A/N: I've been warned by my faithful beta that this chapter might disturb some readers. Consider this a warning: the last parts of Chapter 10 deal with some torture, or suggestions of. If you can handle watching BtVS, there shouldn't be a problem.

On with the show!

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Chapter 10:  Ever Seeking Solace

#Sunnydale#

"Giles? Are you busy?"

Closing the fridge, Giles turned to see Willow standing in the door of the kitchen, dressed in sweats. It was obvious she had been disturbed from sleep, and for a moment the look in her green eyes reminded him of the painfully shy schoolgirl who he had first seen perusing the stacks in the old Sunnydale High School library.

 Willow's feet were bare, her hair slightly mussed. Still rubbing sleep from her eyes, she perched on a stool in front of the wide counter, resting her chin on her hand.

Giles smiled at her, setting the growing list of needed groceries aside and moving to fill the kettle.

" I'm not busy at all, Willow. Cup of tea?"                

The redhead smiled gratefully at him as they waited for the water to boil. Only when her hands were wrapped around a mug of hot tea did she speak, as if the warmth radiating from the mug gave her strength.

" Sleeping – apparently not of the good. I mean, I got to sleep okay…. But staying asleep – my mind just won't turn off so I figured I could maybe do some research on this prophecy so we know what we're facing, that way I could at least try and be useful...."

Giles cut off her breathless babbling. " You're already more useful than you'll ever know, Willow. I do understand your inability to sleep, though – why else do you think I'm making a grocery list at six o'clock in the morning?" Giles paused, taking in the dark circles lining Willow's eyes, the very air of exhaustion that seemed to hang over them all these past weeks. His tone was gentle as he met her eyes. "Something on your mind?"

Her reflexes taking over, Willow began to shake her head, forcing a false smile onto her features. Then, as if realizing where she was, she stopped short, uncertain. Giles fought to suppress a sigh, instead reaching across the counter to place his hand on hers.

" Willow – there is no need for false pretences. If something is bothering you, you can tell me. You know that as well as anyone."

Willow sipped her tea gingerly, her eyes never leaving Giles's. Swallowing, she spoke softly, as if fearful that her voice would betray her.

"It's just… we've been researching this prophecy and getting nowhere. Patrolling. Trying to go on with our lives. Sometimes I forget, y'know? Tonight – we finished patrol, and all I could think of was getting home and telling Buffy how we staked four vampires, all by ourselves. I even went straight up to her room, almost expecting to find her carving stakes, or picking out tomorrow's stylish yet affordable ensemble  –  just being there, being Buffy. I knew she was gone – but for that one moment, just before I opened her door, I hoped she'd be there. Is that entirely stupid?"

Giles paused, choosing his words carefully against the growing ache in his chest. "It's not stupid at all. These things take time, Willow. It's only natural that you still hope Buffy will appear one day, that she'll come back to us unharmed. There's nothing we want more. Sometimes, though, the cards we want and the hand we are dealt are quite different. We - " Suddenly, Giles found he could not continue. For once, he could not step in to make everything better.

Willow watched, tears welling in her eyes as the man she had come to think of as a sort of surrogate father buried his head in his hands. Rising, she circled the counter and wrapped her slender arms around the ex-Watcher.

The kitchen was bathed in the rosy glow of the dawn, the tea sat forgotten on the bench.  The sounds of movement echoed above their heads as the other occupants of the house began to stir, preparing for another long day ahead. Still the witch and the ex-Watcher clung to each other, taking momentary shelter from the storm of grief raging through their shattered world.

As the sun chased away the horrors that lurked in the night, Willow and Giles finally allowed themselves to accept the loss of a Slayer, a daughter, a best friend.

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#Hogwarts#

Said Slayer was currently sleeping, completely unaware of both her current surroundings and the world she'd left behind her. Under the watchful eyes of Madame Pomfrey, her injuries had already begun to heal; completely mystifying the matron, as well as the friends and assorted Professors that could often be found at her bedside.

Unbeknown to Madame Pomfrey, Harry was sitting in a chair beside Lily's bed, wrapped in the invisibility cloak. Despite the piles of homework awaiting him in Gryffindor tower, he felt oddly protective of the small blonde, a feeling which had driven him to her bedside the last two nights. He sat quietly, one of her small cold hands wrapped in his large warm one.

He could still remember the night they had discovered the wreckage in the Potions classroom, and the events following, as clear as day.

***

The first thing Harry saw as he flung open the doors to the hospital wing was Snape, his robes dark with blood, pacing beside a bed. Madame Pomfrey was bustling around, conjuring bandages and administering potions. For a moment, Harry was reminded of the night he had found Lily on the Hogwarts grounds.

He hadn't thought it possible that someone could be as injured as she had been then – but as he approached the bed, the myriad of bruises and broken skin made him draw a panicked breath.

Ron and Hermione burst in, Ron scowling when he saw Snape was there. "What did... mmph!" Hermione had stopped Ron from saying something else he would regret, clamping her hand over his mouth.

She was rewarded with a glare, but Ron took the hint and bit back whatever comment he had been about to make. Much to Madame Pomfrey's annoyance, the Trio crowded around Lily's bed, staring in horror. Ushering them back, she continued to work, a frown creasing her usually motherly face. She spoke quietly to Snape as if they were alone.

" I don't understand, Severus. I've used my strongest potions – and not one of them has worked. She won't respond. I'll just have to stop the bleeding the Muggle way."

Snape nodded in agreement. " Perhaps Albus will be able to shed some light on the situation – I'm sure he will be arriving shortly."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the Headmaster himself appeared, Sirius in tow. Snape scowled at the sight of Sirius. Although the two men had developed a sort of forced tolerance for one another, Snape had never fully forgiven Sirius for the events in Harry's third year, nor for their history as Hogwarts students.

Dumbledore's sharp glance reminded both the ex-Marauder and the current Potions Professor that there were more important things to focus on. Namely, the student lying unconscious in front of them.

"What happened, Severus?"

Ignoring the fact that the Headmaster hadn't been addressing him, Ron opened his mouth to retort, no doubt full of nasty thoughts about Snape. This time, he shook Hermione's hand off impatiently, pushing her away.

"Get off, Hermione!" Her eyes widened and without a word she turned and rushed from the room. Before Ron could say anything, Dumbledore motioned for silence, turning to Snape expectantly. Snape responded quietly, glancing malevolently in the direction of the two students as though he wished they would disappear.

"Her injuries were caused by a Boggart, which Miss Asher fought quite admirably. Albus, I'm happy to explain this to you in more detail *alone* - but not here."

Harry watched as the Headmaster nodded gravely – though he suspected Dumbledore already knew what had happened. Beside him, he felt Ron stiffen. In the wake of his outburst, he had obviously remembered Hermione. Harry was just about to suggest he go after their friend, when Ron spun on his heel and followed the distraught witch.

Now only Harry, Sirius, Snape and Dumbledore were left in the room. Madame Pomfrey was still fussing over Lily, trying to repair the damage as best she could without magic. Harry frowned as a thought forced its way to the front of his mind.

" Professor Dumbledore…Why won't Madame Pomfrey's potions work on Lily? I mean, they worked when I - when we found her. And the other day, when we were practicing in Charms, Ron overdid his Changing Charm and Lily ended up with bright green hair….Magic worked before, why not now?"

Kindly eyes met his, as Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. " We originally assumed that Lily was unharmed when she dropped from the portal – apart from the loss of her memory. Perhaps something affected her after all – something that has been dormant until now, but was suddenly awakened. It may be that a part of her is now repelling magic."

"So she won't be able to do magic either?" Harry was suddenly frightened at the thought that Lily would be forced to leave Hogwarts – having no magic abilities, there would be no reason for her to stay.

" My dear boy, it would never come to that. Magic or muggle, Lily is welcome to stay as long as she wishes. Do you remember my words to you so many years ago? Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it – or, furthermore, to those who need it. I can hardly send Miss Asher away when she is so obviously in need of our help."

Harry blinked. Even after nearly six years at Hogwarts, it was still creepy when Dumbledore did his mind reading thing.

***

The Boy Who Lived was jolted back to reality when he felt Lily's hand begin to move in his. Her eyes snapped open, wide and frightened. She was struggling now, trying to pull her hand from his. Harry, not wanting her to wake Madame Pomfrey, tried to calm her.

"Shh….Lils, it's only me. Harry. It's okay, I promise. You're safe."

She continued to struggle, not at all comforted by his murmured words. Her hazel eyes seemed to stare straight through him, as if he wasn't there - oh. Harry resisted the urge to smack himself in the head for his stupidity. He had forgotten about the invisibility cloak. Slowly, he began to pull it off, while whispering quietly to Lily, telling her what he was doing. No doubt the sight of his head floating in the air would be enough to frighten even the strongest of characters.

Lily watched warily as Harry appeared, the cloak sliding to the ground. He smiled at her, and she tried her best to smile back, wincing as her facial muscles protested at the sudden movement. Her whole head felt overly large. And foggy, as if there were something important she should remember.

"How long was I…"

" Couple of days. How do you feel?"

" Peachy with a side of keen." Lily looked down at her chest, taking in the soreness and large bandage there. For the first time, she noticed that someone had changed her clothes – instead of the white shirt and black pants, she wore blue pajama pants and a pale pink tank. As if answering her unasked question, Harry spoke.

"Snape changed you." Noticing the horrified expression on Lily's face, he hastily explained. "With magic, I mean. Nothing to do with taking off your clothes. Not that that's a bad thing – I mean….er…"

Harry felt all the blood in his body rush to his face. He had never been so embarrassed in his life – apart from that incident last year when he had volunteered to 'test' one of Fred and George's improved Canary Creams at dinner and had ended up clad only in his Gryffindor boxer shorts on top of the house table, a pile of yellow feathers at his bare feet.

Lily let out a rather unladylike snort of laughter at the mortified expression on Harry's face. If she hadn't been reminded of her injuries by the sudden, stabbing pain in her chest, she would have hugged him. Harry could be so adorable sometimes…

 A frosty breeze suddenly blew in through the half open window by her bed, making her shiver violently. Harry searched the room for another blanket, and upon finding none, he did something that was totally instinctive.

He climbed up next to Lily on the bed, and gently wrapped his arms around her. Had Fred and George been there, they would have accused him of thinking with a part of his body that was most definitely *not* his brain. They would have been wrong – it wasn't about that. Not tonight.

To his utter surprise, Lily didn't push him away. Instead, he felt her relax into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. Lily was tired and confused, and all she was sure of was that Harry cared about her, that when he was nearby she felt safe.

Loved, even.

Their bond was about more than just a growing teenage crush. For now, Harry and Lily; although unaware that they were victims of the same pre-determined destiny, found a kind of peace in each other that neither could describe.

After awhile, the only sound in the darkened room was soft  breathing as the Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Died (Twice) drifted off to sleep.

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Faith's existence had fallen into a kind of rhythm. It was impossible to tell night from day in the small space she was confined to – the windowless room was only lit by the small slice of flickering light visible under the heavy door.

Most of the time, she was chained to one of the walls, hands and legs shackled. Unlike the flimsy prison handcuffs, which she could have easily snapped, these were heavy iron shackles that reminded her of an old movie she'd seen once.

The name eluded her, but the image of a skeletal figure, strapped to some kind of torture wheel, remained in her mind.

It was the image of torture that made her remember, she supposed. After all, what other name could be given to what was happening to her?

Her albino-like jailer came every few hours, usually backed up by two or more hooded figures. And man, these guys were solid. Harder to hurt than Kakistos – not that she could even if she tried. Faith was fairly certain that they were all human – in some twisted form, at least. Besides, there were no handy super-sized stakes around.

Nothing, in fact, that could be considered a weapon. Her new prison cell consisted solely of four walls, a door, and the shackles. It was worse than being in the solitary confinement she had heard much talk of in her former prison . At least there was some kind of toilet in solitary. Here – there were nothing but stains on the floor from previous occupants.

The groaning of the door swinging open interrupted her muddled thoughts. Faith had learned quickly that looking up or making any noise would bring pain. The once-fiery Slayer had had that fire beaten, kicked, and drugged out of her. The smallest spark remained deep inside her, fueled by memories that slipped further from her grasp day by day.

Head lolling, Faith wondered if he would use the knife today, or just cut straight to the burning pain. She never thought the day would come when she would be afraid of something that so closely resembled a stake – but when he pointed it at her, it was all she could do to choke back a scream.

Faith closed her eyes, waiting for the first blow. The seconds ticked by slowly.

It never came.

Instead, an odd feeling of relaxation spread over her battered body. It was as if her mind had been completely wiped out, leaving her almost floating. Dimly aware of her surroundings, she felt her bindings drop to the floor, leaving her free for the first time since her capture.

Standing unsteadily on legs that were thin and weak, Faith had no strength to do anything but follow the cloaked figures out of the room, and down a torch-lit corridor. In fact, she had no great urge to fight against the peace that had a firm grasp on her mind.

After all, it was a hell of a lot easier to take than the pain.

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#Sunnydale#

The bell over the Magic Box door tinkled as Dawn stepped into the shop, schoolbooks in tow. Slinging her backpack into a corner, she joined Xander at the table, grabbing a donut from the box in front of him.

" So what's the what? Did we solve the riddle yet? Did Giles find out what the shiny ball thing is? Where's Willow? And Tara?"

Xander held up his hands against the flow of questions, mumbling through a mouthful of donut. " Hey, whoa there Cowgirl. Some of us can only handle one thought at a time. Right now I'm concentrating on the sugary goodness." He yelped as Anya plucked the remains of said sugary goodness from his hand.

The ex-demon glared at him. " How are we supposed to get married if you can't even fit into your suit? The little man at the shop was quite nasty about refunds and exchanges. Plus, his head was oddly shiny. He's the kind that should have boils put on his penis – I'll have to ask Halfrek about it at the bridal shower."

Xander stared at her. "Okay, number one; I don't think having a reflecting dome warrants boils, and number two…..boils?"

"Let it go, sweetie."

Dawn pouted. Once again, nobody was paying attention to her. Fine. If they wanted to be like that, she would just get her stuff and – run straight into Spike. Uh-oh.

"Where do you think you're going, Nibblet? Sun's almost down. Nasty things come out to play after dark."

"On your way out there, Captain Peroxide? The all-you-can-drink buffet is open for business. Should be a hell of a time for all you undead types. Oh, but wait!" Xander gasped in mock horror. " The other puppies don't like the smell of your butt anymore."

Anya peered around Xander. "What's wrong with Spike's butt? I think it's cute. You could bounce a nickel off of that ass."

Spike's response was to flash a smirk of satisfaction Xander's way, before giving Dawn a look. " You're staying here, Bit. I need to talk to the Watcher. Where is he, anyway? Got somethin' he might like to have a peep at."

Xander motioned toward the door. " He's not here. What a shame. Bye now!"

"Well, did he say where he was goin' then? This is bloody important!" Spike growled.

"Perhaps I can help you out with that?" An unexpected voice behind him made Spike whirl around, eyes flashing amber. All eyes were focused on Wesley as he stepped through the doorway, eyes roaming the shop curiously.

Anya shrugged. "Sorry, wrong Watcher. We're having a meeting. And we're closed. So go away."

Before anyone could apologise to Wesley, the door opened once again, and three more people entered. Spike snorted.

"Bloody fantastic. Crew's all here then." He nodded at each of them in turn, eyes lingering on Cordelia. " Seer, looking good. Love the hair."

Cordelia resisted the sudden urge to pat her head , instead raising her eyebrows at him. "Bite me, Bleach."

Spike looked shocked. "What? With everyone here? Stop by my crypt later, love, we'll talk donation." Wesley stepped in front of her, glaring. "Or not."

From behind Gunn, there was a small squeak. "Charles, you said he was neutered."

"Hey! I'm not bloody neutered! All parts in full working order here!"

Cordelia rolled her eyes as Fred squeaked once again. "Unfortunately, his mouth works just fine."

"So where's the Magnificent Poof? Wouldn't be a party without an ass-pansy."

Gunn glanced over his shoulder quickly before replying. " Prob'ly re-gelling the 'do. Someone ditched his super-strength hair goop before we left – the blanket he wore on the way down is hell on the hair." This revelation scored a chuckle from most of the people in the shop. Spike eyed Gunn with new appreciation.

"Y'know, Chuck, you've got a fair set of stones. A bloke could get to like you. Have to warn you though – Peaches won't be all moment-of-happiness when he finds out about this."

"Finds out about what, Spike?"

If Gunn could have turned lily white, he would have. As it were, he blanched as Angel's voice sounded dangerously close to his ear. Wesley suddenly seemed extremely interested in examining the paintwork.

Cordelia's eyes widened as Fred scampered from behind Gunn to hide behind…Spike?

Not one for awkward silences, Anya stepped toward Angel and quirked an eyebrow.

"You look like crap. Is that the style now?"

There was a collective snort of laughter from practically everyone.

Angel just glared.

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#Hogwarts#

"Hermione?"

Her eyes remained fixed on one of the books in the enormous pile sitting in front of her. Like the others, it was useless, but for now it proved a welcome distraction from a certain red-haired Weasley who was desperately trying to get *some* kind of reaction.

"Aw, come on Hermione, you aren't going to ignore me forever, are you?"

No response. The library was silent – with only two weeks to go until the Christmas holidays, studying was the furthest thing from most students' mind. Unless of course they were the brightest witch in the sixth year, on a continuing search for information on whatever a 'Watcher' might be.

" Hermione….I said I was sorry! What else do you want?"

At the moment, the student quota in the library was two – and as far as Hermione was concerned, that was one too many. Still, a part of her wished she hadn't started this cold silence between herself and Ron.

 That small yet persistent part wanted nothing more than to meet his eyes, to assure him that everything was okay between them. That they could go back to being the 'chums' they had been up until two days ago.

"Please, 'Mione…will you just *look* at me? I want things to go back to the way they were….when we were friends."

Unfortunately, something had hit her the night she had fled to her dormitory sobbing – no matter how hard she tried to be *just friends* with Ron Weasley, she wished he would see her as something more. She had suddenly seen a hint of who he would become - who he already was -  and the knowledge had slapped her in the face.

It was as if her mind had kept him frozen as an eleven-year-old for the last five years. How ironic that she, widely known to be the smartest student at Hogwarts, couldn't even see what had been happening right in front of her?

"Hermione, I know you're not reading."

" Of course I'm reading!" She flinched in synch with Ron at the harsh sound of her voice. Always persistent, Ron stepped forward until Hermione could feel his warm breath on the back of her exposed neck. The sensation made her insides liquefy. She was certain her neck had just turned scarlet…and prayed that Ron hadn't noticed.

"Then why are you holding your book upside down?"

Darn it. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a plausible explanation. Okay, a semi-plausible explanation. Any explanation at all?

"I….uh….I just…." Hermione stammered, silently cursing books and cleverness. What use were facts (like knowing the twenty-seven different enchantments protecting Hogwarts) when it came to something like this? Why hadn't she paid more attention to Lavender and Parvarti's night-time giggling about 'girly things'?

Why was Ron staring so – hungrily - at her lips?

" Ron, what….."

Hermione didn't get a chance to finish her question, the sudden passionate kiss taking not only her voice but her breath away.

For the first time in her entire life, Hermione Granger's brain temporarily shut down.

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A smell of mildew and copper hung thick in the air. No, not copper – blood. A male voice echoed dimly within the room, yet nobody else seemed to hear it.

*It's always gotta be blood*

There was something happening at the front of the room – something she needed to see. Instinct told her that it was probably not wise to simply push through the crowd of hooded figures. She stretched out to her full (though not particularly impressive) height, dimly aware of a stabbing pain in her chest, and managed to peek through a gap between two heads.

The little she could see stole her breath away, an iron fist tightening around her stomach as she fought down nausea.

Three bloody figures were pinned to the wall, unmoving. Two appeared to be adult – the other was a child. All were bloodied and broken, yet the only sound in the room was a hissing voice that she could not place.

Whoever had done – that – to those poor people had to be some kind of monster.

Then she saw them. Two shadowy forms, standing apart from the others.

Red eyes glowed from underneath a draped hood, their cruel gaze settling for a moment upon the impassive face of a dark-haired girl. Dull chocolate eyes met fiery red for a moment, before lowering subserviently.

The smaller of the two started toward the front of the room, an intricately carved knife gripped tightly in her hand. Somehow, though smaller, she was no less menacing – but there was something about the way she moved……her hair.

This was the girl from the dream – the mysterious 'friend.' And she was…..

Oh God.

The dark-haired girls' movements were like a gruesome poetry – a fatal car crash that you just can't tear your eyes away from, no matter how much you want to. The knife flashed slowly as it ripped through tender, young skin. The child.

Blood began to flow, a drip that increased slowly until it was pouring from the slices the knife inflicted, spattering onto the stone floor. All eyes were riveted on the dark splatters, a person's lifeblood draining slowly from their exposed flesh.

* Blood is life. It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead * That same voice again, the English accent stronger this time.

Still the knife continued to flash as flesh peeled from bone, the dark-haired girl methodically working, pausing only to wipe stray drips from her dulled eyes. Still nobody moved.

The red-eyed shape broke the silence. "That is enough, Slayer. Come here."

The command was obeyed instantly, the dark-haired girl returning to her original position at his side.

"Slayer. This is what you are. It is what you were born for. Do you feel the power pulse inside you? Can you taste the darkness like you can taste the blood?"

A pink tongue snaked from the girl's mouth, lapping at the blood on her lips. The knife dropped to the floor as the hissing continued.

 "This is all that you are. The power. The evil. It writhes inside your very soul. Those who walk in the light cannot understand it. They are merely jealous – they want what only you have inside you. Should you give them the chance, they will wrench it from your grasp, leaving behind only emptiness. Weakness. You are not weak. Together we shall make this world what it should be – we shall strike fear into every heart."

A bony hand extended to sweep the room. "They are fearful of you. This can only make you stronger, for as long as there is fear, there is power. As long as there is power – we can rule."

His voice rose, a twisted call of triumph. " Come, my faithful ones. There is much to do before the final battle." Robes swirled as figures vanished into the air. Soon, only a handful were left.

Standing in the shadows, Lily watched, ice creeping through her veins as the hissing shape drew a wand and touched the forearm of the shadow closest to him. A powerful force swept through the room, sending all but herself, the dark-haired girl, and the wizard formerly known as Tom Riddle to their knees.

Evil eyes flared with some form of joy as a high, cold laugh echoed above the cries of pain.

"Let us begin."

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The easy peace of the Hogwarts hospital wing was shattered as Lily's terrified screams tore through the air. Her eyes were wild as she sat up, clawing at something only she could see.

Harry was catapulted from the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. Clutching his throbbing scar, he could only watch with haunted eyes as Madame Pomfrey tried desperately to calm her. A heavy realization had settled like ice in his stomach.

Voldemort had regained full power. The coming days could only be dark.

*****

Severus Snape was making dark slashes with his quill across abysmal third year Potions essays when he heard the screams echoing through the corridors. Before he could rise, he felt a pain in his arm that could only mean one thing.

The essays forgotten, he fell to his knees, watching in horror as the outlines of the skull flowed with new ink, bulging against his otherwise pale skin.

The screaming outside lessened, fading away to harsh sobs. Snape, Head of Slytherin House and the most feared teacher in the school, could do little more than bite back a scream of his own as the Dark Mark continued to burn.

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A/N: Next time - The Scoobies and Fang Gang *finally* make some progress with the prophecy. Plus, we cross live to Hogwarts where Snape is glaring, new romance is in the air, and somebody has found out exactly *who* 'Lily' is.