Here you go! The next chapter or so... I have a lot in my head that I want to get out, but it's fighting with me every step of the way. The end is sooooo close! Yet so very far away. My GOAL is to be done before the end of the year, but we all know how realistic that goal is... Here's hoping. Anyway, enjoy!


As the rest of the group stumbled in, around the crack of dawn, both Buffy and Tonks looked over with winces.

"It looks like we got the bargain tonight," Buffy muttered taking a sip of hot chocolate. Tonks nodded agreement as Harry sloshed in, covered in blue goo.

"This is ridiculous!" he protested, both Ron and Hermione were trying not to laugh at him. Not only because they were conspicuously clean, but he smelled down right horrible!

"Well, it's not our fault…" Hermione started out, but Harry growled at her.

"It IS your fault!"

"Hey! I just tried to clean you up! It's not MY fault that their blood multiplies when exposed to a direct magic source!" Buffy and Tonks bit their lips, trying not to laugh at Harry's downright murderous glare.

"I'm taking a shower." He muttered, turned on his heel, slipped a bit on the slime that had plopped onto the floor, straightened himself out and stomped away. It was a good thing that all the floors until the bedrooms themselves were tile and wood.

As soon as he was gone the entire first floor burst into hysterical laughter.


By the time Harry cleaned up and crashed into bed Xander had woken up and started breakfast. Slayers that had been at the warehouse were reporting to Buffy, the Slayers who had school were out the door, and the wizards were safely ensconced in the basement, sleeping.

So when the telephone rang, Xander answered as he stood at the kitchen counter, whisking eggs in a metallic bowl. Buffy wandered in as he was nodding, with slight, "Uh-huh, Uh-huh…" coming from his mouth. "Well, I'm cooking, so I'll let you go… and yes, she's right here… uh-huh… well you can talk to her now or you can wait for my desiccated corpse to pick you up from the airport… that's what I thought… Hey, Buff, your sister's not funny at all and you can tell her I said so." With a squeal Buffy jumped up and grabbed the phone from Xander's ear/shoulder hold.

While Buffy talked to Dawn, Xander fried up the scrambled egg and fed the Slayerettes that had just come in from patrol or had been part of the assault teams on the warehouse, before they went to bed.

"Dawn said that the term usage was wrong, she was just correcting you, it wasn't meant to be funny…" Buffy smirked as she hung up the phone.

"But it was." They finished the younger girls comment together; it was so often used, with slight smirks.

"Yeah Buffy, I know desiccated means dried out, and yes, I wouldn't be an old corpse, I'd be a fresh drippy, icky corpse… but still." He rolled his eye. He loved playing big brother to Dawn. It fit rather well.

"So, tomorrow at seven then?"

"We'll see the Dawnster tomorrow at seven pm, come rain or shine." Xander peaked out at the clouds gathering in the sky. "Most likely rain."

"How do you think they'll all get along?" Buffy asked, more absently than anything. Xander knew she was talking about the wizards, but shrugged. He might be the seer of their group, but he had no clue what to expect. They hadn't told Harry and his friends about the Key, and he was more than a little curious.

Would they sense something off about his Dawn Patrol? Would Dawn sense something odd about their wizard friends? He hoped they would get along, mostly for Dawn's sake, because she seemed so alone sometimes and he got the feeling that she might need someone who could protect her and still let her be herself, be a good friend instead of a sister or a student. He loved Dawnie with all his heart, and he knew the feelings were the same from her, but there was something off. He mused in his head, if she and Harry hit it off like he thought they would, like he could almost see, Buffy might just about flip.


"So you think… like this?" Harry was chatting with Hermione in the library, leaning over her shoulder and pointing something out in the book she was reading. She turned her head to smile brilliantly at him, their noses almost touching.

"Exactly, Harry, you've been paying attention!" Ron smirked as he watched them throw theories all over the place, often placing hands intimately on hips to move the other, or leaving a slight peck on the cheek when they got excited about some intricate point or other. It was a good thing he was secure in the relationship he had with Hermione, and that he could recognize now, what he missed when they were teenagers, that as only children Harry and Hermione had somehow become siblings. Of course he wouldn't act that way with his own sister, it would be too creepy, but for his fiancé and his best friend, it just seemed to work.

It was pretty much what made them Gryffindor's "Golden Trio". Oh, and how Harry blushed whenever they were called such, he hated the fame that surrounded his name, and the fact that there were all sorts of monikers that described him and his friends seemed to only make him fluster further. In fact, it got to the point where Harry had started to wear disguises every time he'd left Grimmauld Place. Unfortunately that meant he and Hermione had to wear disguises every time they wanted to see their friend. It was ridiculous, and such a problem that Ron figured Harry might never step inside Great Britain again, now that he'd traveled the world and not been mobbed everywhere he went.

Ron paused in his deliberations when he realized his thoughts were jumping all over the place, and then let them linger on the amount of skin he could see of Hermione's thigh. She was wearing a skirt again today, similar to her old school skirts… he praised whoever made those skirts the uniform on almost a daily basis back when they were still students.

"Ron…" he heard briefly, but only smiled a bit in response. "Ronald? Are you listening to me?"

"Hermione, leave the man alone, can't you see he's in his happy place?" Harry muttered after pulling an old book off the shelves and flipping to a section in the middle. He smirked at Hermione as she huffed indignantly.

"Why does he smirk like that all the time?" she asked Harry. Harry, for his part, just shook his head. Hermione knew why, she just liked complaining about it. She felt sexy whenever Ron looked at her like that. She blushed just the slightest bit at Harry's chuckle and went back to shelving the books they didn't need.


Dawn, for the most part, was the eye of the storm. While her little Slayers ran around to prepare for their night patrols, she sat at the table and made sure that all her contact information was written out and placed next to the phone. She briefly explained, once again, to Nimue and Stacy that Patty was in charge, and yes, they had to pay attention to her and do as she said. It was about staying safe, and learning how to lead, or how to follow, and it was a lesson they all needed to take to heart. They nodded, not angry, just not completely happy. That too was a lesson. They couldn't have things their way all the time, and they weren't always going to be in charge. Of course, if they had problems they could always call her, but she would refuse to listen to a petty squabble. She stressed that she was not going on vacation, she was helping Xander, and they would not interrupt her for something trivial. On pain of no ice cream.

Death threats rarely worked on Slayers, but she'd found that since she had control of the purse strings, if she refused to purchase something, like ice cream or coffee, until they figured out their own idiocy… well, it helped speed things up. They were teenagers after all.

So when the cab pulled up to the house she made sure to hug each girl, reminded them to be good, and that she was proud of them. Positive reinforcement was always of the good.

And when the cab pulled away from Casa De' Slayer, she finally sighed in relief. It wasn't that she didn't like being hen mother to the slayerettes, but she was finally ready for something else; something that had nothing to do with her sister's calling. She'd find something while she was away… she just knew it.


Xander was meditating in the basement, breathing in, breathing out, faintly sensing the difference in the scent as someone sat cross legged on the floor in front of him and joined him. Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, the scent of oranges and something dry like wood. Breathing out. His head swum around, he was determined to ignore it… but that cackling in his head, Bouda, seemed to think that the smell was something he should pay attention to. So he opened his eye, and just watched Ginny as she breathed in, let it out, and smiled.

"I can feel you watching me," she smiled, her eyes still closed.

"Really?" He scooted forward until their knees touched.

"I grew up with six brothers… I know when I'm being watched."

Xander had to be impressed, "Six?"

"All of them older, and very protective of the sister," her eyes opened and pinned him under their amused glare. "And her virtue."

"Really? And how does that work?" Xander had to ask.

"We put a bell on it," Ron's voice came from the hallway, dry, but entertained. "She's too charming for her own damn good."

"And you wouldn't have me any other way, brother-mine."

"Like hell." Ron managed to hold back any intent until he was right behind her, then lunged. Xander watched in fascination as the two youngest Weasley's began wrestling. In almost no time, it seemed, Ron had Ginny in an impressive hold, legs pinning legs, arms wrapped around her elbows. Then Ginny wiggled a bit and shot her hand out, tickling Ron's side until he lost concentration and let go. She rolled away and sat up, panting, then smirked and shot her hand out, like she was pushing him from across the room. Ron stumbled and fell down, only to complain loudly as he found he couldn't move.

"No fair!" he protested. "No wandless magic in wrestling matches!"

"But you're bigger than me!" Ginny argued, then turned puppy eyes on Xander. "You agree with me, right Xander? A girl should use every advantage she's got."

"Yup," Xander agreed with a grin.

"Traitor," Ron muttered as Ginny let him back up.

"Hey, Ron, I train girls to do stuff like that," he pointed out. "Pretty, adorable, Truck bench-pressing, girls."

"Point," Ron nodded, then looked over at Ginny as if something profound just occurred to him. "Thank Merlin you're not a Slayer."