Hell to Hellmouth

Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to have thought of these characters and become a multimillionaire because of it, I didn't, so I'm not. For fun, not profit.

Notes: I'd like to thank my three lovely reviewers: azulkan, Cristina, EllandrahSylver and spacey. Your kind words and encouragement make me feel special, and have caused me to make a quick update.

Obviously, this is AU…I'm thinking from about a quarter-way through Season Six to the end. Sound good to you guys?

Chapter 2

"Oh shit."

The hand was followed by an arm, then a shoulder and a head. Within a matter of moments, a man had dug himself out of his grave and was dusting the dirt off of his nice tailored suit. He turned to Harry, who was looking at him in awe.

"Well, isn't this just swell?" asked the man, his face morphing into a demonic visage. "Do all vampires get a free meal when they awaken, or am I just special?"

Vampire! Harry's inner voice screamed as he was frozen to the spot. Bloody hell, this is not boding well for me, is it? I can't even die right, and now this! What am I, flypaper for freakish happenings!

Harry's fight-or-flight instinct kicked in at that moment, and it was telling him to run like the wind. And, as soon as he scrambled to his feet, Harry was off like a shot, his sword strapped to his back unused. He could hear the vampire hot on his heels, and Harry knew that his frail body wouldn't be able to keep up the pace for much longer. Making it look like he fell so that the vampire would pounce on him, Harry rolled out of the way and drew his sword. Standing upright he held his sword with two hands, ready to strike.

"Ooh, lookie lookie, the rookie has a new toy," the vampire said, advancing on Harry. With one quick swipe, Harry chopped off the vampire's head.

Harry smiled slightly to himself and was about to sheath his sword again when he was faced with the business end of a crossbow, wielded by a very pretty and quite tiny blonde person. He quickly dropped his sword and held his hands up in surrender, getting the impression that this woman would shoot first and ask questions later, if he were still alive.

"What the hell are you?" she asked, zero room for argument in her voice.

"I-I don't know what you mean," Harry said, frightened. However, he couldn't help but notice how pretty the girl was. It had been well over three years since he had been with anyone that way, though, so he could be very biased. Besides, knowing his luck she was taken, or gay. Or gay and taken.

"I'll ask you one more time," the girl said, shoving the front of the crossbow under his nose. "What. The. Hell. Are. You. If you don't answer this time, you're going to meet Mr. Pointy, who doesn't like undead things."

"Here's news for you, Blondie," Harry said, getting some of his bite back. "I'm human. Stakes don't affect me. Now, what's a pretty, innocent girl like you doing out in a scary cemetery like this?"

"There is no way you're human," the girl said, though she lowered the crossbow. It was still ready to shoot at a moment's notice, but at least it wasn't pointed at Harry's face. "No regular human could take on a vampire and win."

"Guess what, Blondie, I am and I did," Harry retorted. Not the most original of quips, but it was pretty good for someone who hadn't really done much thinking in three years. He sheathed his sword before continuing. "Now, get out of my way."

He tried to brush past her, but she stepped into his path. She did it again as he tried to sidestep her from the other side.

"Okay, what do you want, you annoying pain in my arse?" asked Harry with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "Make it quick, though, I haven't got all night."

"I want some answers," the girl replied. "How about we start with what's your name and what's your business in Sunnydale?"

"As long as you give me some answers in return," Harry shot back. "Sound fair?"

The girl seemed to think about it, and for a moment Harry thought she would bring the crossbow back up. After a few moments of silence, she nodded.

"So, state your name and business," the woman said, all business.

"My name is Harry Potter, and I'm on the lookout for someone, or a group of someones who apparently need my help," Harry replied. "Unfortunately, my…err…bosses, didn't tell me who I was to look for. Bloody nuisance, that was. And they dropped me on a fledgling's grave. The nerve! Anyway, your turn. What's your name and what are you doing brandishing a crossbow at innocent passersby? Didn't your mother tell you not to play with pointy objects?"

"My name is Buffy, I'm the Slayer and my mother is dead," the girl, henceforth referred to as Buffy, said, her voice taking on a dead quality.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," said Harry. "I know what it's like; both my parents are dead. How long ago did it happen?"

"Six month or so ago," Buffy replied.

"Oh shit, really sorry…still fresh," Harry said, now feeling really bad. This wasn't good; the first person who had somewhat willingly talked to him after two and a half years probably had the worst impression of him. Must…find…subject change, Harry thought. "So, uhh…this is the Hellmouth, huh?"

"Yep," Buffy replied, putting her crossbow away. Harry took this as a signal that he wasn't on the verge of being killed and picked up his sword from the ground. He strapped it to his back, patting the handle before turning to Buffy, who was looking at him funny.

"What?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow. Buffy shook her head, as if she were trying to shake something loose, before replying.

"Nothing, nothing," Buffy replied softly, before brightening up slightly. "Come on, let's get out of here. We have to go and get cleaned up and…what in the name of fashion are you wearing?"

Harry looked down, still unaware of what he was wearing when he landed. And, as it turned out, he was in his prison garb. It consisted of an ill-fitting thin grey robe and cheap shoes that were on the verge of falling apart. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Hmmm, there are so many things wrong with that question," Buffy replied. "Come on, let's go before…"

"Well, well, well, lookit what we've got here," said man with a very distinct Cockney accent. Buffy turned around, and Harry could see her stiffen slightly as she did so. Harry was at the ready to dole out the damage, but a hand held up from Buffy made him stop. For now, anyway.

"What do you want, Spike?" Buffy asked with a tired sight. The bleached-blond man arched an eyebrow.

"Aww, don't be like that luv," he said. Harry saw Buffy close her eyes, and knew the move well; he did that every time he was trying not to punch someone in the nose. "How about you and I ditch the poufter in the dress and nip off to my crypt for a go?"

"Uh, still here you know," said Harry, waving his hand half-heartedly. "And, you know, my ears are working just fine."

"Be quiet and let the big boys take their turn, aye?" said Spike, giving Harry a pointed look before turning back to Buffy. "So, what do you say?"

"I'm saying no, Spike," Buffy replied. "Come on Harry, let's get out of here."

Buffy grabbed Harry by the hand and began dragging him away with an amazing amount of strength for someone of her size. They'd barely gotten three steps before Spike was in front of them, looking thoroughly pissed off.

"Come on, once you go demon, you never go back," he said with a smirk. I have had enough, Harry thought, irritated. This man reminded him of Malfoy, and that just wouldn't go. In one fell swoop, Harry had pulled out his sword and had it pointed at Spike's chest.

"Go away, now," he said firmly. "The lady says no, and what the lady says goes."

"Whoa, alright mate, alright," said Spike, holding up his hands in surrender. "No need to bring out the cursed blade or anything. I'm going, I'm going."

And without another word, Spike turned and left, his leather duster billowing in the nonexistent wind. Buffy looked at Harry, blinking several times in shock.

"Thanks," she said, still in awe. "Can I keep you? Please? I've been trying to make him go away for the longest time. You're the only person to have actually done it."

"It was nothing, really," Harry replied, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. Buffy arched an eyebrow at him. "What? It wasn't! It's kinda what I do. So…are we going to get out of here any time soon, or is the cemetery just the hip place to be? Because really, it's beginning to give me the shakes."

Buffy just patted Harry on the shoulder and began leading him out of the cemetery and (hopefully) out of harm's way.

Obviously, feedback is appreciated.