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A/N wheeeeee! Reviews!!! Err, there is a BIT of fluff here. But it's not clouds-sugar-candy-fluffy-bunnies type fluff, it's kinda dark and evil-y and passionate without being about the s-e-x. I don't write smut, you see. : ) sorry all the pervs out there, but EW go read another fic! This one's relatively clean. Please review!

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Quentin Travers sat in his chair. He was at the head of a large, glossy oak table at the Watcher's Council Headquarters in London. The old man sighed deeply and reached for the crystal shot glass that held his scotch. Sipping the amber liquid reflectively, and leaned back and rubbed a hand over his weathered face.

"Well, gentlemen, I don't think we're going to be needed for a while," he said tiredly.

Lord Roberts shook his grey head, puffing on a cigar. "A slayer gone bad. I don't think there's ever been a record of this before."

Rupert Giles frowned and leaned forward, bringing his features into the light of the lamps. The light illuminated wrinkles on his face that had definitely not been there last time he had been in London. But that was a different time. That was before his slayer went wrong.

It had certainly affected him. He was beginning to look older, tireder. Presently, he cleared his throat. He took off his glasses and polished them on his handkerchief.

"Well, now, that's not true. There have been two."

Wesley Wyndam-Price nodded. "In the 1600s, and more recently in the 1860s. I don't remember who they were, though."

Giles looked downcast. "They were both witch/slayers, as I recall. Turned afterwards," he said gruffly.

Wesley pursed his lips. "Do you still think it was…appropriate to send the current Slayers to that school for witchcraft? I mean, it's not as though they are witches as well, but still."

Giles glanced up. His gaze was penetrating. The man was quite hardened these days, and brooked no argument. "I trust Dumbledore. The Council is not equipped to deal with two rogue Slayers. They will be controlled and rehabilitated in that school. I am thankful, however, that they are not witches."

Travers leaned back in his chair, and took another sip of scotch. "Quite. The results of another witch/slayer would be quite catastrophic. If either Miss Summers or Miss Morgan were a witch, I'm sure we would have lost them for good by now."

Next to him, Roger Zabuto looked down, picking up his tea. "Like I lost my Kendra," he said quietly. "She was my slayer, but now she's gone for good. At least Giles and Wyndam-Price may have their slayers back one-day. I will never see mine again."

There was a brief silence to honour the poor girl killed by her sister-slayer, that Summers girl.

Wesley bowed his head. "Consequently, the Sunnydale authorities have begun an inquest as to what happened. The police had Faith, but were quite caught off guard when Smith and Weatherby arrested her on behalf of the Council, and have started a search for all three. They stopped after the funeral. Apparently, Mr Allan Finch didn't have many people there, only the Mayor bothered to turn up. The Mayor halted the investigation for some reason."

Lord Anthony sat across the table, and frowned, tapping an elegant finger on the polished oak tabletop. Now, why would they be so hard to rehabilitate if they are witches as well? Wouldn't that be an added advantage to the battle against the dark, a slayer being a witch?"

Sir James had been quiet up until now, where he shook his head vehemently. "Gods, man, no. That is far too much power for any individual to have. Slayer abilities in the first place are cloaked in darkness. That is where the power stems from: evil. For a slayer to practice witchcraft as well…" he faltered, and took a breath in contemplation before continuing.

"Let me just say that the occult is difficult to understand and control at the best of times. To have two powers at once would be a cocktail of metaphysical energy. To put it bluntly, the arcane magicks together are unstable. The two girls in the past who were both witches and slayers both turned evil. That's two out of two."

Giles drained his cup of tea. "I think I should call Smith and Weatherby, see how they're handling Faith," he mused to himself, and strolled out of the room.

Lady Wydeville, the only woman Watcher in the Council meeting, nodded at his departing back absently with her gaze focussed on Sir James. "Ah yes. I think I remember. Do you recall the names of those two girls?"

Sir James puffed on a cigar in thought. "Drusilla Edith and Darla de Montfort," he said haltingly. "I'm not quite sure. It's been a few years since I read their Watchers' diaries, though I based a thesis it."

Lord Roberts' eyes widened. "Of course! I'd clean forgotten. Drusilla and Darla, they were half of the Scourge of Europe."

Silence fell over the table at his exclamation. Uneasiness was written on everyone's face. Several pairs of eyes swivelled in the direction of the door, where Giles had just gone.

No one was eager to mention the Scourge after what they had done to Giles. Apparently, Angelus had murdered the woman he loved, and tortured him for hours. Giles just wasn't the man he used to be anymore. He was much more…bitter, and cold. When Travers had seen him again, after his second slayer went bad, he thought Ripper had returned. The members of the Council had all gone to the pub when Giles told them that all four master vampires had finally been slain.

Lady Wydeville bit her lip, putting down her teacup with a chink. "Well, I was always a bit concerned about Miss Morgan. She always seemed…loose. Wesley, how was she when she was taken by the Retrieval Team? Remorseful? Do you think we are going to have any luck getting her back, fighting?"

Wesley swallowed, and took a deep breath before answering. "She seemed quite irrational. Screaming and shrieking, raving all the while."

Lady Wydeville persisted. "But did she seem repentant? Did she say she was sorry, or it was a mistake?"

Wesley looked down. Slowly, he shook his head. "She…sh-she laughed."

This was greeted by another silence that lasted a few seconds before several voices spoke.

"But…laughed? Surely she…"

"This is no joking matter. How could she?"

"Perhaps she was crying."

"Maybe she was - "

They were all cut off by Travers, who banged his fist on the tabletop. "Order! Order!" he barked over the voices. Then, he turned to Wesley. "Surely there is some explanation. Do you think Faith did it on purpose?" he prodded, his gaze steely.

Wesley shrugged helplessly as Giles entered the room again. The older Watcher cleared his throat.

"Well," Giles began haltingly. "She actually seemed quite unaware of what was happening. Talking nonsense the whole time, she was psychotic."

There was a gasp at his words from somewhere along the table. Lord Anthony puffed furiously on his cigar. "Psychotic?" he echoed. "As in…unaware of what she did? Could do it again?"

Giles shook his head, and starting polishing his glasses again. "I really can't say."

Sir James's booming voice reached him. "Damnit, man! Is she a threat? Is she dangerous or not?"

Giles sighed. "She's not a witch. That means there must be hope."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A week had elapsed since Harry and Buffy had gone off to the astronomy tower to make out, and already they were revered around Hogwarts as the new couple.

At first, there had been a lot of controversy. Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend, was enraged that he was going off with a Slytherin. Hermione wasn't even speaking to him any more. When she had walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day, she just went really quiet. She had asked to talk to Harry privately. Buffy had still heard the conversation, though, and had watched from behind a doorframe.

"You've really changed, you know?" Hermione had said. "You used to be this really cute, shy guy. A friend to everyone, and adored by all. Now, you're just so…different."

"How?" was his sharp reply.

"Well…you dress differently, for one thing. I mean, the - "

"I'm sorry if my wardrobe has upset you," he said amusedly.

"And," the girl floundered for words. "You talk differently, and you just don't seem to care about anything any more."

"Oh I do, do I?"

"Yes! You act like you're…better than everyone else. Like you're always analysing us, and you're amused by everything we say. It's patronising. You're just so contemptuous. Why the change, Harry? Is it…is it me?"

Buffy had strained to hear what happened next. Harry sighed, sounding disappointed. "Look, Hermione, I'm surprised. You used to be so bright, but you're just not getting it."

Hermione had stood there, dumbfounded for a few moments. Her eyes started to slowly fill up with tears. "But…y-you're my b-best friend, I…"

"Shh, shh, it's okay," he had said sympathetically, "We all make mistakes. But next time, I hope you'll know better."

Hermione frowned. "Mistake? I…"

Harry smirked sarcastically. "Go find a book, ducks. It'll help with the pain." With that, he had turned around abruptly, walked towards the door, grabbed Buffy and kissed her passionately right in front of the brunette. She had run off in tears.

That was six days ago now. Buffy had discovered that Harry was a classic romantic, with an ardent sense of fun. Dark, expensive, extravagant. All deliciously fun. He was the type of guy that most girls dreamt about – suave, yet (as the British say) 'roguish'; passionate, yet cryptic. Two days ago had been the first Hogsmeade trip, and he had taken her to a romantic restaurant, and given her a single red rose.

Buffy was delighted when he gave them to her. He had smirked and woven the rose into her hairstyle for the night, saying that it was nothing compared to her beauty. Harry was always lavishing her with gifts and attention. He made her feel…wanted. Okay, adored.

Presently, Buffy grinned against Harry's lips, and slowly pulled away from his kiss.

"Okay," she said, "Where are you taking me?"

Buffy almost heard the smirk. "I can't tell you, Buff, it's a surprise."

She laughed. "Come on, please?" her fingers inched towards the red silk blindfold obscuring her vision. Not that she really wanted to take it off. Being unable to see made her rely entirely on Harry. It made her feel vulnerable, and he obviously knew that as well. He was taking full advantage of the situation, which he had planned himself, and was guiding her through the castle.

Quickly, Buffy felt Harry reach over and clasp her hand to prevent her from undoing the blindfold. "No, no. Naughty. Be a good girl, love, or you won't get your present," he scolded gently. He brought her hand to his lips and started to kiss her fingertips, one hand holding hers to his lips, his other arm tightly wrapped about her trim waist.

Buffy bit her lip and pouted like a little girl. "I'll be good. I promise to eat my vegetables," she grumbled.

Harry chuckled triumphantly and swept her up into his arms, kissing her passionately. He swung her around, eliciting squeals from his girl. He put her back on her feet and kissed her forehead. "Good. We're here," he said in that deep voice that kept Buffy awake at night.

She breathed in and leaned back against his muscular chest. She put an arm behind her head and cupped his cheek. "Do I get to see yet?" she asked.

He chuckled and untied the red silk blindfold. Buffy felt the smooth, sensual material slide over her face and gasped when she opened her eyes.

An captivating scene lay before her. She was standing in the doorway of a large room. On the floor were training mats, and gloves and punching bags. What enchanted her was the weapons.

Harry had taken Buffy to a room full of weaponry! Every wall was adorned with all types of weaponry. One wall specialised in archery: there were bows, longbows, crossbows, and arrows of all types. The second wall was all about blades. Buffy walked closer and examined the numerous daggers, knives, scythes and swords; the metal blades were all gleaming as the light from the torches and candles hit them. The next wall was a display of maces and hammers and clubs (including the infamous spiked ball and chain club, the Swiss Morningstar), and the fourth wall was…weird. Buffy had to admit that despite her expansive knowledge of weaponry, she had no idea what that wall held.

"Oh, Harry," she gushed. She felt him approach from behind and wrap his arms around her waist. He dropped a kiss onto her shoulder.

"Does my slayer like it?" he teased.

She closed her eyes. She bit her lip in rapture and turned around. She rose up onto her toes to reach her much taller boyfriend, giving Harry a passionate kiss. "I love it!" she exclaimed. She kissed him again. "This is so…thoughtful. You must have spent a while planning this," she accused, delighted.

He smiled down at her. "That's not all I planned," he said cryptically.

Buffy's brow furrowed. "What else, then?" she questioned. "'Cuz I gotta say, you can't get much better than this."

Harry smirked. "Oh, really? I thought you should be able to…utilise this room as best you could, so I arranged this." He took her arm and pushed her outside again.

Buffy pulled a face. "And why is my being outside gonna help me 'utilise'?" she asked confused.

He grinned and pulled out his wand. He pointed at the doorframe and muttered an incantation. The door glowed purple. Then, he put the wand back in his robes and gestured for her to enter.

She shrugged and walked through the door into the weaponry room again. as she passed the doorframe, she paused.

There was something running through her. It felt like electricity, without the unpleasant crispiness of an electric shock. No, it was…energy. Pure energy was running all through her body, from head to toes. She shuddered. It was invigorating, powerful, energising. She felt her self being gently lifted off the ground, and laughed aloud. This feeling was wonderful!

With a jolt, it stopped. She dropped back to the floor inside the room. But part of that feeling remained. Buffy stood and flexed her muscles. She felt stronger, faster, like she had much more energy. She grinned. "Did you just do what do what I think you just did?" she asked Harry, who was watching.

"Restored your slayer power? Yes, actually. I did." He said with no small trace of arrogance. Buffy, unable to contain her delight, whooped loudly and gave him a huge kiss.

He pulled away and held her at arms' length, examining her. "Funny," he said. "You don't look very powerful. You're still kind of…small," he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Buffy gave a smirk. "Oh, really," she commented dryly. "Wanna try me?" Harry grinned

"Damn straight."

In a whirl, Buffy pushed him away and pulled off three consecutive backflips, arriving at the wall full of knives. She grabbed two daggers and flung them with deadly accuracy at Harry's heart. She watched with bated breath as they soared through the air.

That'll show him how powerful I am, she thought excitedly. But then, as if in slow motion, she noticed that he wasn't moving. He wasn't even trying to duck them. She felt a sick feeling build in her stomach. No…he was going to get hit. A thousand thoughts were running through Buffy's mind in a fraction of a second. Her heart contracted. Not again. Not again. She didn't want to kill another person she cared for. Not that she had killed Kendra in the first place. No, no, no, no, NO!

Buffy felt her heart stop as the blades reached Harry's chest. Barely blinking, Harry's arm whipped out of nowhere and grabbed both daggers by their points mere inches from his heart.

Buffy gaped. "Holy…crap…" she whispered. Then, she got louder. "God, Harry! I thought that was going to hit you! You had me so worried."

She ran over to him and gave him a bone-crushing hug, which she was quite capable of, now that she had her slayer powers back. "How did you learn how to fight?" she asked, her face buried in his robes.

Harry laughed and began to stroke her hair. "Had you worried, did I?" he teased. "I did a lot of martial arts when I was with my muggle family." Buffy noticed that he seemed quite disgusted when he was talking about his family, but she let it go.

"Harry, thank you so much. I love you," she said.

He produced another rose for her. This one was black. "I love you too, princess. You're my Black Rose," he said, before leaning down and kissing her neck.

Not just any part of her neck. He was kissing the scar left by the Master on her jugular vein. She groaned and closed her eyes. He bit down hard, and she smiled indulgently.

Life in rehab was looking better everyday.

Half an hour later, they realised that it was time for dinner. They walked down together to the Great Hall, marvelling at the storm that seemed to have started outside. On the way, Harry was talking to Buffy about something else he had found in his translation of Vampyr.

"It was talking about something called 'Memoria di Quattro,' which means Memorial of the Four or something. I'm confused, because there were only two witch/slayers. Weird, huh."

Buffy pulled a face. "Yeah. I don't know what they're on about."

They had just entered the Great Hall hand-in-hand when there was a huge clap of thunder, followed by a big boom. The whole school looked around wildly, before realising that the boom was coming from the large oak door of the Entrance Hall.

The school looked though the Entrance Hall at the door. Another boom, and the door creaked open. Hagrid stood at the doorway, and he looked a mess. There were cuts all over his face, and one was bleeding quite viciously. He walked in backwards, pulling something.

The students craned their necks. Whispering broke out through the Great Hall. People were standing on their chairs to see what was happening.

Hagrid walked in a few feet, and three figures walked in after him. Two men, in black trenchcoats. Buffy froze next to Harry. She knew those men – Weatherby and Smith. Watcher Retrieval Squad.

But they seemed preoccupied with the third individual. A girl around Buffy's age, but taller. She was a brunette dressed in dark leather clothes.

The girl was kicking and screaming and laughing loudly, inflicting pain on the giant and the two Watchers. She was raving loudly, and seemed quite the lunatic. Buffy felt the back of her neck prickle. The girl had a strange aura…familiar somehow. Certainly, she had a lot of power.

Dumbledore stood quickly and walked out to the Entrance Hall, closing the door behind him so that the student body in the Great Hall couldn't see what was happening. Buffy took Harry's arm.

"Come on," she hissed. "Those were the bastards who took me here. We need to see what they're doing!"

Harry nodded mutely and swung her around in the opposite direction that she was headed. She looked at him. "What are you doing? I wanna see!"

Harry shook his head and led her swiftly out of the Great hall. "If we go that way, the rest of the school will too," he corrected. "Best take this way, it's a secret passageway."

After a few moments, Buffy found herself staring at the strange girl, the Watchers, Hagrid and Dumbledore from behind a stone statue. She could hear perfectly what was happening.

Dumbledore was talking urgently. "What happened now? What does the Council want me to do?"

Smith's cockney accent filled her ears. She hated the mere sound of his voice. "Another Slayer gone bad. This is Faith Morgan, she was Called after Kendra."

Dumbledore paused. "What did this one do?" he asked in a hard voice.

"Killed Allan Finch, a civilian. Never even met him before." There was a sudden curse as the girl – Faith – reached out and kicked him viciously in the face. Buffy nodded. Nice technique, even roundhouse kick. This slayer was a good fighter.

"Bleedin' hell. She went like this immediately afterwards." Weatherby continued. "She just started ravin' and laughin'. She's totally gone. Insane."

There was a shocked pause. Then Dumbledore answered. "I will try to help her as much as I can. May I ask, why hasn't she been subdued? Where is the tranquilliser?"

Smith swore again. "We've given here enough tranquilliser to knock out the Huns. She was responding for a while, but just recently it doesn't seem to be working. She's beating up anyone who she doesn't like. Summers was out with only two shots, but this one's been given twenty or so in the last half-hour and none have worked."

In the shadows, Buffy paused. She turned to Harry. "Umm…that spell that restored my slayer powers…did you cast it all over the school grounds?"

Harry blinked. Then a mischievous smile crept on his face. "Oops."

Buffy smiled. There was a howl as Smith was thrown across the room, and Buffy's smile turned into a malicious grin.

"Oh, boy. Another Slayer? This is going to be interesting."

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A/N I'm so sorry if this takes a long time to reach everyone, but my internet connection has died somehow.