The group looks at me, dumbfounded, and I give a little giggle. It's been a long time since I've been the centre of attention. Well, if you don't count the battle with Glory, me jumping off the stupid bridge, dying, being resurrected, battling the First...
Dumbledore clears his throat, and my attention snaps back. Realising that I'm still standing on greasy-git's wrist, I shoot him a wild smirk and release my foot. His scowl is permanently etched onto his face and I amble around the room, fixing up a few chairs that toppled during our 'fight'.
"As you can see, Miss Summers is well qualified for the position," Dumbledore says to the group, eyes sparkling brightly.
There's an odd, but familiar sensation prickling up my back. Demon! My senses scream. But it's mixed...and very familiar...
As Dumbledore continues to speak to the group, ushering them back to their seats, trying to divert their stares from me, I surreptitiously glance around, pretending to pick up a few broken bits of wood from the stone floor. I can feel the hairs on my neck bristle even more as I near a man wearing robes similar to Dumbledore's, but way shabbier. He's standing in a dark corner, listening to the head-guy speak.
I narrow my eyes slightly as I bend to pick up a splinter of wood from the ground near his foot. There's a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach that I haven't felt since...
"Werewolf?" I ask, feigning friendliness as I stand back up, a glare on my face. Ever since that bitch Veruca made with the claws and Oz, my favouritism hasn't been lying with werewolves.
His head whips around, a nervous and shocked look marring his face. His look is sincere, and I feel almost guilty. Almost. I wonder if Dumbledore knows...
"Ah, Miss Summers," Dumbledore calls from the front of the room. I knew it...
"I see you have met Remus Lupin," he continues, ignoring the gazes of the people around him.
"Yes, I have, sir," I replied, "Just wondering if you knew..."
"That he was a werewolf?" Dumbledore interrupts me.
I nod. No point in beating round the bush. I keep a close eye on Remus shifting uneasily beside me.
"Of course," the old man replies simply.
That doesn't come as a surprise. The guy has such a melancholy look on his face, maybe he won't turn out so bad. Not that all werewolves are bad...I mean Oz was all nice and stuff, besides the stoicism and...am I babbling inside my head?
Cutting off my inane mind-babble, I nod and say, "Cool with me."
I turn around to face the man, sticking my hand out, "I'm Buffy Summers, nice to meet you."
Remus has a slightly shocked look on his face, and he looks at my hand, unsure whether to touch it or not. What? Do I have cooties or something? Hesitantly, he grips my hand, giving it shake.
"Remus Lupin," he murmurs, and I think I sense a tone of awe hidden in there somewhere.
"Don't worry," I assure him, "my best friend's ex used to be a werewolf. He's off in Tibet or something being all monk-y."
"Being a monkey?" he asks, confused.
I laugh loudly. My voice rings in the stone room and I blush, as everyone's attention is focused on my face once again.
"No, no, he's learning to control his inner-wolf by being with monks," I explain to Remus, my cheeks hot.
He makes a soft sound of understanding before his attention is once again caught by Dumbledore beginning to speak about some plan. I notice that on the side, he looks quite handsome, if it weren't for the dark shadows that linger on his face. And he's looking slightly worse for wear in his worn clothes.
The way he holds himself seems so familiar...an image of the mirror in the room I stayed in at Angel's flashes through my head. I realise that Remus' look of desolation was one that I shared only two days ago.
"Miss Summers, if you would like to take a seat?" Dumbledore calls out.
As I walk back to my seat, plonking myself down beside scowl-face, my thoughts are distracted. It seemed an age ago when I was lying in such desperation, staring at the water-stain on the Hyperion's ceiling. And now? I'm Little Miss Slayer again. Working with the Big Boys again.
The old man's eyes shift slightly to me before continuing with what he was saying. I absently notice that Remus has moved from the dark corner to take a seat next to another shadowy figure.
"Our priorities now," Dumbledore says, his voice taking a very serious tone, "are to protect Harry from Voldemort, and to capture as many Death Eaters as possible to obtain information on Voldemort's progress."
Harry must be the boy that Dumbledore was talking about in the letter. And what's a Death Eater? Obviously a baddie...but a demon? Little Miss Muffet, counting down from 7-3-0...Pay attention! God, where did that sentence come from? It's nagging at the back of my head...I've heard it somewhere! Argh, I hate déjà vu!
"...Silvica, Snape, Summers, Tonks," Dumbledore recited. It took a moment for the thought to sink in.
"WHAT?!" the man beside me yelled at the same time. No way should my name be associated with his! Damn, I should've listened to what the old guy was saying.
"I've explained before," Dumbledore said, a glimmer in his eyes, "all the names are in alphabetical order, and there is no change to occur."
I could hear Snape (so that's his name, poor guy) grumbling as he shot continuous glares to Dumbledore.
"Stay in your groups, and there will be a roster in here later tonight detailing your patrol times. Obviously, some of your members may be missing during their working hours, but these have all been taken into consideration."
Dumbledore claps his hands, a smile on his face.
"Now, Molly, I would love to try some of your butter biscuits," he gestures, and everyone takes this as a sign that the meeting's over.
I hold back for a moment as everyone moves to leave, filing out and talking softly. I don't really take notice of anyone in particular, dark-robed figures brushing amiably past. I walk over to Dumbledore, who, strangely enough, seems to be waiting for me too.
"I take it that you weren't really listening, Miss Summers," he says, a smile lifting his mouth.
I have the decency to blush.
"Sorry, sir, I wasn't," I mumble back.
"I was explaining about our espionage teams," Dumbledore said, "you will be assigned a location with your group, and hopefully locate other spies and Death Eaters that have been assisting Voldemort in his rise."
I nod slowly. This wasn't really making sense. He had said in the letter that it was going to be explained, but I have no clue about what he's talking about.
"I'm sorry, Mr Dumbledore," I apologise, "but I don't really know who or what you're talking about. I know there's a big bad that needs his butt kicked, but besides that..."
His eyes take on a look of contemplation.
"There is someone I would like you to meet," he says, ushering me out of the room.
Okay, talk about avoiding the subject...
I find myself out in the hall again, several people still lingering about, talking in undertones. More than half of them have left. I follow Dumbledore, who stops next to Remus and a man that looks so much like Angel, I gasp.