The two men look at each other warily, and I smirk, knowing that they're pondering on how badly I can really kick their asses. I don't bother waiting for an answer as I amble over to the wall, grabbing two blades, one of which is Fatalis, named after my battle with Angelus. Kinda surprising, actually, what a serious name I had given one of my favourite weapons...considering that my stake is called Mr. Pointy.
"Who's Mr. Pointy?" I hear Remus ask from behind me.
Damn, must've been muttering out loud.
Whirling around, I throw him a sword that he catches deftly by the helm, twirling the fairly light weapon around.
"Trust me, you'd know Mr. Pointy if you met him," I reply with a grin, leaning slightly to his side to peek at Sirius still sitting on a mat at the other end of the room, curiousity rolling off him in waves.
The two of us walk to the centre of the room, and I push a few of the beams out of the way, and unhook the punching bag as well. Leaving the mats on the ground, I give Remus a minute to adjust to the sword while I turn around and stretch. I know he's ready when the faint, but sharp humming sound of the blade slicing through the air stops, awaiting a much more vicious sound of weapons clashing.
Turning back, I see that he is poised, waiting for me to initiate the fight. I raise my sword as well, a grim feeling settling in the pit of my stomach as I see the bright light glint off Fatalis, reminding me harshly off the battle with Angelus, even after all these years.
Xander constantly tells me that I give him the wiggins when I get my 'battle-face' on because he knows that something is going to get hurt. Bad. He said I also I look like a possessed Barbie. Of course this resulted in a major glare-fest for the next week or so.
Now, I try not to look too serious for Remus' sake, as I start to circle him.
"You played with swords before?" I ask, stepping warningly around him before bringing my blade down swiftly, to be met with his. Good, the werewolf knows his stuff.
He shrugs, but keeps his eye on me, "A bit. I prefer to use magic though."
He gets sick of waiting and endless circling, slashing his sword with three blows to mine that I block easily. Men, impatience is always what kills 'em. It was the same with Angelus. Always too eager to be bloody and ruthless in battle.
Remus continues to prove this statement true as he swipes at me with his sword, movements that are fervent, but jagged. I wait patiently until I sense him tiring. Defending is easy, especially since Remus' moves aren't nearly that quick, and I can anticipate his actions.
I wait until I feel that weak spot, that single moment when his strength does not entirely fill his sword's actions because he is weakening. Surprisingly, it takes him quite a while to tire, and I can see that he is puzzled as to why I am not beating him to a pulp.
Buffster Secret No. 1: Always act like the damsel-in-distress, despite the fact that your opponent knows that you were born to fight Evil.
Then I feel it, a weaker sound in the clash of our swords. Remus hears it too, and I flash him a warning smirk. He puts up his defences immediately as I start to bring Fatalis to life. I swing the sword around in what I know are blindingly fast moves, feeling my Slayer strength pump to the surface.
I can feel the exhilaration in my blood, a sensation that I have missed sorely since the battle with The First, to my great shock. For years I have dreamed of having a normal life, to just be a simple girl with great friends and maybe a decent job. It still hurts to wake up everyday, knowing that my very essence was born of evil and that normality is something that I can never have.
These thoughts plague my mind; I can feel my blood, Slayer blood, pounding deafeningly in my ears, imitated by the havoc that I am wreaking with Fatalis. My muscles are screaming with much-missed energy as I do a spin, nimbly kicking Remus' sword out of his hands. My thoughts hit me too late as my body responds to my Slayer sense crying werewolf, and I jump-kick, catching Remus by the neck and throwing him to the floor.
Breathing heavily, the oxygen flow to my brain reinstates thought and I look on in horror at Remus breathing in pain on the mat.
"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" I say in shock, rushing over to him.
He manages to give me a feeble smile, clutching his side.
"Wow," he croaks, "remind me never to get on your bad side."
I give a small laugh of relief, as Sirius rushes over too, a wide grin on his face.
"That was incredible!" he said excitedly, ignoring his friend in pain, "where'd you learn to fight like that?"
His smile is wonderful, it's like watching Angel smile in his rare moments, except Sirius' gloom seems to have completely disappeared. I blush slightly, hoping that any red is camouflaged from my already pink-tinted cheeks from the workout.
"All part of the Slayer package," I reply, "Oh, and doing about seven years of practice helps too."
The two men laugh, Remus still holding his side gingerly.
"Have I mentioned that I'm sorry?" I wince as I see the werewolf try to hide his pain.
He merely chuckles back, "I'll have to hold you to that Miss Summers..."
My comeback is interrupted when a frizzy-haired head peeks through the door and says, "We're having pudding for dessert, and Mrs Weasley wants you to eat something."
Sirius whips his head around and nods, saying, "Thanks Hermione, we'll be out soon."
When the door shuts, I look at the two men curiously. That Hermione didn't sound older than Dawn. What was she doing in such an evil house?
Sirius must sense my puzzlement because he says, adding a grin at the end, "You'll meet the kids in the kitchen. And the whole Weasley lot."
I busy myself, putting all the equipment back in place as Remus and Sirius head towards the door. Once I finish, I re-enter the kitchen with great interest. Sitting around the paper-cluttered table that I had grabbed my apple from previously, is an assortment of people, ranging from bright and loud redheads to the depressing and sinister-looking Snape in one corner, avoiding the light.
The volume immediately drops as the three of us enter, and I can feel a number of eyes on me. No guessing which family the redheads in the room belong to.
"Dear, try some pudding. You must be absolutely ravenous," Mrs Weasley gently orders, dishing some sweet-looking dessert into a bowl and ushering me into a seat next to another redhead, one of her sons, I think.
I find a calloused hand in front of my face before I even consider eating the pudding, and I look to my side.
"Bill Weasley," the young man introduces himself, shaking my hand.
I can't help but notice the earring in his ear, and unwanted, naughty thoughts are soon plaguing my head, spawned from one observation: rebel-boy. I believe Anya, ever the wordsmith, described it as 'horny thoughts that I want to do...right now.' A fierce blush colours my cheeks, and I chastise myself, desperately trying to keep my thoughts from continuing to stray down that very impish path.
"Buffy Summers," I reply.
"I know, I was in the meeting," he says, but I notice some hesitation in his voice and follow whom his eyes flick to. The frizzy-haired girl from before and two other redheads sitting across the table from us, staying quiet and diverting their eyes as if they were trying to eavesdrop.
I shoot Bill a wink before loudly saying, "Oh, I just loved the way I was welcomed this afternoon. The men in that meeting, mmm, so experienced in making a girl feel comfortable..."
The room falls deathly silent and I smirk triumphantly when I catch the flabbergasted and slightly nauseous looks on the three kids' faces. I stick my hand out across the table, "Buffy Summers."
They look at me as if I had just morphed into the devil incarnate. It's a while before the frizzy-haired girl introduces herself, even though I already know her name.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she says. I know immediately that this is high school Willow-reborn – her matter-of-fact tone gives her away as a Scooby-researcher and bookworm. I swear if they used computers here, she'd be a hacker.
"And you are...?" I look pointedly at the redheaded boy sitting next to her.
He gulps audibly and replies, "R-Ron Weasley."
"Ginny Weasley," the other small redhead introduces.
"Wow, what is this, like the Brady Bunch? How many of you are there?" I ask randomly to the room. At least one Weasley must hear me.
"Seven, not counting mum and dad," Bill replies with a grin.
"Was she serious?" I hear a hushed whisper from across the table.
I laugh, saying, "Nah, I wouldn't come all the way across the globe just to find some action. We have enough men looking for some in California."
The three of them continue to look at me, confused as to whether I really do have a one-track mind, or whether I'm on a completely different topic. I decide to clear their heads a little. Maybe mess around a bit...
"Ever heard of the Slayer?" I ask. The two Weasleys shake their heads, but Hermione nods fervently.
"Into each generation a Slayer is born, one girl in all the world, a Chosen One,
one born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil..." she rambles.
Wow, this is like a she-Giles. Did I just think that? My face contorts in disgust. That was just...eww.
"Woah, slow down little wannabe-Watcher," I interrupt. Hermione blushes, slightly embarrassed.
"You got the right idea, that's basically what it's all about, and that's basically what I'm all about," I say.
There's a momentary pause before all three kids charge at me with questions. Through their rambling, I see a revolted Snape walk out the kitchen door, cape billowing behind him in all his pride.
Ignoring him, I hold up one hand, making the kids pause abruptly in their chatter.
"One at a time," I say, pointing to Hermione first.
"I thought Slayers were a myth, as well as vampires!" she says incredulously.
"Well...no. See me? I'm livin', breathin' evidence of a Slayer. As for vampires, well, without them, there really is no Slayer," I reply before pointing to Ron.
"Even if there are vampires, how could you be strong enough?" he asks with the same disbelieving tone as Hermione.
I always felt that it was much easier explaining strength in 'show-and-tell', rather than just 'tell'. I look around for a source, when my eye catches Bill's. I grin mischievously, and he looks slightly worried. I stand, and motion for him to do the same. He follows, but slightly hesitant.
He has a good build, and I allow my eyes to wander over him for a moment, trying in vain to push those thoughts away.
I look over to Ron and say, "Think I can lift him?"
Now, I'm at least two feet shorter than Bill, and a lot slimmer too. I catch Ron's sceptical look before I brace my hands on Bill's chest and stomach and effortlessly lift him in the air. He gives a yelp of surprise as he's being held up there, and I snigger.
I can feel my arms tire quicker than usual though, after my training session, and I put him down, much to his obvious relief. I turn back to Ron, and see a gobsmacked look upon his face. That boy has the funniest facial expressions.
"Questions answered?" I ask all three of them.
They nod in response, but I can tell they are itching for more answers.
"How about you three charming kids take me for a tour around the house tomorrow?" I ask them.
They utter keen replies, and I smile. A yawn escapes my lips though, and I give an apologetic look. Mrs Weasley is the one to usher me back to my room, though, handing me soft, maroon towels for the shower. After having a quick wash, I settle back into bed, thinking of how quickly the day has passed.
Just earlier this morning I was miserably watching the doors of the Hyperion close shut, another chapter in the life of Buffy Summers closed. This episode seems to be more promising, a new start, without the haunting thoughts of Sunnydale following me around.
But there's a gnawing feeling that's creeping out in me, something's missing. I close my eyes, and am so sleepy. Random thoughts drift through, but one lullaby echoes through the night.
Can't even shout...can't even cry...the Gentlemen are coming by...