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, Faith/Sirius Black, Fred/Remus Lupin, Should I bother with a Buffy pairing?
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 Four
***Outside Berlin, Germany***
They were coming at last.
He could hear them at the door, banging and shouting for him. He didn't have the energy to call out to them. He didn't have the energy to do much. His mouth felt fuzzy, head swimming if he tried to focus on anything. And all the blood, all his own, clung to him in a horrid sticky mess.
He was dying.
They had come, out of nowhere, with white masks and knives. Too many times had he been stabbed and then finally left on his own to die. They had laughed in parting, thinking him too weak to do anything. They thought it would be wise to leave him be, to die alone.
They were idiots.
Yes, he was dying. Yes, they had succeeded in that. But he wasn't as far gone as they would have liked to think. No, he still had some fight in him when they were through. Not enough to save himself, but enough to hopefully save someone else.
The door flew open, splinters cascading across the floor of his little cottage. It was his little retreat, a nice quiet place for him to be left alone with his books. Isolated, to suit his purposes. Unfortunately, it suited their purposes as well.
A group of men came stumbling in, cursing and shouting in alarm at the sight of the cottage. He couldn't even lift his head to see them, instead banging his hand on the floor to get their attention. He heard the rush of footsteps, voices talking all around. Some were German, some were English, he thought he heard a bit of French as well. They were all in a panic.
He was lifted a bit, placed into warm arms as others looked at his wounds. He shook his head, waving their hands away. It would do no good, he was done for. There was only one thing left to be done now.
He forced his head upwards, catching the eye of the one who held him. A very young child, blonde hair and scared blue eyes. A new Watcher no doubt, no more than a year's experience in him. He looked up at this young man, grasping at his hands. He pushed the paper into his, the bloody paper he had written on just barely. It was covered in blood, but it was readable. He made sure the young man gripped it tightly.
And then he struggled to speak, giving the young man the last instructions he would ever give.
"Gi-Gil-Giles!"
The weakness overtook him and he fell backwards. He felt himself be jostled around some more, but heard no more voices. No, he just faded into silence, thankful the end had finally come.
And then Quentin Travers died.
******
***London, England***
**Council Headquarters**
"I want to know what happened to these girls, and I want to know now!"
He was screaming entirely more than he used to. But no one took offence. Instead they rushed off as fast as they could, heading to phones, computers, faxes, and other communication tools, desperate to find him the answers that he wanted.
Giles sighed, dropping his head into his hands as he sat at his desk. He couldn't do this, he couldn't handle all this on his own. Four Watchers from all over the world had been discovered dead in the last few hours. And all four had been in charge of one Slayer in Training each. No one could find the girls.
There was too much going on, especially now with Willow. The girl had phoned him merely hours ago, informing him that she had found a bloody and bruised Spike on his doorstep. And that she had taken the vampire in. Giles had protested, but Willow cut him off. She told him in no uncertain terms that there was something wrong with Spike. And whatever it was, it was connected with this impending doom. She had only called to tell him she needed someone to run blood over to his house, so she could feed Spike. The vampire was far too weak to answer any of her questions. He had sent one of the younger Watchers, telling him to return to Headquarters immediately afterwards. Giles had no fears of leaving Willow with Spike, knowing the vampire was incapable of hurting the girl. And he really didn't have all that manpower to spare at the moment. No choice but to leave the whole mess to Willow, and try to sort things out here quicker.
He rubbed his eyes tiredly, reaching for the phone on his desk. He had to phone Buffy, to see what was happening over there and in LA. To see if someone had indeed been in contact with Faith, to see what the Rogue Slayer had seen. If she had seen anything at all. But Giles had no doubt that she had. It was just a matter of determining what it was that she was seeing.
"Sir?"
The almost timid call from his doorway. He looked up, seeing Mary standing there nervously. Her eyes were downcast, but even he could see the sparkling of tears in them.
"Mary?" he prompted, a tense tone to his voice.
"They found Quentin," the woman revealed, half-sobbing her answer. Giles didn't even need to ask, sinking further down in his chair in despair. Quentin was dead.
"Oh dear lord," he muttered to himself. "What is happening?"
"Rupert," Mary had reassembled some calm and was addressing him again. "They say he had a message for you. Something he demanded that you see. It might be the answer."
Giles nodded numbly, waving Mary into his office.
"Let's have it."
*****
**Giles Manor**
Willow shook her head, trying hard to keep her tears at bay. The redhead bit her lip, drawing in a shaky breath as she looked down at Spike. She had managed to get him into the house and onto the couch. And then she started attending to his wounds.
There were so many of them. Cuts so deep, twisting and marring the vampire's once smooth skin. She had succumbed to tears at many points alongside with Spike's cries of pain. He was in so much pain, not all of it physical. He seemed to be shattered inside, not able to utter a single sensical sentence for her. He was just too weak. He needed blood.
Willow gave a sigh of relief when she heard the knock at the door. She clutched Spike's hand, promising to return shortly, before jumping to her feet and racing to the door. She all but threw it open, dragging the young Watcher there in and slamming the door shut behind him. The young man stumbled, struggling to keep his hold on the container of blood he had been asked to pick up from a butcher on the way there. Willow just took that from him, pulling him along as she made her way back to Spike.
"Mr. Giles requires me to return-"
"I know," she cut him off, dragging him further into the room. "And you can go soon. But you have to see something first."
"What is it?" the Watcher asked. He sounded nervous, body going tense at the sight of Spike on the couch. Willow gave a little growl of frustration, turning to face the Watcher.
"What's your name?" she demanded.
"Marcus," he sputtered, eyes never leaving Spike's prone body.
"Well Marcus, stop freaking out," she ordered. "He can't hurt you, even if he was in good health. I need you to gain some control because there's something on his back I need you to see."
"His back?" Marcus looked bewildered. Willow nodded, pulling him closer to the couch. Gingerly she pulled Spike up, propping him against her shoulder and motioning to Marcus.
"I found it when I was cleaning the blood off," she explained, hands tracing over the scars lightly. "I swear to God, they must have carved it into him several times. It's taking too long to heal. But I don't know what it is, what it symbolizes-"
"Holy shit."
The soft exclamation from Marcus stopped her brief babbling. Green eyes narrowed as her head snapped in his direction. The Watcher looked paler than before, blue eyes wide in fear and shock.
"You know it?" she prompted. Marcus shook his head erratically, gulping rather visibly.
"I have to call Mr. Giles. Right now."
*****
**Hogwarts Express**
Ronald Weasley couldn't help but be worried.
His green eyes went back and forth between his two best friends, both seated rather quietly across from him in their compartment. Neither had said much during the train ride thus far. Actually, neither of them had said much at all since he had met up with them two days ago at the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry was broodier than usual, but then again, he had good reason to be. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back, and most likely gunning for Harry. Having someone like the Dark Lord after you was hard enough, but even more difficult since hardly anyone believed him.
Ron still couldn't believe the absolute refusal of the Ministry of Magic to acknowledge HIS return. His own Dad was quite vocal about it, defending Harry's word on what happened during the Triwizard Competition. But Minister Fudge refused to be moved on the topic. The wizard was just so scared of even the mention of You-Know-Who to ever able to accept his return.
And so everyone did nothing. And Harry stewed about it.
But Hermione, well, there was something bothering her. Something she wasn't telling any of them about. Harry barely noticed, so lost in his own world, but even he acknowledged that there was something up with their friend. But Hermione would not tell them what was wrong.
He felt so incredibly out of the loop, there were no words for it. Ron couldn't hold it against his friends, knowing there had to be a really good reason for both of their behaviour. But he wanted to help them. And he couldn't do that unless they told him what was wrong.
Ron sighed, turning his eyes to out his window. Something was very off this year. Something was very wrong.
But he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
*****
Draco sat stewing in his compartment, barely listening to his friends as they babbled on about him. His mind kept drifting to one thing. The Golden Trio.
He couldn't care less about Potter or Weasley, and usually didn't give a damn about Granger. But he had seen her standing on the platform before they all boarded the train. There was something in her eyes, a haunted look on her face. And right then Draco knew.
Granger felt it too. *****
Author: eena_angel2001
Email: igrewal@sfu.ca or eena_angel@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Category: HP/BTVS/ATS
Pairing: Willow/Oliver Wood, Dawn/Draco, Faith/Sirius Black, Fred/Remus Lupin, Should I bother with a Buffy pairing?
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 Four
***Outside Berlin, Germany***
They were coming at last.
He could hear them at the door, banging and shouting for him. He didn't have the energy to call out to them. He didn't have the energy to do much. His mouth felt fuzzy, head swimming if he tried to focus on anything. And all the blood, all his own, clung to him in a horrid sticky mess.
He was dying.
They had come, out of nowhere, with white masks and knives. Too many times had he been stabbed and then finally left on his own to die. They had laughed in parting, thinking him too weak to do anything. They thought it would be wise to leave him be, to die alone.
They were idiots.
Yes, he was dying. Yes, they had succeeded in that. But he wasn't as far gone as they would have liked to think. No, he still had some fight in him when they were through. Not enough to save himself, but enough to hopefully save someone else.
The door flew open, splinters cascading across the floor of his little cottage. It was his little retreat, a nice quiet place for him to be left alone with his books. Isolated, to suit his purposes. Unfortunately, it suited their purposes as well.
A group of men came stumbling in, cursing and shouting in alarm at the sight of the cottage. He couldn't even lift his head to see them, instead banging his hand on the floor to get their attention. He heard the rush of footsteps, voices talking all around. Some were German, some were English, he thought he heard a bit of French as well. They were all in a panic.
He was lifted a bit, placed into warm arms as others looked at his wounds. He shook his head, waving their hands away. It would do no good, he was done for. There was only one thing left to be done now.
He forced his head upwards, catching the eye of the one who held him. A very young child, blonde hair and scared blue eyes. A new Watcher no doubt, no more than a year's experience in him. He looked up at this young man, grasping at his hands. He pushed the paper into his, the bloody paper he had written on just barely. It was covered in blood, but it was readable. He made sure the young man gripped it tightly.
And then he struggled to speak, giving the young man the last instructions he would ever give.
"Gi-Gil-Giles!"
The weakness overtook him and he fell backwards. He felt himself be jostled around some more, but heard no more voices. No, he just faded into silence, thankful the end had finally come.
And then Quentin Travers died.
******
***London, England***
**Council Headquarters**
"I want to know what happened to these girls, and I want to know now!"
He was screaming entirely more than he used to. But no one took offence. Instead they rushed off as fast as they could, heading to phones, computers, faxes, and other communication tools, desperate to find him the answers that he wanted.
Giles sighed, dropping his head into his hands as he sat at his desk. He couldn't do this, he couldn't handle all this on his own. Four Watchers from all over the world had been discovered dead in the last few hours. And all four had been in charge of one Slayer in Training each. No one could find the girls.
There was too much going on, especially now with Willow. The girl had phoned him merely hours ago, informing him that she had found a bloody and bruised Spike on his doorstep. And that she had taken the vampire in. Giles had protested, but Willow cut him off. She told him in no uncertain terms that there was something wrong with Spike. And whatever it was, it was connected with this impending doom. She had only called to tell him she needed someone to run blood over to his house, so she could feed Spike. The vampire was far too weak to answer any of her questions. He had sent one of the younger Watchers, telling him to return to Headquarters immediately afterwards. Giles had no fears of leaving Willow with Spike, knowing the vampire was incapable of hurting the girl. And he really didn't have all that manpower to spare at the moment. No choice but to leave the whole mess to Willow, and try to sort things out here quicker.
He rubbed his eyes tiredly, reaching for the phone on his desk. He had to phone Buffy, to see what was happening over there and in LA. To see if someone had indeed been in contact with Faith, to see what the Rogue Slayer had seen. If she had seen anything at all. But Giles had no doubt that she had. It was just a matter of determining what it was that she was seeing.
"Sir?"
The almost timid call from his doorway. He looked up, seeing Mary standing there nervously. Her eyes were downcast, but even he could see the sparkling of tears in them.
"Mary?" he prompted, a tense tone to his voice.
"They found Quentin," the woman revealed, half-sobbing her answer. Giles didn't even need to ask, sinking further down in his chair in despair. Quentin was dead.
"Oh dear lord," he muttered to himself. "What is happening?"
"Rupert," Mary had reassembled some calm and was addressing him again. "They say he had a message for you. Something he demanded that you see. It might be the answer."
Giles nodded numbly, waving Mary into his office.
"Let's have it."
*****
**Giles Manor**
Willow shook her head, trying hard to keep her tears at bay. The redhead bit her lip, drawing in a shaky breath as she looked down at Spike. She had managed to get him into the house and onto the couch. And then she started attending to his wounds.
There were so many of them. Cuts so deep, twisting and marring the vampire's once smooth skin. She had succumbed to tears at many points alongside with Spike's cries of pain. He was in so much pain, not all of it physical. He seemed to be shattered inside, not able to utter a single sensical sentence for her. He was just too weak. He needed blood.
Willow gave a sigh of relief when she heard the knock at the door. She clutched Spike's hand, promising to return shortly, before jumping to her feet and racing to the door. She all but threw it open, dragging the young Watcher there in and slamming the door shut behind him. The young man stumbled, struggling to keep his hold on the container of blood he had been asked to pick up from a butcher on the way there. Willow just took that from him, pulling him along as she made her way back to Spike.
"Mr. Giles requires me to return-"
"I know," she cut him off, dragging him further into the room. "And you can go soon. But you have to see something first."
"What is it?" the Watcher asked. He sounded nervous, body going tense at the sight of Spike on the couch. Willow gave a little growl of frustration, turning to face the Watcher.
"What's your name?" she demanded.
"Marcus," he sputtered, eyes never leaving Spike's prone body.
"Well Marcus, stop freaking out," she ordered. "He can't hurt you, even if he was in good health. I need you to gain some control because there's something on his back I need you to see."
"His back?" Marcus looked bewildered. Willow nodded, pulling him closer to the couch. Gingerly she pulled Spike up, propping him against her shoulder and motioning to Marcus.
"I found it when I was cleaning the blood off," she explained, hands tracing over the scars lightly. "I swear to God, they must have carved it into him several times. It's taking too long to heal. But I don't know what it is, what it symbolizes-"
"Holy shit."
The soft exclamation from Marcus stopped her brief babbling. Green eyes narrowed as her head snapped in his direction. The Watcher looked paler than before, blue eyes wide in fear and shock.
"You know it?" she prompted. Marcus shook his head erratically, gulping rather visibly.
"I have to call Mr. Giles. Right now."
*****
**Hogwarts Express**
Ronald Weasley couldn't help but be worried.
His green eyes went back and forth between his two best friends, both seated rather quietly across from him in their compartment. Neither had said much during the train ride thus far. Actually, neither of them had said much at all since he had met up with them two days ago at the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry was broodier than usual, but then again, he had good reason to be. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back, and most likely gunning for Harry. Having someone like the Dark Lord after you was hard enough, but even more difficult since hardly anyone believed him.
Ron still couldn't believe the absolute refusal of the Ministry of Magic to acknowledge HIS return. His own Dad was quite vocal about it, defending Harry's word on what happened during the Triwizard Competition. But Minister Fudge refused to be moved on the topic. The wizard was just so scared of even the mention of You-Know-Who to ever able to accept his return.
And so everyone did nothing. And Harry stewed about it.
But Hermione, well, there was something bothering her. Something she wasn't telling any of them about. Harry barely noticed, so lost in his own world, but even he acknowledged that there was something up with their friend. But Hermione would not tell them what was wrong.
He felt so incredibly out of the loop, there were no words for it. Ron couldn't hold it against his friends, knowing there had to be a really good reason for both of their behaviour. But he wanted to help them. And he couldn't do that unless they told him what was wrong.
Ron sighed, turning his eyes to out his window. Something was very off this year. Something was very wrong.
But he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
*****
Draco sat stewing in his compartment, barely listening to his friends as they babbled on about him. His mind kept drifting to one thing. The Golden Trio.
He couldn't care less about Potter or Weasley, and usually didn't give a damn about Granger. But he had seen her standing on the platform before they all boarded the train. There was something in her eyes, a haunted look on her face. And right then Draco knew.
Granger felt it too. *****