Halloween cheer suffused the dining hall. Jack o' Lanterns lined the tables, their variety of facial poses lit up by candles that bordered the entire room with an orange glow. Dumbledore had pushed the tables back against the wall once again, allowing plenty of room for dancing and socializing. Orchestral music filled the whole space, its invisible source known only to the faculty. Not everyone was thrilled with the setup, of course, but they had been too polite to let Cordy come alone, and at least they had some shadowy corners to linger in.

            "All these kids can do spells. Unbelievable. We do see some grade-a whack stuff," Gunn muttered, resting his weight on the end of one table.

            "It certainly helps with their costumes, doesn't it?" Wesley replied. A few of the students stuck with authentic clothing and makeup, but most of what he saw had to be finely crafted illusion. One student, male or female he could not tell, had gone so far as to take on the appearance of a monstrous gorilla. The detail involved in the design, Wesley was certain, would have made Charlton Heston sit up and reach for a weapon.

            "I like it," Faith said. With a tilt of her head, she drained half a mug of mulled mead. "That's the point, right? Be who you're not? Yeah, I can definitely dig that."

            Angel half heard them, leaning as he was on a table to their left, buried in shadow and completely in brood mode. His eyes had quickly locked on Buffy, who had yet to even acknowledge his presence. The sight was far from comforting. She looked tired, her complexion pale and her affect completely depressed. She hung listlessly at Giles' side, not engaging in the revelry at all. From the stiffness in her Watcher's posture and his frequent glances her way, Angel knew that Giles noticed it too. She didn't look anything like the Buffy he remembered. The spark of life she clung to so fiercely seemed virtually dead.

Angel had never seen her that way before, like she was simply too tired to go on. She hadn't looked that way a few hours earlier in Sunnydale. Standing in her living room waiting for Willow to play taxi, Buffy had been tired but chipper, excited by the prospect of seeing Willow and Xander and Dawn again. But almost from the moment of their arrival, her spark seemed to fade. She seemed like she had just chosen to let it fade the moment they arrived at Hogwarts.

            Or, he thought with sudden alarm, like someone had drained the spark from her.

            He pushed away from the table and marched across the room.

            "Buffy looks like hell," Grey said, handing Willow a glass of punch. She barely noticed as she took the glass and drank a sip; from the furrowed brow and vacant stare, he could feel her trying to figure the change out.

            "She wasn't like this a few weeks ago," Willow commented, talking as much to herself as him. "She was fine when they brought Dawn here. She sounded fine the week after that, on the phone. The last two weeks, though, I call her and it's all 'Hey Will," she let her voice trail off into silence at the end of the second word, "then nothing. She's usually not quiet Buffy unless something big is wrong. Even this afternoon, she was quiet but she looked way better than she does right now."

            "What did Anya say?"

            "She hasn't noticed anything, but, hello, it's Anya."

            "And that means?"

            "Anya notices Anya, and her money, and other stuff, too, but she's not so much with the perception." Willow turned, looking into his eyes with serious concern. "You know what I think?"

            "What?"

            "We shouldn't have taken away Dawn and Xander."

            "Except that the 'creepy bloody robe guys,' as you so accurately described them, were after the Key."

"Okay, sure, minus, but we should have left Xander. Something's doing this to her, Grey. I don't know how I know it. I just do. And without them there, it's like, Buffy's connection-less. There've been so many times where Buffy's tried to push us away because she's the Slayer, and we're, you know …"

            "Not?"

            "Right. She's the Slayer, and we're the Slayerettes. She needs us for more than just backup. We're her, y'know, her anchor."

            "Maybe you are," said Grey, "and maybe she is anchorless. Or maybe it's something simpler," he added, nodding at the dark figure of Angel cutting across the dance floor, his black coat billowing out behind him. "Maybe she's just lonely."

            "Uh uh. I know lonely Buffy. She's full of energy and looking to hit things with pointy wood. I mean, y'know, she's got the pointy wood, not the things she's going to hit have it …"

            He grinned. "I know what you meant, hon."

            "Oh. Well, good, then. But, um, I think someone's about to find out what's going on anyway," Willow said tentatively, her eyes tracing Angel's path and settling on his destination, "so shutting up now."

            "Angel, hi, I …" Angel cut Dawn off with a rough bump, knocking her aside and not bothering to apologize. She fell backwards into the waiting arms of Cordelia.

            "Whoa, rude much? I thought I had that boy trained better," Cordy barked angrily. Her vampiric boss ignored her.

            "What's got him so riled?" asked Hermione, stepping through the doorway with Ron, Harry, Ginny and Neville close behind.

            "Dunno," Ron answered for the rest of them. "Mus' be somethin' important. Say, you guys see … oh, there they are." He lifted his right arm, matching Fred's greeting across the room.

            "Your brothers?" Dawn said eagerly. "Fred's coming, right?"

            "He's there, with George an' Angelina, she's the black girl with Fred. The girl with George is Alicia. They're Gryffindors from Fred an' George's class."

            Dawn's eyes widened as she saw Fred's arm wrapped around Angelina's waist.

            "But they're just friends, right?"

            "Yeah, a'course," Ron said, taking no notice of the near-panic in Dawn's voice. "The girls are nutters for the two of 'em. Damned if I know why."

            "Wait, so they're … Fred and that girl are …" Dawn's hand involuntarily went to her mouth.

            "Dawn?" Hermione turned a concerned look on the younger Summers girl.

            "They've been dating for awhile," Ron confirmed, "since way before they graduated. Not steady or anythin', but sort of off and on. Mum thinks they'll get married, but I don't – "

            Hermione had just enough time to elbow Ron before Dawn spun and raced out of the room.

            "Mione, what the hell … hey, where'd she go?"

            Neville had his back to them already. He had seen the expression on Dawn's face. "I think," he said over his shoulder, "that Dawn fancied your brother, an' she didn't tell any of us, an' she didn't know about him and Angelina." He looked back at Hermione. "She's probably right embarrassed, don't you think?"

            Hermione nodded, wishing suddenly that she had brought up the subject of Neville after all.

            "You should go see about her," Neville added. This time, Hermione shook her head.

            "You go, Neville. I know you want to."

            That brought questioning looks from the rest of the gang.

            "I-I don't think so, Hermione. I don't think it's appropriate."

            "Well, I do, Neville Longbottom, and if you don't, she's going to be sitting out there by herself, because I'm sure not going."

            Suitably intimidated, Neville stuttered out a sentence fragment, then gave up and left.

            "What's that all about, then?" Ron asked.

            "Neville likes Dawn," Ginny said offhandedly, looking around for the refreshments table. She saw it and dragged Harry off before Ron could reply.

            "Don't you say anything, either, Ron. You know how embarrassed Neville can get." Hermione glared at him for good measure. He nodded vigorously, and the two of them followed after Harry and Ginny.

            Angel's knuckles cracked loudly on Spike's pale jaw.

            "What the hell are you doing, Peaches? Sod off." Spike shoved the older vampire away. A few drops of whiskey slopped from his flask onto his hand. He licked them off, meeting Angel's eyes behind his hand.

            "What did you say to Buffy?"

            "Nothing. Not a bloody thing, dammit!"

            On the ground, even more hidden by the shadows than Spike, Sirius let out a warning bark in Angel's direction. Remus offered a more direct solution. Angel suddenly felt the wood of a wand dig into his neck.

            "Might I suggest that you not hit him again?"

            Angel's eyes flicked to Remus. His powerful sense of smell caught the scent of werewolf; a low growl rumbled in his throat.

            Spike smirked and took a pull on his flask. He was starting to enjoy life at Hogwarts. Even if Lupin was a bit uptight for his tastes, he and Black made quite the pair.

            "Now kids, that's no way to behave at a fiesta like this. Easy big fella," Lorne said, steering Angel back several steps with his left hand. His right held a glass of fizzy orange liquid. He took a careful sip and sighed with contentment. "This is good stuff, I'll tell you that much. What do you folks call it again?"

            "Looks like a Bubbly Creamsicle," Lupin replied, pulling his wand back a bit.

            "Delish. I'll have to talk to somebody about exporting it. But anyway, Angelcakes," he patted the vampire on the shoulder, "I didn't come over here and restrain your surly behind just to talk about my drink."

            Angel shrugged his arm away and glared.

            "No, I came over because I don't need to hear the music to know that your little blonde thing is a wee bit upset."

            "Ya think we couldn't see that, ya scaly ponce?" Spike asked.

            "Shouldn't you be over there finding out what's wrong?" Lorne's expression made his suggested answer very clear.

            "Not when he's the one that caused it," Angel said. "I think he should stay put."

            "Hmm…" Spike tilted his head to the side, "lemme think. Nah. That's what your poofy ass would do. An' I didn't cause it, you wanker, I'm only over here 'cos she made it clear she doesn't want me near her tonight. 'Course, now that I think on it, I don't usually leave her alone when she tells me to, do I, Peaches?" Spike stowed the flask inside his duster, then shrugged the coat off and dropped it on a table. "You boys stay here, then. I'm gonna have me a dance."

            Spike couldn't see Lorne's approving smile as he stalked off, but he could picture the angry look on Angel's face. It gave him an approving smile of his own.

            The first haunting strains of a slow song came on just as Draco felt the tap at his shoulder. He turned to look; the sight made him jump back a foot and a half.

            "GAH … Bloody hell!" The hairy hand of a massive gorilla fell away from him, then gestured towards the dance floor. "You … you want to dance?" he said, bewildered. "You're … um, a bit tall and ape-like for me, mate. Sorry."

            The illusion shrunk before his eyes, matching his height exactly. A hairy palm took his hand, but it didn't feel hairy. It felt soft and feminine. The gorilla leaned down and whispered in his ear.

            "Dance with me."

            Draco recognized the perfume before he recognized the voice; he allowed himself to be led out. The two of them settled into a slow, weaving rhythm. Across the floor, he idly noted that Spike had taken the listless Slayer into his arms as well.

            "We're dead if we get caught, you know," Draco whispered, his mouth next to the hairy ear. He couldn't believe he was letting her do this.

            "We won't," Mel whispered back. Her chin rested on his shoulder, allowing her scent to waft straight up into his nose and tease him delightfully. "I'm dressed as a leprechaun and right now I'm in the loo. Nobody knows. I wanted to thank you for what you did the other day, with Nott and everything. It was really brave."

            "S'not much of a thank you when you're in that outfit."

            "Must you be such a pillock, Draco Malfoy?"

            "What d'you think, Norton?"

            She could feel him smirking. "I think you're a good man hiding behind an evil surname, Draco. I think I have more than every reason to hate you and you keep doing things that make me like you. And," she added, resting her lips directly on his ear, "I think I'd like to thank you for them in a more private place."

            "You can't be serious."

            "You're not interested?"

            "Of course I'm interested. That bloody scent is enough to drive me insane. But there is the small matter of my, hmm, death at the hands of the Slytherins? Remember our little conversation about Granger? The same things are true for you, Norton."

            "My name is Melissa."

            Something about the way she said it, soft and seductive and sultry all at once, made him turn his head a fraction and look into her eyes. Much later, Draco would recall that as his biggest mistake.

            Because the second he saw the desire in her blue eyes, he was completely hooked, and worse yet, he knew it.

            Buffy hung limply in Spike's arms. She hadn't said a word, not even when he came up and asked her to dance. She had just stood there like a rag doll: totally unresponsive.

            "C'mon, Slayer," Spike said, "work with me here. I'm doin' everything but hold you up."

            "Whatever," she slurred sleepily.

            He stopped dancing and took her chin in his hand. He forced her to look up into his eyes.

            "Buffy."

            No response.

            "Buffy!" He shook her jaw a little. "What's gotten into you?"

            "Stop it," she said weakly. He moved his hands to her shoulders and violently rocked her back and forth. She didn't do anything except stare at his chest. He hefted her into his arms and carried her off to the side of the hall, where he proceeded to shout angrily at her. She still didn't respond.

            "Spike, you're causing a s-scene. Let her go," Tara said, coming up on his left side with her wand drawn. Jess did the same on his right, and Willow and Grey came up behind Buffy.

            "Something's not right here." He let her go; she started to topple over, but he grabbed her shoulders again just in time to stop her descent. "Glinda? Red? You guys …"

            Tara waved her wand and said "Deprendo veneficium."

            A blue glow appeared around Buffy's body.

            "Damn," Jess muttered.

            "What does blue mean?" Willow asked.

            "T-tethering," Tara said. "She's tethered to something. A … a place, maybe, or an object. That's why she's been getting worse all night, because she's been away from it for too long."

            "Oh my," said Dumbledore. When he saw Tara's spell take affect, he had hastened over with Giles and McGonagall in tow. Both of the other professors eyed the glow around Buffy warily. "I believe we should get her home immediately."

            "Of course," Giles agreed. "She must be tied to Sunnydale somehow. It has to be him. He must need to keep her there."

            "Him?" Willow asked.

            "He touched her the night we got the nibblet out," Spike said, meeting Giles' eyes for the first time. "He'd need that for a spell o' this power, plus it'd take time to incubate. Saw a witch do somethin' like it back – must've been in the thirties."

            "Who?" Willow asked again.

            "Yes, indeed, and of course he would have to finish it afterwards. It must not have been complete when she came bef-"

            "WHO?!?" Willow shouted, turning heads across the room.

            Giles' stern stare backed her down. "That is not a discussion for this time or this place. We have not explained the situation in Sunnydale to you completely, Willow, nor am I about to do so now, in this dining hall, where anyone could hear. Is that understood?"

            Properly rebuked, Willow nodded. Grey rested a comforting hand on her shoulder and felt the first trembles of anger.

            "Tara?"

            "Yes, G-Giles?"

            "Take Buffy home, please. Hopefully the effects of the spell will abate shortly thereafter."

            "I'm goin' along," Spike said.

            "I'll take you," Jess offered. "If there's trouble with the spell, I can back Tara up on the magic."

            "Watcher?"

            "Go. All of you. But be careful. He could be waiting on the other end. And Spike?"

            "Yeah, Rupes?"

            "You'd best fill the girls in on everything when you get there."

            "Buffy, too?"

            "No, I think not."

            Spike nodded and lifted Buffy off the ground. He cradled her like a baby as he led Jess and Tara to the nearest fireplace.

            Giles turned to Dumbledore. "I think it's time we explained things to the others, Albus. I have a nasty feeling that events are about to take on a life of their own."

            "I agree, Rupert. Angel and his companions have been briefed in already, correct?"

            "We know what we're up against," Angel confirmed.

            "Then perhaps you could stay here at the party? If we all depart at once it will arouse suspicion." Angel nodded. "Excellent. Minerva? Please find our special group and tell them to discreetly slip away and change back into their school robes. We'll meet in the library in half-an-hour. Also, I think we could use Severus' opinions as well."

            "What do you want us to do?" Grey asked.

            "I think it would be best if you did the same as the students and joined us in the library." Seeing the angry red blotches on Willow's face, Dumbledore added, "Willow, please understand, we were keeping these things from you for everyone's safety. Particularly Miss Summers."

            "I understand, but that doesn't mean I like it."

            "No, dear, I don't imagine it does. You will, however, like the truth far less."

"HALT!"

            Sir Cadogan's sword flew from its scabbard.

            "My lord is not about, and I daresay, sir, that if he were, he would not take kindly to an approach by a scoundrel such as you."

            "Incredible." Ethan leaned down to inspect the painting. "A tiny, living knight in a painting, and employed as a doorman, no less. That is terrific."

            "I say, sir, how dare you insult me in such a manner? I am hardly a doorman. I am the guardian of this realm. Why, legends and tales have been sung in my honor at the tables of the mightiest kings!" Sir Cadogan waved the sword menacingly. "I will have your tongue for this!"

            "You're sure this is that Grey guy's room?" Amy undid the drawstring on a small leather pouch.

            "This is the one. And as for you, good sir knight, the password is cinnamon."

            Cadogan shouted at the top of his lungs. He dredged up curses lost to the annals of history, nearly turning the air blue in the process, but his cries were drowned out as the door swung open. Ethan and Amy stepped through, the latter glancing around disdainfully at the toys lining the walls.

            "Oh, this is just perfect, my dear. Grab me a few extras, will you? Our new friend will need some help."

            As Amy pulled a few random figures from the shelves, Ethan lifted the squirming Grindelwald doll and laid it on the floor. He carefully laid out a pentagram with red sorcerer's sand. The doll rested in the exact center, where it could draw energy from all five points of the star.

            "I think these are all bad guys. Any ones I wasn't sure of, I left." She handed Ethan ten action figures.

            "Splendid." He laid all ten out in the center of the pentagram. Then he looked up at Amy and smiled. "Now then, my dear, shall we have a little fun?"