at them. I can tell Hermione is trying not to be rude and stare, but her curiousity is palpable from here. Ron and Ginny, however, don't bother to hide their shock, and the expressions on their faces are almost laughable.
"Come on," I beckon from the doorway, desperate to leave the room, "I always need a good cookie after a cry."
They follow, trooping out of the room and across the dim landing towards the kitchen. Remus trails behind, quietly shutting the door, and once again, I'm reminded at the eerie stillness of this place.
"Thank you," I murmur, suddenly shy and feeling my cheeks heat up.
He lifts my chin with a finger, like Xander used to, "I'm sorry you had to go through that at all, Buffy. It's one of the worst creatures to ever encounter unguarded."
I simply nod, and follow him towards the stairs, but hesitate as Remus goes down.
"Something wrong?" he turns and asks.
I pause.
"No, no, I just need to get a change of clothes, that's all. Sliding down that cupboard left me with an icky feeling," I reply with a reassuring smile, "Just save me a cookie, 'kay?"
Remus chuckles as he turns back around. I continue across the landing, but instead of returning to my room, I seek out the glinting serpent head. The creepy hiss resonates from the silver doorknob, but I ignore it and knock softly.
Silence, and then the door swings open, revealing a scowling Snape.
"What do you want, Summers?" he asks irritably.
I try to keep my face blank, even though I have the strong urge to smack him.
"Mind if I come in?"
I smother a snigger when I see him try to squash his surprise. Bet no one's asked that in a while. Not saying a word, he steps to one side and I step through the door.
An immediate chill tingles across my skin, but unlike the other room, there is a lesser sense of dampness. The room is incredibly dark, with only a dim chandelier lighting the room. Colour me surprised when I see black satin sheets spread across the bed.
"Nice pad," I comment, grabbing a nearby chair and plopping down on it.
His glare has returned to its usual place, and I inwardly sigh. There is no hope with this man. It's like he lives off self-pity. I realise with a startle that it is not unlike myself a few days ago...
"I just wanted to say thanks for saving me from that boggart," I say, my gaze focused intently on a tiny speck on the dark carpet.
There's a long pause, and then, "It's nothing. Should've been there when Malfoy took you anyhow."
I raise my eyes and brush off his comment, "Was nothing you could do. This Malfoy guy would've found some other way to get me, and if what Dumbledore said is right, we would've had more than just one injured Slayer to take care of."
I see that he isn't going to argue; I expect as much. But his next question catches me off-guard.
"You sacrificed for her, didn't you?"
My body stiffens, and I hastily avert my gaze. What can I say? It's been nearly a year, but I still don't feel ready. What to say, what to say, what to say...
"I sacrificed for a lot of people," I murmur, picking imaginary lint off my pants.
"Why?"
Startled, I look at Snape. His eyes, for once, are unguarded. Now, they burn with an emotion that I have often seen in Angel's. The need for redemption. He's shrouded in darkness, a thick blanket that he's trying to throw off, but it's suffocating him.
"The same reason that you're here," I reply tonelessly with a shrug, "because if I don't, it's wrong."
The moment the words leave my mouth, bolts of pain pierce my mind and I bring my hands up to cradle my head. I feel myself falling off the chair, writhing in the blinding pain that's strickening me. I shut my eyes, and immediately, the pain subsides, but the sharp throbbing is accompanied with familiar words.
You can't do that...it's wrong! Because it's wrong...because it's naughty...because it's wrong...because it's wrong...you can't do that...
"SHUT UP!" I scream, not noticing the strong arms that have lifted me, "get out of my head! Get out!"
Do you think I'm afraid of you...you're nothing...you're out of your league, little girl...
The voice has changed, and now it sends alarming prickles down my spine, causing me to twitch tensely. The throbbing has increased to loud thudding in my ears, and all I can hear is the incessant hissing in my head.
The Slayer does not walk in this world...it's wrong...it's naughty...you're nothing...Now there's a painful burning in my hands, and I whimper. The pain is much worse than that of the Crucio...this is never-ending torture.
Counting down from 7-3-0, Slayer...watch your back.
The throbbing suddenly leaves, and I collapse in relief. I barely notice that I'm lying on the kitchen table once more, a pair of calloused hands resting soothingly on my head.
God, how much pain do I have to go through in this place? I didn't realise leaving Sunnydale meant coming right back to it. Evil factor, anyway.
"Miss Summers, are you alright?" an aged voice asks, and I recognize that it's Dumbledore.
"No," I croak, but try to sit up, nonetheless.
I gently push away hands trying to support me, and gratefully take the glass of pumpkin juice from a worried Molly Weasley. Once I swallowed the cool liquid, I gave my temple a few rubs before turning to Dumbledore. Snape is there too, but in the corner once again. There's only the four of us.
A vague thought wanders through my mind, wonder where Remus and the kids are...or even Sirius, for that matter. Brushing the thoughts aside, I straighten my back and talk through the hoarse tone of my voice.
"I've been getting this weird messages, lately," I begin quietly, playing with my glass, "memories of a sort. Little parts of speech from the past that come flitting through my mind."
"Lately it's gotten worse, more frequent, and usually with pain," I say, feeling guilty when I hear a soft gasp from Molly.
"Why didn't you tell us, dear?" she asks in an anxious voice, mixed with a trace of hurt.
I shrug. Why didn't I tell anyone? Because you're the Slayer, a tiny voice whispers menacingly.
Dumbledore muses silently, his usual twinkling eyes now dampened by the situation.
"And what happened just now?"
"Voices again. It started with mine, well, Faith's actually, but she was in my body at the time, and," I trail off. It's hard to explain exactly what happened with Faith, let alone that she was a rogue Slayer who shouldn't even have been posted.
"Anyway, voice, like I said," I continue, "then this hissing, evil voice repeated words that sounded like the First..."
The First. Here, in my head. Oh God.
Not again.