Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling.
Timeline (not including prologue): Harry Potter starts during the fifth book, The Order of the Phoenix. To be precise, in the middle of Chapter 27, page 605 (although, depending on the book, the page number will be different) during the end of March. BTVS begins the March after the series ends.
Mein Teil
Chapter 13: Beginning of Summer Part II
In the week following Faith's talk with Giles, she found herself spending a lot of time in the library. In fact she was spending more time at the library then what was healthy for her. It was wrong, so very wrong. Faith was never one for research. She hated the research. Faith was more of an action girl. Sitting around in a musty library was not her idea of a good time. Or a productive time for that matter - at least not for her.
It sucked. Faith knew damn well that this was part of the job description when she signed up for the trip. Hell, she knew that Ron would be with Harry all the time and thus would be the one trying to get him prepared and training, while she would have to concentrate on other things. Faith knew that she would be busy hunting down the Horcruxes, but damn there was a lot of research involved. It was hard, all Faith really wanted to do was to be out there fucking up some Death Eaters. Or hell, she'd be even up to taking on the Big V himself again, even if she did less then a stellar job at it last time. It was the waiting, the sitting that she couldn't deal with.
Just because the research was part of the job did not mean that she had to enjoy it, or be any good at it.
Faith thanked whatever god that was listening that Willow and Buffy were not in London right now. She couldn't imagine the shit that they'd give her when they found out that she had spent a good ten hours a day - every day - this week researching. The worst part was, was the Council library was only the beginning point. She needed to figure out a way to get into the London's Wizarding Library. She had been speaking with her new employer for a way to get her a temporary pass - in the name of hunting down rare artifacts of course. He said that it was a possibility. While he knew that her job was a cover for something else, her boss did not know what. But, he told her as long as she brought him some artifacts that he could actually use, then he didn't care. It wasn't like Faith wasn't going to come across rare artifacts anyway. She had a feeling that she was going to have to actually buy a shit ton of them in her search. It would only be after getting them back to the Council headquarters that she'll be able to figure out if they were indeed the Horcruxes that they were after.
Identifying the damned objects was another big problem. Faith had no fucking idea on how she was supposed to recognize a Horcrux. Hell, she didn't even think Ron knew how to identify one yet. The only person who could probably tell them whether it was, or was not one, was Dumbledore. Her and Ron had just counted on the fact that he would help them in this little matter. Wouldn't they be screwed to high water if their assumption was wrong, or if the old guy croaked? Fuck that would suck. Ron had told her that Dumbledore had died at the end of sixth year and that he was going to save the old man even if it meant killing Draco Malfoy himself.
"Faith?" the slayer in question looked up as a voice broke her out of her thoughts. Dawn stood over her with a puzzled expression on her face. "I didn't know you were in London."
Faith smiled at Dawn, it was good to see the girl looking stress free.
"Yep, here I am," Faith replied. "What are you doing here? Aren't you still in school?"
"I graduated two weeks ago," Dawn replied pulling out a chair next to her and sitting down. "Thank God too. I don't think I could have taken high school any longer."
"Understand you there kid," Faith smiled. Hell Faith fucking dropped out of that hellhole the first chance she got. Now that she thought about it, why the fuck hadn't Giles said something to her. The watcherman didn't seem like the type of guy to encourage high school dropouts. It probably had to do with her status as a slayer. After all, what good was a fucking education when there was a high chance of dieing?
"So, how've you been?" Faith tentatively asked. Pre-apocalypse Faith would have never called Dawn a friend. There was too much baggage between her and Buffy for Faith to even bother trying to befriend the little sister. But after the war had started, they got closer. Talked about shit, bonded or whatever you wanted to call it. Fuck, Faith had even given the girl a bit of advice on how to please her man. So, this was weird. It was like Giles, or Harry or even Hermione. She knew and liked them, but they didn't really even know her.
"Okay, I guess," Dawn looked up from the book she had opened. "And you? I had heard through the grapevine about your breakdown in Cleveland a couple of months ago."
Faith held back a snort. Dawn was never the one to hold back her thoughts. She had about as much tact as Cordelia or Spike. Faith liked that about the girl.
"That I did," Faith replied shaking her head. "But all better now."
"You should have heard Buffy on the subject," Dawn mumbled.
Faith snorted. She really didn't want to know what B thought about her going off the deep end.
Faith looked back down at her book not quite sure what to say next. They spent the next few minutes in silence with the occasional page scrapping to break up the monotony.
"What are you reading?" Dawn asked.
"You know I took another job right?" Faith leaned back in her chair. "After the so called breakdown, I needed some time off of the slayer shit."
"Really? I hadn't heard that."
"Yeah, well anyway - I'm working for one of the Council's other company's doing Indiana Jones type work. Looking for mystical objects and breaking into whatever magical, or demonic traps that are guarding them."
Dawn looked baffled. She opened her mouth to say something but all that came out was a soft, "Oh."
"Surprised?"
"Um, yeah you could say that," Dawn looked over at the book she was reading. "I guess I never really saw you as a research girl."
"Me neither."
Dawn looked lost in thought and Faith went back to flipping through her book. It was on famous wizards through the ages. Faith had been looking for possible objects that might be Horcruxes, no surprise there.
"Working on college stuff?" Faith asked then proceeded to shut her book loudly. Yeah - Faith should be researching but she just couldn't do it anymore today. It was time for a break and Dawn provided the excuse that Faith needed.
Dawn had gone to Oxford originally, so it was a good guess that Dawn had done some sort of preparation the summer before.
"Um, no," Dawn said looking back up. "Just a side project that I'm interested in."
Dawn didn't elaborate and Faith got the impression that she didn't want to talk anymore on the subject. Faith let her mouth snap shut with a soft sigh…there goes her excuse to take a break. Fuck, she hated research.
-oOo-
It was cold.
Not that he would have ever considered Malfoy Manor a warm place; not even after he had spent most of his life growing up in it. But it was a different type of chill than normal. What little solidity and routine that had been in the manor seemed to have disappeared now that his father was no longer around. While Draco would have never described his father as a stable man, he was the rock of the Malfoy name. Because of him they had survived and flourished where so many of the other Dark Lord supporters had failed.
But now, his father was no longer here to protect his mother. That job had been left to Draco, the newly appointed head of the family since his father's death. Draco closed his eyes, not wanting to remember the lessons from his father preparing him for this day.
Draco was ready for it. He was ready to pick up and lead the Malfoy name into the glory that it so deserved. Those lessons had made him strong. After all this time, he would finally make his father proud.
But then again, why won't his stomach stop churning circles?
Stupid thoughts, stupid cold.
Draco Malfoy pulled his robe closer around him in an effort to halt the unwanted doubts that threatened to waver his determination.
He opened his eyes and took in the sight before him in the mirror.
"Draco," a soft voice came from the hall followed by a knock.
"Come in mother," he replied before turning his attention back to the mirror.
Draco was dressed in black for the evening. His blond hair slicked back and neatly styled for the night's upcoming events. While the image that stared back at him was well put together, he still frowned. Even after all of the grooming, he still looked like a child. He looked far from the image that the head of the Malfoy family needed to portray.
It was the hair.
Most certainly the hair.
It was customary that the head of the Malfoy family wore his hair long; a symbol of power and wealth. His father had worn it long, as his grandfather and his father before him. Generations of Malfoy's had worn their hair long.
And here Draco Malfoy was, the most important meeting of his life ahead of him in a few short hours and he couldn't even get his hair right.
Fantastic, just bloody fantastic.
"I don't see why we can't just use a hair lengthening spell," Draco half mumbled to his mother approaching from behind him.
"You know perfectly well why we cannot. It is tradition for the hair to be grown, earned if you may," she replied.
Draco tried not to huff, "That's ridiculous. Father had years to grow it in preparation; it was already to his shoulders by the time Grandfather had died. I've only had the span of a few weeks."
Narcissa stopped next to him. He had already outgrown her at five seven and would soon be even taller. She wore a fine dress of black and silver.
"No one expects it to be long," she said.
Draco wished that was the case, but knew that it was not. He resisted the urge to complain some more; if he ignored the hair then he supposed that he looked presentable.
"Draco," his mother began as she took a moment to flatten the cuff on his robe, "I just wanted to let you know that your father –"
"I would rather not talk about Father right now."
Narcissa withdrew her hand at his sharp voice.
Father. He had just managed to put that man out of his mind and here she was, dragging him up again.
That word, Father, conjured too many thoughts up into his mind.
Draco clenched his fists tight enough that he could feel his short nails dig into the palm of his hand. He was not going to think about his father now. His head needed to be clear, and just the mere mention of him caused anger to flood into his system. Any thoughts about Father would just take his focus away from the important task at hand. And Draco couldn't allow his calm facade to be shaken anymore then it already was tonight.
"The guests will be arriving in a half hour," his mother said as she turned to leave. "Keep in mind our earlier conversation about how to handle yourself tonight. I have faith that you will do well."
With those final words she left him alone with his thoughts.
Draco's gaze drifted back to the mirror and he inadvertently let out a breath that he hadn't realized that he had been holding. He was glad that she had left. Draco knew very well what was at stake tonight and did not need her constant reminders on the subject. She had lectured him about it all day yesterday and then continued to droll on some more during breakfast and lunch.
Make sure to be proud, but not too proud.
Make sure to listen and to do as you're told.
Make sure to answer all questions asked of you but don't give too much away.
Make sure to wait until you are called to be seen.
Merlin, he was never going to get her trite lectures on the subject out of his head.
It wasn't long before a house elf appeared and announced that the first guests had arrived. Draco tried not to frown. It looked like it was now or never. Part of him preferred never, but it he doubted that excuse would go over well. Ten minutes, that was almost certainly the amount of time he had left before he descended the stairs.
Those remaining minutes passed in a blur until he found himself standing quietly outside the double doors to a large study that his father had kept. Technically, the room was his now. The entire house was his now. He held out a fist to knock, but let it fall to his side before it touched the wood. It's his house; he does not have to knock within his own bloody house.
Draco lightly pushed the doors open, the hinges creaking just enough to let everyone know that he was entering. He kept his head held high as he entered and got the first glance at the ceremony before him.
His guests mulled about, slightly turning in his direction as he walked through the large oak doors. He paused a moment to look around. The crowd was small, only seven people stood about the room in the masks and garb that he would soon be darning as well. Draco took a deep breath and continued forward.
His footsteps echoed across the polished wood floor until he reached the plush rug. The guest's voices dropped into murmurs as he walked to the center of the room. He could tell just from the decreased volume that it was not pleasant things that were being said. Draco frowned; he did not like the Malfoy name to be the center of such demeaning conversations. If it had been his father entering the room, they wouldn't dare whisper as they were doing so now. No one treated a Malfoy like that and in time, Draco would make them remember that he was a Malfoy as well.
Draco eyed the others in the room, staring at them with an indifferent mask. While their whispers bothered him, he would not show it. Four of the Death Eaters wore their skull masks, but the other three shown their faces in all of their glory.
Of course Bellatrix was there and maskless tonight. Draco would wager that even on raids she doesn't wear her mask. While aunt Bella often had entertaining stories to tell, she definitely was off her rocker. Draco wondered if his father would have worn a mask or if he would have been brazen enough to go without.
He noticed that his mother was nowhere to be seen in the room. It didn't surprise him though; no matter how much she would have fought to be along for this meeting, there was no way that she could have gotten in. Only Death Eaters of the Dark Lord's inner circle were present tonight, well the ones who weren't currently in Azkaban.
Draco briefly wondered who the others were underneath their masks but let the thought escape his mind. There was no point in being curious; he was not going to find the answer out anytime soon. One man only knew all of the members of the Inner Circle, and that was the Dark Lord. Draco doubted that even Bella was privileged enough to know who all of the members were.
"Awe, Mr. Malfoy," a high pitch voice spoke causing the others to go instantly silent. Speak of the devil and he shall arrive. "So glad of you to join us."
Draco approached the large chair where the voice was certainly coming from. The chair was facing towards the fireplace. He could see a pale bony hand resting on the arm. A brief glimpse of who was on the other side; not that Draco didn't already know. He approached at a relaxed, confident pace not wanting to let his unease show through. His hands were shaking and he silently pleaded that it would escape the Dark Lord's notice. Malfoy's are not uneasy, he could hear Father's voice say, we are confident and sure of ourselves in everything that we do. Draco took a deep breath and slowly made his way around to the front of the chair. Unfortunately, the deep breath did not do anything to ease his nerves.
"The pleasure is all mine, my Lord," he responded. "I am glad to be of service."
Draco fell to his knees without being asked.
Make sure you kneel in proper respect, his mother's lecture sprang back into his mind. Don't make him ask.
As if Draco didn't already know that; he did not need a reminder, even from his own head.
He could hear footsteps approach to his right. From the corner of his eyes he could see a black pair of pointed heels come to a stop. He recognized them as belonging to Bellatrix.
"Rise."
Draco hesitated for a moment unsure if the Dark Lord was speaking to him. He tentatively rose to his feet but kept his gaze focused downward. Don't meet his eyes, this time it was Snape's voice that ran through his head. It will only be considered a challenge, keep your gaze firmly planted on his feet or not on him at all.
"I can't say just how excited I am that you are prepared to follow in your father's footsteps and join my ranks Draco," the Dark Lord drawled. "However, your father had left my services greatly indebted to me."
Draco made sure that he kept his eyes focused on the Dark Lord's feet and his head bowed. He resisted the urge to swallow and tried to calm his almost frantic heartbeat. Oh Draco had a feeling that something like this was coming, but there wasn't much he could do in preparation.
"My Bella has shared some interesting insight on the events that occurred last week at the Department of Mysteries," the Dark Lord said waving his hand at the large shimmering bowl that Draco only just noticed was there. The pensive practically loamed before him. Draco wasn't especially keen on seeing what had happened during that night a week ago. He had not been privileged to the details of what had transpired, only knowing that his father was there on orders from the Dark Lord. Draco's knowledge only came from what rumors he had heard and what he could piece together from his own memories of the day. He would no doubt be seeing his father's last moment of life.
By the slight gesture that the Dark Lord made, Draco had the feeling that it would only be the two of them watching the events. He watched as the Dark Lord placed a single finger into the substance; apparently, that was enough to transfer him into the pensive.
Despite the sickening in his stomach, Draco dipped a finger as well into shimmering liquid wondering why the Dark Lord wanted him to watch this in the first place.
He watched as the Death Eaters got a drop on Harry and his merry mini band of misfits. It was the same group with Harry that Draco had confronted on the steps of Hogwarts earlier that day. Granger and Weasley were there (which wasn't much of a surprise) and so was Weasley's sister, Loony Lovegood, Longbottum and lastly, there was that beautiful bird that he didn't recognize. Draco knew that she wasn't a student but hadn't the foggiest clue as to whom she could be.
Draco watched and tried to keep his eyes firmly on the scene as his father allowed the children to escape. The mistakes that were made were almost painful to watch. Draco wasn't the only one who thought that way either. He could practically feel the cold anger roll off of the Dark Lord making him grateful that he was not there to witness the events first hand. Draco watched as Bella exchanged some words with his father. He had shouted at her to follow the children and to bring back the prophecy.
The image of his father faded as Draco was forced to follow Bella as she chased down and fought with the male Weasley.
Draco watched the rest of the memory in a sort of a daze. It was clear that Lucius never came out of the hall of prophecies. The hall was where his father's body had been found; he had bleed to death on the cold marble floor. The only Death Eater dead while the others had either been sent to Azkaban or escaped. It seemed unjust that his father had to die when there were so many more incompetent people who should have been the ones to perish.
Draco really did not care about what happened that night from this point forward. The Death Eaters had lost and his father had died, and that was all that truly mattered to Draco. He tried to show interest when Ron summoned Neville away from Bella and then continued to fight her. A forced smile appeared on his face when Neville fell to a curse in a pool of blood. Then Draco tried to look interested when Bella killed her worthless cousin.
By the time the memory was finished, Draco found himself back with the Dark Lord in the parlor. The question of what the Dark Lord wanted to accomplish by making Draco watch the events was fresh on his mind. Perhaps he wanted to unsettle Draco or impress onto him the mistakes that his father had made? It wouldn't surprise Draco if he were held accountable for his father's failures.
"As I said my Lord," Bella practically exclaimed upon his exiting. Her voice had a hint of desperation laced into it. "It is not my fault. Lucius should have -"
"Now Bella," the Dark Lord chided. "Despite Lucius' failures, they can hardly compare to the fact that my Death Eaters were defeated by mere school children."
No one dared to speak. Bella's mouth clamped shut and Draco secretly hoped that she would be punished for her words. Draco couldn't help but agree with the Dark Lord about that. It was embarrassing. All those Death Eaters against six Hogwarts students and one unknown…it was down right laughable.
"If I may speak my Lord," one of the Death Eaters hesitantly suggested. His voice sounded familiar to Draco but he couldn't place it. It had almost a soft - unnatural quality to it, but perhaps that was just because of the mask. Draco never particularly liked those ugly things. He had never been good at identifying Father's fellow Death Eaters by voice alone. Scratch that, they were now his fellow Death Eaters. "I was not present that night, however Bellatrix's memories does give us some interesting insight."
The Dark Lord nodded slightly, indicating that the man should continue with his words. The Death Eaters in the room must have already watched the events in the pensive before Draco had entered. There was a slight smile on the Dark Lord, as if he had already seen what Bella had missed. It was as if he already knew what his Death Eater was going to say.
The Death Eater walked closer to the pensive and skimmed the very tip of his gloved fingers across the liquid. He swirled his fingers around calling forth a single image. Draco started a bit, he was not aware that that could even be done.
The image stopped on the unknown woman that was with them. Her face bloody and bruised as she watched from beside Harry the fight between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. He snaked his finger downward, as if he was stroking the woman's check. Even though he was wearing a mask, Draco was almost sure that there was a smile on his face.
"As I am sure that you are already most aware," he began, "she is not a witch."
Draco looked closer at the image trying to recall his own meeting with the girl. True, he had confiscated a wand from her hand, but that hardly meant anything.
"Why do you say that?" Bellatrix asked mirroring what was on Draco's mind. He was glad though that he had not been the one to ask it.
"In the entire battle she never once used her wand. In fact, she never used any magic at all," the Dark Lord answered. "Bella, I'm disappointed that you hadn't noticed. That none of you had noticed."
Bella's face went scarlet and she looked back at the image of the girl.
"Well, what is she then?" Bellatrix asked loudly. "Not a Muggle that's quite certain."
She sneered through the word Muggle making Draco think of his father.
"No not a Muggle," the unknown Death Eater affirmed. "The girl is far too resilient to be a Muggle. Perhaps she is another sort of creature; a werewolf or some other type of half demon? A mere human should not be conscious after being thrown about the room like that."
Draco pressed his lips together, wondering whether he should speak up.
"I saw her leave the school with Potter around four-thirty, five o'clock," Draco said. "I saw her again that evening speaking with Dumbledore in his office…. My Lord."
Draco almost forgot to put that title in there.
"Severus had mentioned seeing her as well," the Dark Lord said. "It appears that Dumbledore is reaching out for allies in uncharted territory for the Light. Have you seen her anywhere else around Hogwarts lately?"
"No," Draco answered glance back to the pensive. The Death Eater who seemed to have a bit of brains had reversed the pensive to the fight that took place in the room with the arch. Draco watched with a small frown on his face as the woman bounded down the stairs to Weasley's side. Weasley had just taken quite the hex that left him slumped in an unconscious heap. Draco didn't want to admit it, but he was quite impressed by some of those curses that Weasley had been throwing around. Come to think of it, Draco wasn't even sure what curses Weasley had been throwing around.
"Can you rewind that back a few minutes?" Draco asked before realizing what just spouted out of his mouth. Perhaps drawing attention to himself while so close to the Dark Lord was not the best of plans.
Draco didn't look up but could feel his eyes on him. Instead he watched the gloved hand dip into the pensive and swirl the liquid around. Draco was half tempted to ask the unknown Death Eater to show him that little trick but that would have been stupid of him.
Draco couldn't help the look of confusion that came over his disciplined features as he watched Weasley fight along side Neville and Potter.
Potter was casting spells that were familiar, although some of them were rather creative in their usage while Neville was basically useless as he was having no luck getting spells to be effective out of his wand. The tosser probably wasn't even using his own wand. But Weasley looked very different from the other two boys. When had Draco been sucked into wonky world? Ron was actually putting up a hell of a fight.
Harry almost screamed out the name of every spell that he was casting, a clear testament that he had a long way to go in silent spell work, but Ron appeared to have already mastered the subject. Every once in awhile, a spell would be uttered by his lips, but more often then not - he just flicked his wand in the correct motion and it would shot out of the tip.
The spells that Ron had been casting were of a wide variety; in fact they ranged from simple to complex. From recognizable cutting hexes to a bright yellow spell that Draco was fairly certain that Bella fondly called the eye scrambler. Seeing a spell that melted people's eyeballs come from Weasley's wand was troubling to say the least. They had gotten in quite a few schoolyard spats over the years, but thankfully, the hotheaded simpleton had never thrown anything like that at him. In fact, his spells had often been half-arsed and so full of anger that they barely did as they were commanded.
Draco shifted, thinking back to the night in March at the hospital wing. Something was not right with Weasley that night either. Draco had been fighting the pauper long enough to know how he acted and when something was amiss.
"What is it that you see, Draco?" the Dark Lord's voice cut through his thoughts. "Perhaps you do recognize the woman?"
Draco swallowed, unsure if he wanted to answer.
You are our families protector now, he heard his mother saying. You have to be strong. You have to be smart and it is time for you to officially leave behind the boy you were and become an adult. You are the head of the Malfoy family now and with that comes all of the responsibility of our honor and wealth. Difficult times lie ahead of you, so you must be ready. Use your head. Plan. Be conscious of the times when you need to give information and when to keep silent. Use you mind, be cunning and we will survive this upcoming war - emerging from it far stronger then when we were when we entered.
"It's not that my Lord," Draco replied looking away from the pensive. His next words halted at his lips, unsure if he would benefit more from the truth or a lie…He almost snorted to himself, like he could even lie to the Dark Lord and get away with it. "It is Weasley. He has changed."
"Weasley," the Dark Lord repeated looking into the pensive. Draco had the feeling that the Dark Lord had never given a second thought to Potter's friends. In fact, Draco would be surprised if he even knew their names. Draco wasn't sure where Potter and his friends stood in the grand scheme of things. After all, they were hardly a threat; perhaps more of a mere annoyance - like a fly on the wall. Draco had always considered Potter more of a lucky mascot of all that was good and such trite. Someone who was not to be taken seriously and only sought after by the Dark Lord due to the fact that Potter's death would crush the hope of Muggle loving fools everywhere.
Perhaps, there was something more to Potter after all - especially if there was some sort of prophecy involving the retard.
The Dark Lords' words pulled Draco away from his thoughts. "Ah yes, the son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Ronald, I believe his name is. I had heard that him and Potter were friends."
The Dark Lord sneered the last word as if it was foul tasting on his tongue. With a flick of his wrist the scene played over again. The Dark Lord watched silently only to rewind it a second time and watch it over.
Draco pressed his lips together as he watched the Dark Lord rewind the image a third time. He was unsure if saying anything in the first place had been a wise decision. While he wasn't fond of Weasley in any shape or form, he still felt like he had signed the tosser's death warrant.
Draco was vaguely aware that his hands were still slightly shaking.
-oOo-
Fingers ghosted over her body; tickling the hairs on her skin making them stand on end. Her entire body felt hyperactive, amplifying the simplest touch to the point where she was almost shaking all over. An uncontrollable moan escaped from her lips. It was loud and obscene and almost certainly heard by those bunking in the same building.
Lips pressed against her skin almost as if reacting to her unconscious desire to want more. They lingered on her collarbone, stimulating her nerves with light pressure and tender kisses. Moving lower they nipped at her breasts. His lips, already familiar with the curve of her body, knew where to linger to cause the most pleasure. Another moan was ripped out of her as he lightly bit down on the sensitive spot underneath her right nipple.
Her hands wove themselves into his hair, urging him to continue in his escapades.
His hand that had been tracing patterns on her stomach continued lower. Her legs opened wider and she couldn't help arching her back as he caressed her inner thigh.
And then his lips were back on hers. The pressure was light with the first few kisses lingering as if he was tasting her. The kisses quickly deepened with need. She responded with just as much fervor as he.
The shift in his weight was all the indication she received before he entered her.
From that point on she was lost in pleasure. Her body responding to his motions on instinct.
A loud crash jerked her to her senses and light flooded the room. Muffled curses could be heard as Dawn slowly opened her eyes.
Her dream - the kisses and sensations of him fresh on her mind.
She sat up slowly realizing that she had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room with an open book in her lap. Dawn looked around in her almost drunken lust filled haze trying to figure what had woken up. By the front door stood Buffy with a knocked over decorative table and a shattered lamp. Her sister was grumbling as she picked up the shattered pieces of glass and tossed them into the garbage near by.
"You're home?" Dawn half questioned, half stated as she watched Buffy. She glanced at the clock to see that it was almost two-thirty in the morning.
"Dawn!" Buffy smiled and dropped the large piece of lamp that she was holding, shattering it further. She gave Dawn a good look over before saying, "Did I wake you?"
"Yeah," Dawn replied. "But it doesn't matter, I should be sleeping in my bed anyway. How was Berlin?"
"A mess," Buffy sighed. "Don't worry, you'll hear all about it tomorrow as I'm sure the day will be full of meetings and gossip about said meetings."
Buffy gave the mess on the floor a tired look before getting back up to her feet.
"I'll deal with it later," she said making her way to the armchair across from Dawn. "Just be careful where you walk in the morning."
Dawn nodded taking in her sister's appearance. The rumpled cloths and worn look on her face told Dawn that it had been a very long week in Berlin.
"Go to bed," Dawn said - or more like ordered as she decided to take her own advice. "We'll do the sister thing after you've rested a bit."
Dawn got up from the couch and grabbed her book. Buffy smiled and closed her eyes, pretty much agreeing with Dawn's statement without needing to say a word. She left her sister and entered her bedroom. Closing the door, she made her way to the window and opened it.
The cool breeze rushed in to meet her face and Dawn let out a long exhale.
She wasn't sure if she was grateful or annoyed that Buffy interrupted the dream when she did. Dawn needed to take a shower, a really cold - unsexy shower. Closing her eyes, she told herself that she needed to forget the lingering kisses and the wandering hands. Dawn willed herself to forget the feeling of what it felt like to have him inside her and the pleasure that filled her senses.
But that was the problem. Dawn might have been able to forget the first dream months ago in April. Hell she might have even been able to forget the second dream that came only a week after the first. But considering this is the fourth time that she has dreamt about her illusive Romeo, she had a feeling that she wouldn't forget about him anytime soon.
Dawn leaned further onto the windowsill and looked up into the night's sky.
While Dawn wouldn't say that the dreams about sex were troubling, she would say that the other strange dreams that started around the same time were. These dreams were often filled with people that she knew (like Buffy, Willow or Faith) but also some that she didn't know at all. He would often be in them as well. Sometimes they would be about death and destruction. Other times they were about random everyday occurrences that happen in life. Meetings and laughing, family and friends. And sex, one cannot forget the dreams about the mind-blowing sex (especially since Dawn was currently a virgin - something that she needed to rectify as soon as possible after dreaming about it in extreme detail).
Dawn had no idea what was going on. Part of her, deep down was sure that she was not going crazy. It was an all-consuming knowledge. One that she didn't doubt for a second. But just because Dawn believed that there was some truth to what she was dreaming, didn't mean she knew what was going on. Could it be that she was dreaming of the future, or perhaps of another dimension? Perhaps she could be dreaming about what could be if certain events were to come to pass? Or maybe she just had a really vivid imagination? The more she had her bizarre dreams, the clearer the picture was starting to become. Problem was that Dawn really didn't like the end picture that was beginning to form.
So Dawn did what she did best in these situations, she researched. She would find her answer to what the hell was going on - even if it killed her.