Title: Black As Midnight
Author: eena_angel2001
Email: igrewal@sfu.ca or eena_angel@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Category: HP/BTVS/ATS
Pairing: Willow/Oliver Wood, Dawn/Draco, others undetermined.
Disclaimer: Rowlings owns HP. Whedon owns BTVS.
Spoilers: Up to Season Seven for BTVS, but before Willow comes back. GOF for HP.
Summary: A new evil rises, transcending the line between Muggle and Wizarding Worlds, and forcing our heroes to join if they wish to survive.
Notes: This is an AU Season Seven fic.
1) Willow did not kill Warren, though Tara did die and she did go to England with Giles. Warren is dead for this fic, but I'm still working out how.
2) Fred and Gunn never dated in this fic.
Part Three
***Los Angeles, USA***
Faith bit back a snarl, resisting the urge to slam the guard escorting her into the wall very hard. He was disgusting, looking her up and down with this look in his eye. Little did he know, the second he acted on that look, she would castrate him. By hand.
Instead of acting on that, the brunette Slayer bit her tongue, allowing herself to be dragged to the visiting room by the man. No unnecessary violence for this girl. If he wanted to risk it by trying anything, then all bets were off. But until then, she was Restraint Girl.
B would be so proud.
The thought of her counterpart made her grimace. The dreams had picked up in the last few weeks and she had the sneaking suspicion that this visit had something to do with it. The only person who ever visited her was Angel, and it was broad daylight right now. No way would the vampire be out to see her now. So that begged the question: who the hell had come to visit her?
She hoped it wasn't a Watcher. Or anyone that used to be a Watcher. Those guys were really down on her like all the time. Besides, she doubted one would come to visit her anyway. They would rather sneak in here at the dead of the night and kill her. But then again, since her conviction, they seemed content to let the penal system take care of her.
She waited by the door while the guard pushed it open. Once in the doorway, he motioned for her hands to come up. He secured the cuffs, giving her another leer. With her hands up and ready, Faith barely resisted the urge to clock the man. But she figured she might as well see her visitor first and deal with pervert guy later.
Making her way to the booth, Faith was confused to see a slight brunette waiting for her. The girl was frail-looking, thin as a stick, with long wavy brown hair, and large innocent brown eyes. She was obviously nervous, twitching in her seat as she regarded all those around her with wide eyes.
Faith took her seat, tapping on the glass to get her attention. The girl snapped to attention, eyes widening even further to see Faith there. Something seemed oddly familiar about the girl, though Faith wasn't sure what exactly. She motioned for the phone, which the girl reached for with shaking hands. Faith lifted her receiver, waiting patiently for the girl to start.
She was unprepared for the first words out of her visitor's mouth.
"You feel it too."
There was no need to explain what "it" was. She knew, they both knew what it was. The dreams, the feelings, the overall fear growing day by day. Festering since June and almost to the boiling point now. That non- existent thing hovering over all their heads, making them antsy, paranoid, and worst of all, scared shitless.
"Who are you?" Faith barked into the phone. She knew she probably shouldn't be scowling at the girl. Whoever she was, her nerves looked about shot. Being in the prison was obviously unnerving her, but she was sticking it out. Even though her eyes kept flitting to the exit with obvious desire, she stayed in her seat, defiantly looking back at the Slayer.
"My name is Fred," she introduced herself. "I'm a friend of Angel's."
Faith nodded, remembering the vampire mention the girl a few times. Something about her being in a demon dimension for five years. A dimension that kept humans as slaves and this girl managed to stay a fugitive for the better part of her stay. She had to be one tough bitch to survive something like that.
"What is it?" was her next question. Fred shrugged, looking miserably down at the table top.
"We don't know," she admitted. "I just came to see if you had seen anything and now that I know you have, I'm not sure what we're doing next. We're trying to sort this out, bit by bit, but nothing adds up."
"Because no one knows what the big bad is," Faith finished for her. Fred nodded wordlessly, twitching in her seat once more.
"What do you see?" the girl ventured.
Faith sighed, rubbing her eyes as she thought over the dreams that had been plaguing her for months.
"Recently, I saw this girl being hunted down," the Slayer shrugged. "She was Mid-Eastern, purple shirt, being chased down an alley. Bastards in white masks knifed her. They didn't look like demons, so I didn't think too much of it."
"Humans aren't all that innocent either," Fred reminded her.
"Preaching to the choir honey," Faith laughed. "What do you want from me?"
"How about some caring?" Fred snapped. "You're entirely too laid back about this. Something bad is coming-"
"And it's not my problem anymore," Faith finished for her. "Look honey, even if I wanted to help, I couldn't. I'm in jail. I killed people."
"But what's coming, don't you think you should help?"
"Again, I can't," Faith rolled her eyes. "Sorry, but I'm not one of the good guys anymore. I'm atoning now and some stuff-"
"Well, don't you think being a good guy again counts for atonement?" Fred asked her incredulously. "Have you learned nothing from Angel?"
"Look, honey-"
"No, you look!" Fred looked irritated beyond hell. "You're going to listen to me! There is something out there, and whether you like it or not, it affects you! It is coming for all of us, and it's not planning on making friends. It wants nothing but death and decay. I've seen it, it's soaking down into the earth and making life wither away. And if you think being in this prison means you're safe, you're not only wrong but dumb as hell!"
Faith watched the girl with wide eyes. Gone was the nervous, twitching Fred from before. This Fred was strong and a blaze with fire. Faith was almost frightened and almost swayed.
Almost, but not quite.
"You're barking up the wrong tree," she replied into the phone after a long pause. "I'm sorry, but I can't do anything from here."
"And if you were out of here?" Fred asked. "If all those people you wronged got you out? If Angel asked you to come and help, what would you do Faith?"
Faith paused, thinking it over. She looked up into Fred's wide eyes, feeling a smirk come over her features. There was something stirring in her stomach, something she hadn't felt in a few years. And it felt surprisingly good. She smiled at the girl, tossing her a quick wink.
"If they need me, all they have to do is come and get me."
*****
***Malfoy Manor, England***
He couldn't get any fucking sleep!
Draco Malfoy felt a scowl crease his forehead. He turned in his bed, twisting so his head was underneath his pillow. He pulled it tight over his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force sleep unto himself. But then those images started coming right back and Draco's eyes flew open yet again.
Fuck it. Fuck it all to hell. His mother would kill him if she found out the level of vulgarity he was using, well thinking, right now. But it helped, felt good, was an outlet.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! He gripped his pillow in his hands, hearing the fabric rip as he pulled it apart. Fuck it all!
There, he felt better. Swearing and a little violence were good for a person. They kept a guy sane. He honestly didn't know why his mother was so against either of it. After all, it's not like his family was the nicest one on the block. His father followed the bloody Dark Lord for Merlin's sake. He couldn't figure out why she accepted that but didn't allow her son to vent some times.
Draco brushed a feather away from his face, throwing the remains of his tattered pillow to the floor. He sat upright, glaring at his room in the dark of the night. He really needed to get some sleep tonight. He was heading to Hogwarts in the morning. Another year of having to put up with Potter, Weasley, and that damn Granger. But on the other hand, another year of seeing Snape terrorize all the bloody gits.
That thought cheered him up, though humour fled him quickly. His mind went back to the dreams he had been having over the past few months. They were disturbing to say the least. He had to put up with them all summer long. He didn't dare to tell his parents, fearing his father's scorn for being frightened by some dreams. And if he found out what the dreams were about as well, then he'd have Draco's neck.
After all, what future Death Eater should be put off by some blood and torture?
But that was Draco's problem with it. It wasn't some, it was a lot. And it wasn't adding up to anything good for anyone.
The blonde bit his lip, mulling over the past few months. Stupid dreams. They wouldn't let him have any peace. What should he care about some girls somewhere, being killed one after the other? Why should he care that he felt a fear surrounding people, Muggles and Wizards alike? He knew what it was, or rather who it was. The Dark Lord had returned, Potter had seen him with his own eyes. And as much as he hated Potter, he knew the boy wouldn't make up such a story about Voldemort. That meant it was all real.
He could guess though, from his father's behaviour. Lucius was always off somewhere, skulking about and prying deeper in the Dark Arts than before. His mother was quiet all the time, looking at her husband in more fear than love nowadays. And he knew how she felt. His dad looked downright mad at some points during the summer. Draco was doing everything he could to ignore him. And ignore the blasted dreams.
He didn't care. That's all he had to keep telling himself. It had nothing to do with him. He certainly hadn't shed tears over those girls dying alone, surrounded by those cruel men. No, he hadn't shed a tear. He never once hid wet pillows from his servants and mother, not once. They didn't bother him in the least. None of his business you see.
Yeah right.
Draco sighed again, falling backwards onto his bed. His eyes went to the ceiling, glaring at it viciously. He didn't like these dreams, or these feelings. He wanted them to go away. He didn't want to spend any more nights haunted by the fear in the eyes of all those girls. And he really didn't want to hear that man scream any more.
Draco growled as his thoughts traveled over to the man. He didn't want to think on him, the dreams revolving around him worse than usual. True, he hadn't seen him in a long time, but that didn't make any of the memories any easier to handle. Whoever the man was, he was being tortured horribly. Draco often spent nights with the man's heart-wrenching screams resounding in his head. Those dreams were sure to draw tears from the boy. The pain was just too much! Why couldn't they let him go already? It had been months. Months!
Draco snarled, throwing his covers over his head. He wasn't getting anywhere with all this mess. He just wanted to get some bloody sleep! Was that too much to ask?
He sighed again, settling down into his bed. He stared up at his ceiling until his eyes began to droop. Left with no other choice, the boy fell to sleep and the horrible dreams once more.
*****
***London, England***
*Scratch, scratch, scratch*
Willow frowned, looking up from her computer. That was the second time she had heard that damn noise. She looked around Giles's living room, trying to find the source of the noise.
When she found none, she got to her feet. She wandered out of the room, ears stretched in vain to find the source of the noise. She knew it wasn't Giles. The man was still at the Council's headquarters, desperately trying to track down Quentin Travers. Willow didn't know exactly was happening among the Watchers, but she knew it wasn't anything good.
And she knew that the dark feeling was responsible for it.
*Scratch, scratch*
There it was again! She whirled around, becoming slightly annoyed. The redhead flounced into the entrance hall, skidding to a stop by the staircase. She went stone still, hearing the noises louder than before. She looked over her shoulder, peering at the front door. They were becoming from outside.
Willow narrowed her eyes, stepping back from the staircase slowly. She focused on the door, cautiously moving closer. She opened the peephole, but saw nothing. However, as she got closer to the door, the scratching increased.
She looked about her, eyes falling on an axe in the living room. She ran quickly, scooping up the weapon before running back to the door. She tok a deep breath, unlocking the door and wrenching it open.
Her axe was brought up immediately, though no real threat met her eye. She looked out in the empty night at first, confused until she heard the coughing at her feet. Shocked, she looked down and was horrified by what she saw there.
He was a bloody mess. Clothes torn, shirt nothing more than scraps clinging to his back as a result of all the blood caked there. He was practically sprawled out on Giles's front steps, barely able to raise his fingers to make the scratching noises that dragged her there. There were bruises, cuts, and marks on very piece of skin she could see. He wasn't making any sense, nothing but mumbles coming from his mouth. He looked like a shell of a person, barely recognizable as a man under all that blood and gore.
But she recognized him on sight.
"Spike!"
*****
Author: eena_angel2001
Email: igrewal@sfu.ca or eena_angel@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Category: HP/BTVS/ATS
Pairing: Willow/Oliver Wood, Dawn/Draco, others undetermined.
Disclaimer: Rowlings owns HP. Whedon owns BTVS.
Spoilers: Up to Season Seven for BTVS, but before Willow comes back. GOF for HP.
Summary: A new evil rises, transcending the line between Muggle and Wizarding Worlds, and forcing our heroes to join if they wish to survive.
Notes: This is an AU Season Seven fic.
1) Willow did not kill Warren, though Tara did die and she did go to England with Giles. Warren is dead for this fic, but I'm still working out how.
2) Fred and Gunn never dated in this fic.
Part Three
***Los Angeles, USA***
Faith bit back a snarl, resisting the urge to slam the guard escorting her into the wall very hard. He was disgusting, looking her up and down with this look in his eye. Little did he know, the second he acted on that look, she would castrate him. By hand.
Instead of acting on that, the brunette Slayer bit her tongue, allowing herself to be dragged to the visiting room by the man. No unnecessary violence for this girl. If he wanted to risk it by trying anything, then all bets were off. But until then, she was Restraint Girl.
B would be so proud.
The thought of her counterpart made her grimace. The dreams had picked up in the last few weeks and she had the sneaking suspicion that this visit had something to do with it. The only person who ever visited her was Angel, and it was broad daylight right now. No way would the vampire be out to see her now. So that begged the question: who the hell had come to visit her?
She hoped it wasn't a Watcher. Or anyone that used to be a Watcher. Those guys were really down on her like all the time. Besides, she doubted one would come to visit her anyway. They would rather sneak in here at the dead of the night and kill her. But then again, since her conviction, they seemed content to let the penal system take care of her.
She waited by the door while the guard pushed it open. Once in the doorway, he motioned for her hands to come up. He secured the cuffs, giving her another leer. With her hands up and ready, Faith barely resisted the urge to clock the man. But she figured she might as well see her visitor first and deal with pervert guy later.
Making her way to the booth, Faith was confused to see a slight brunette waiting for her. The girl was frail-looking, thin as a stick, with long wavy brown hair, and large innocent brown eyes. She was obviously nervous, twitching in her seat as she regarded all those around her with wide eyes.
Faith took her seat, tapping on the glass to get her attention. The girl snapped to attention, eyes widening even further to see Faith there. Something seemed oddly familiar about the girl, though Faith wasn't sure what exactly. She motioned for the phone, which the girl reached for with shaking hands. Faith lifted her receiver, waiting patiently for the girl to start.
She was unprepared for the first words out of her visitor's mouth.
"You feel it too."
There was no need to explain what "it" was. She knew, they both knew what it was. The dreams, the feelings, the overall fear growing day by day. Festering since June and almost to the boiling point now. That non- existent thing hovering over all their heads, making them antsy, paranoid, and worst of all, scared shitless.
"Who are you?" Faith barked into the phone. She knew she probably shouldn't be scowling at the girl. Whoever she was, her nerves looked about shot. Being in the prison was obviously unnerving her, but she was sticking it out. Even though her eyes kept flitting to the exit with obvious desire, she stayed in her seat, defiantly looking back at the Slayer.
"My name is Fred," she introduced herself. "I'm a friend of Angel's."
Faith nodded, remembering the vampire mention the girl a few times. Something about her being in a demon dimension for five years. A dimension that kept humans as slaves and this girl managed to stay a fugitive for the better part of her stay. She had to be one tough bitch to survive something like that.
"What is it?" was her next question. Fred shrugged, looking miserably down at the table top.
"We don't know," she admitted. "I just came to see if you had seen anything and now that I know you have, I'm not sure what we're doing next. We're trying to sort this out, bit by bit, but nothing adds up."
"Because no one knows what the big bad is," Faith finished for her. Fred nodded wordlessly, twitching in her seat once more.
"What do you see?" the girl ventured.
Faith sighed, rubbing her eyes as she thought over the dreams that had been plaguing her for months.
"Recently, I saw this girl being hunted down," the Slayer shrugged. "She was Mid-Eastern, purple shirt, being chased down an alley. Bastards in white masks knifed her. They didn't look like demons, so I didn't think too much of it."
"Humans aren't all that innocent either," Fred reminded her.
"Preaching to the choir honey," Faith laughed. "What do you want from me?"
"How about some caring?" Fred snapped. "You're entirely too laid back about this. Something bad is coming-"
"And it's not my problem anymore," Faith finished for her. "Look honey, even if I wanted to help, I couldn't. I'm in jail. I killed people."
"But what's coming, don't you think you should help?"
"Again, I can't," Faith rolled her eyes. "Sorry, but I'm not one of the good guys anymore. I'm atoning now and some stuff-"
"Well, don't you think being a good guy again counts for atonement?" Fred asked her incredulously. "Have you learned nothing from Angel?"
"Look, honey-"
"No, you look!" Fred looked irritated beyond hell. "You're going to listen to me! There is something out there, and whether you like it or not, it affects you! It is coming for all of us, and it's not planning on making friends. It wants nothing but death and decay. I've seen it, it's soaking down into the earth and making life wither away. And if you think being in this prison means you're safe, you're not only wrong but dumb as hell!"
Faith watched the girl with wide eyes. Gone was the nervous, twitching Fred from before. This Fred was strong and a blaze with fire. Faith was almost frightened and almost swayed.
Almost, but not quite.
"You're barking up the wrong tree," she replied into the phone after a long pause. "I'm sorry, but I can't do anything from here."
"And if you were out of here?" Fred asked. "If all those people you wronged got you out? If Angel asked you to come and help, what would you do Faith?"
Faith paused, thinking it over. She looked up into Fred's wide eyes, feeling a smirk come over her features. There was something stirring in her stomach, something she hadn't felt in a few years. And it felt surprisingly good. She smiled at the girl, tossing her a quick wink.
"If they need me, all they have to do is come and get me."
*****
***Malfoy Manor, England***
He couldn't get any fucking sleep!
Draco Malfoy felt a scowl crease his forehead. He turned in his bed, twisting so his head was underneath his pillow. He pulled it tight over his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force sleep unto himself. But then those images started coming right back and Draco's eyes flew open yet again.
Fuck it. Fuck it all to hell. His mother would kill him if she found out the level of vulgarity he was using, well thinking, right now. But it helped, felt good, was an outlet.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! He gripped his pillow in his hands, hearing the fabric rip as he pulled it apart. Fuck it all!
There, he felt better. Swearing and a little violence were good for a person. They kept a guy sane. He honestly didn't know why his mother was so against either of it. After all, it's not like his family was the nicest one on the block. His father followed the bloody Dark Lord for Merlin's sake. He couldn't figure out why she accepted that but didn't allow her son to vent some times.
Draco brushed a feather away from his face, throwing the remains of his tattered pillow to the floor. He sat upright, glaring at his room in the dark of the night. He really needed to get some sleep tonight. He was heading to Hogwarts in the morning. Another year of having to put up with Potter, Weasley, and that damn Granger. But on the other hand, another year of seeing Snape terrorize all the bloody gits.
That thought cheered him up, though humour fled him quickly. His mind went back to the dreams he had been having over the past few months. They were disturbing to say the least. He had to put up with them all summer long. He didn't dare to tell his parents, fearing his father's scorn for being frightened by some dreams. And if he found out what the dreams were about as well, then he'd have Draco's neck.
After all, what future Death Eater should be put off by some blood and torture?
But that was Draco's problem with it. It wasn't some, it was a lot. And it wasn't adding up to anything good for anyone.
The blonde bit his lip, mulling over the past few months. Stupid dreams. They wouldn't let him have any peace. What should he care about some girls somewhere, being killed one after the other? Why should he care that he felt a fear surrounding people, Muggles and Wizards alike? He knew what it was, or rather who it was. The Dark Lord had returned, Potter had seen him with his own eyes. And as much as he hated Potter, he knew the boy wouldn't make up such a story about Voldemort. That meant it was all real.
He could guess though, from his father's behaviour. Lucius was always off somewhere, skulking about and prying deeper in the Dark Arts than before. His mother was quiet all the time, looking at her husband in more fear than love nowadays. And he knew how she felt. His dad looked downright mad at some points during the summer. Draco was doing everything he could to ignore him. And ignore the blasted dreams.
He didn't care. That's all he had to keep telling himself. It had nothing to do with him. He certainly hadn't shed tears over those girls dying alone, surrounded by those cruel men. No, he hadn't shed a tear. He never once hid wet pillows from his servants and mother, not once. They didn't bother him in the least. None of his business you see.
Yeah right.
Draco sighed again, falling backwards onto his bed. His eyes went to the ceiling, glaring at it viciously. He didn't like these dreams, or these feelings. He wanted them to go away. He didn't want to spend any more nights haunted by the fear in the eyes of all those girls. And he really didn't want to hear that man scream any more.
Draco growled as his thoughts traveled over to the man. He didn't want to think on him, the dreams revolving around him worse than usual. True, he hadn't seen him in a long time, but that didn't make any of the memories any easier to handle. Whoever the man was, he was being tortured horribly. Draco often spent nights with the man's heart-wrenching screams resounding in his head. Those dreams were sure to draw tears from the boy. The pain was just too much! Why couldn't they let him go already? It had been months. Months!
Draco snarled, throwing his covers over his head. He wasn't getting anywhere with all this mess. He just wanted to get some bloody sleep! Was that too much to ask?
He sighed again, settling down into his bed. He stared up at his ceiling until his eyes began to droop. Left with no other choice, the boy fell to sleep and the horrible dreams once more.
*****
***London, England***
*Scratch, scratch, scratch*
Willow frowned, looking up from her computer. That was the second time she had heard that damn noise. She looked around Giles's living room, trying to find the source of the noise.
When she found none, she got to her feet. She wandered out of the room, ears stretched in vain to find the source of the noise. She knew it wasn't Giles. The man was still at the Council's headquarters, desperately trying to track down Quentin Travers. Willow didn't know exactly was happening among the Watchers, but she knew it wasn't anything good.
And she knew that the dark feeling was responsible for it.
*Scratch, scratch*
There it was again! She whirled around, becoming slightly annoyed. The redhead flounced into the entrance hall, skidding to a stop by the staircase. She went stone still, hearing the noises louder than before. She looked over her shoulder, peering at the front door. They were becoming from outside.
Willow narrowed her eyes, stepping back from the staircase slowly. She focused on the door, cautiously moving closer. She opened the peephole, but saw nothing. However, as she got closer to the door, the scratching increased.
She looked about her, eyes falling on an axe in the living room. She ran quickly, scooping up the weapon before running back to the door. She tok a deep breath, unlocking the door and wrenching it open.
Her axe was brought up immediately, though no real threat met her eye. She looked out in the empty night at first, confused until she heard the coughing at her feet. Shocked, she looked down and was horrified by what she saw there.
He was a bloody mess. Clothes torn, shirt nothing more than scraps clinging to his back as a result of all the blood caked there. He was practically sprawled out on Giles's front steps, barely able to raise his fingers to make the scratching noises that dragged her there. There were bruises, cuts, and marks on very piece of skin she could see. He wasn't making any sense, nothing but mumbles coming from his mouth. He looked like a shell of a person, barely recognizable as a man under all that blood and gore.
But she recognized him on sight.
"Spike!"
*****