Chapter 13: Issues, Bonding, and Dementors oh my.
"There's something wrong with her," Willow said as she sat at Giles' new oak table. She played with the straw of her moca as she gazed up at Giles fixing himself a cup of tea.
Xander nodded his head enthusiastically. "Definitely. Our cheery Buffster has gone down the lane of gloom and into the lake of isolation. We've sent out a search party but she ain't responding."
Giles rolled his eyes at Xander's drama. It had been two weeks since the incident with the Master and the Sunnydale students were to be back in school in another week and Harry would return to Hogwart's the week after that. It would seem strange not to have his nephew in their new flat. Since their talk the day after the Master's ascension, his relationship with Harry had been steadily growing and they had fallen into a type of routine. Harry had even expressed his desire to return during the Christmas and Easter holidays, something Remus had told him, Harry had never done with the Dursley's.
The werewolf had taken Harry back to England to obtain the school supplies he would need for next year and to pick up Ron and Hermione who would be spending the weekend with Harry and Giles. Remus would be searching for his own apartment here in California as the permanent connection between the Order and Giles. He'd be flitting back to and from England, introducing Harry's bodyguards to Giles and making sure that the Watcher gave his approval. The Watcher had already met with one, a young witch by the name of Tonks, who Harry had immediately given Giles the sign of approval.
Meanwhile, Buffy had been over nearly every day to train. Her dedication had taken on a morbid persistence and Giles always came away from the sessions feeling disconcerted and off kilter. He had easily identified Buffy's new sense of duty. The Slayer's attempts to forestall facing what had happened to her the night she had died were failing and she was searching for something to cloud her mind of the truth just that much longer. Giles was waiting for the moment where she'd let the truth hit her. He just hoped he was there when it happened.
Sitting himself at the table, he arranged his tea in front of him. "Buffy has been through a traumatic event, she's likely to experience a sort of depression because of it," he explained. "Given time I'm sure she will return to her previous self."
"Isn't there any way to help her?" Willow asked.
"Not unless she wants to be helped, Willow," Giles answered gently. "Trust me. At the moment she's hurting, but it won't last forever." He tried a soft smile. "It's what you American's refer to as 'issues'." He took a sip from his tea, eternally grateful that Remus had smuggled some authentic English blend into him. "If it will make you feel better, I'll have a talk with her. But I'm afraid that we are bound by Buffy's clock. "
"Then we should probably let you and Harry continue with the manly bonding," Willow said before slurping up the rest of a her moca.
Giles cleared his throat. "Actually, I have a bit of a favor to ask you two. Harry's bringing Ron and Hermione over with him tonight and I was wondering if you could show them the town, what little there is of it, while Buffy and I train."
"All quiet on the Hellmouth?" Xander asked.
"Quite. Buffy and I have made several patrols and have encountered little save snogging couples," Giles answered wryly. "I'm scarred for life."
Xander gaped at him blankly. "You face the spawn of hell, but a macking session weirds you out?"
Giles gave him one of his don't-be-ridiculous-Xander looks. "In any case, if you could do this for me, it would leave an opportunity for Buffy and I to talk one on one. I'm afraid Harry's been dominating the bulk of my time. I've been searching for a spell that might permanently keep Voldemort out of his mind."
"Why don't we just fireplace over to England and sick Buffy on this creep?" Xander asked, indicating Giles' new and recently connected fireplace. "It sounds right up Buffy's ally."
"It's not the Slayer's position to take," Giles informed stiffly, partly wishing that it was, the other part wanting to cut out his traitorous heart. If only he'd been born with the magic needed, he could save both his charges from their horrid destinies. "Buffy is only meant to destroy those that have no conscious, no possible way of experiencing good from evil. Vampires feed without thought, it is nature to them that cannot be changed without the presence of the soul. Buffy just releases the body from the demons control. Voldemort is a different matter. On the whole, he is still a human being with soul."
"But what about Amy's mom?" Willow asked. "She was a Witch and Buffy fought against her."
Giles nodded. "Of course, she is meant to bring any human to justice, but I'm afraid that Voldemort won't go that simply. It's up to Harry to stop him."
"You know what I've decided?" Xander asked philosophically.
"Hmm?"
"Life sucks," he uttered downcast.
Giles smiled over his cup of tea. "Very astute."
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'You can never escape me,' the Master's voice whispered inside Buffy's head, soft and insinuating as a whisper of smoke. 'You killed me and I'm still with you.'
Buffy shivered, trying to block out the morbid thoughts that had been trailing after her since she had destroyed the Master. She wondered if his demon essence could be clinging to her, a sign that he would bring hell in any form he could find. She almost imagined he could fell his cold dead fingers pressing around her throat....
She grabbed the hand resting on her shoulder and stuck her hip out, using it as a balance to throw her opponent. Giles landed on the floor with a back-crunching thud, the air rushing out of him in one huge blast. His glasses sat off kilter on his rugged face as he gazed up at her with a mixture of concern and pain. He always wore protective pads but Buffy's strength was only dimmed by the layers of cotton.
Adjusting, his glasses, he staggered to his feet. "I think that's enough training for now," Giles gasped in between breaths.
"I'm still good," Buffy countered, rolling her arms like a pinwheel. "Maybe I should go for patrol."
"Buffy, I think that's hardly necessary. Everything has been quiet..."
"We don't know when that will stop, Giles. People are going to die if I don't watch out for the mean and nasty uglies," she said. "What if tonight the bunch of them just go, 'hey, I feel like a blood kegger'?"
Giles snatched his glasses from his face and began to polish them on his shirt tail. "As you're Watcher, I'm ordering you to return to your house."
She snorted, she actually laughed, and the moment froze in her heart. "You're going to stop me from patrolling? You who spouts duty and honor like it should have been on Sesame Street."
"Buffy, we need to talk," Giles said, firmly, ignoring her accusations.
Pushing her hands into her blonde hair, she shook her head. "No, you need to stop being the hypocritical Watcher. This is my life."
"Just listen to me for a moment," Giles tried to calm her with a soothing tone. But he didn't know, couldn't guess the spirit that constantly stalked her.
'He can't save you,' the Master's words returned in her mind. 'He is weak and you are strong and yet still I remain. There is no one who can save you.'
"Giles, I really don't want to do the little heart to heart, unless it involves a stake, okay? Hey, here's an idea, you can go spend time with Harry," Buffy offered heatedly. She didn't want to talk about this, didn't want Giles hovering over her like a father. Because that was exactly what he wasn't. A father protected their child, didn't send them off to die.
'But he tried to stop you. He was going to go in your place,' a rebellious part of Buffy's mind reminded her.
"This isn't about, Harry," the Watcher argued.
"Oh, come on, Giles. Harry's all you care about anymore," Buffy said, liking that she had this bit of leverage over him now. Now that he was on the defensive she could avoid the truth, the fear that gripped her.
Except now, Giles looked both offended and hurt. "I have never shirked my duty towards you, Buffy."
"Well, maybe you should shirk," Buffy answered.
Giles sank down onto the couch they had pushed out of the way to give them room for training. "Buffy, I know facing the Master was difficult for you."
"You know? You know? How could you possibly know? Did he kill you while I wasn't watching?" Buffy snapped these questions off with a staccato high-pitched tone. She saw Giles' wince of pain. He was supposed to watch after her.
"You're right. I don't understand, you need to explain it to me," Giles insisted. "Buffy, you can't keep this locked inside or it will eat at you. Believe it or not, I want to help."
'Help,' she wanted to scream at him. She had already turned Angel aside, Hank Summers was in L.A. pretending she didn't exist, perhaps Giles could really help her. But this cold, this impenetrable cold seemed to be forever wrapped around her. It whispered to her of death; not only of her own, but of all those she had failed to save. In her minds eye, she'd repeatedly seen Merrick place the business end of his pistol into his mouth and pull the trigger, forever sealing his lips against revealing the identity of the Slayer to Lothos.
"Giles, I can't," she muttered softly, tears at the edge of her voice. "Cause if I do, then it was real, it was all real."
Buffy decided that then would be the best time to make her retreat, when Giles was fighting with what to say next. She dashed out of his new apartment, running at the full speed of a Slayer. The cold night air wafted past her face, brushing her hair back in waving locks.
'You cannot run from death,' the Master's voice echoed in her mind.
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Ron and Hermione sat next to Harry, eyes wide as they took in the loud, flashing atmosphere of the Bronze. They had dropped off their school supplies at Uncle Rupert's, Hermione's bags easily outnumbering both Harry's and Ron's put together. Buffy had arrived with that painful cheerfulness that Harry had felt strike him straight to the heart, and Xander and Willow had whisked he and his friends off in a hurry. The Sunnydale High School students were now picking up a round of Cokes for the wizards and witch, courtesy of Uncle Rupert.
"This place is wicked," Ron shouted over to Harry as the band began to rift into another song.
Hermione frowned at him. "It's rather loud."
"Well, we're not going to be studying in here are we?" Ron asked pointedly, then nudged the brilliant witch with his elbow. "Lighten up, 'Mione. We're in the States, blend in."
Hermione and Harry snorted. They had been forced to pull Ron away from the bands speakers due to the wizard-born boy's fascination with it. Hermione had feared he had blown out his eardrum when he'd taken to addressing everyone in a loud voice, even when the band was on break. Xander had assured her that it was only concert-ear and that in a few hours Ron would be fine.
"This isn't my idea of exploring American culture, Ron," Hermione said in a cavalier tone.
"There isn't much else to do around here, Hermione," Willow said, as she and Xander returned with the Cokes. "Buffy's mom has an art gallery though and it's really cool. She's got pieces from all over the world. We can take you there tomorrow."
Hermione's eyes had gone from being slightly exasperated to utterly delighted and Harry realized that it would be incredibly difficult to keep Willow and Hermione apart. Ron and Xander both looked as though they were about to groan with pain.
Xander held up his hands as though to offer surrender. "Back the bus-of-crazy-fun up, Will. You're going to overwhelm our guests. You'll have to introduce them to Willow-fun gradually."
Willow scowled at him and threw a napkin at Xander's grinning face. "Xander!" she chided with a giggle. Perhaps, spending some time with Hermione would give Willow a bit more confidence. The redheaded girl always seemed so timid.
Of course, Xander was incredibly blind not to see how much Willow cared for him. Even Harry, who considered himself the least great authority on women, could see it. The way her hazel eyes adored him, it rather made Harry want to slap Xander aside the head.
"That would be wonderful, Willow. If it wouldn't be too much of inconvenience," Hermione answered smartly.
"No, it'd be great. Maybe we could even talk Buffy into tagging along, sort of a girls night," Willow started to ramble.
Hermione smiled and glanced at Ron and Harry imperiously. "Well, it would be nice to have some feminine company."
"Hey," Ron stuttered offended. "I take offense at that."
"Yeah, I'm full of umbridge," Xander agreed, passing a feigned glare at Willow.
Harry put his head in his hands and shook it disparagingly and groaned.
Xander looked questioningly at Willow and received a confused shrug. "Long story?" Willow ventured.
"One I would like to erase from all public acknowledgment," Harry replied, eyeing his friends and thinking of Sirius.
His godfather had not dwindled from his thoughts, but when his mind did turn to Sirius it wasn't as painful as it had been the previous day. Was it wrong for him to heal from that pain after everything Sirius had risked for him? Part of him hated himself for not feeling that pain but another part of him liked to look back at Sirius and not just see that dark day, but the good times he'd spent with Sirius.
The guilt was still there; sometimes striking him like a knife to his belly, but given time he was sure that even that pain would dull. Right now it was a continual cycle of feeling content, guilty, and then saddened.
Returning to England and the wizarding world had caused him to realize how much he would miss this little haven. Albeit, there was the occasional apocalypse and his uncle was the guide to the warrior who fought against it, who happened to be a sixteen-year-old girl. But here, he could just be Harry Potter. No need to save the day, of course he had helped as best he could without braking the Underage Law of Wizardry. He doubted that Fudge would be so lenient with Harry a third time, regardless if he realized Voldemort had returned.
He would miss the anonymity of Sunnydale and the time he'd spent with Uncle Rupert. And it was one of the few times that he wished not to return to Hogwarts, though his uncle had insisted that he continue his education when Harry had mentioned being tutored by Professor Lupin. It was all to easy to forget about Voldemort hear, with the two drops of blood that were temporarily sealing the dark wizard from his mind. Back at Hogwarts he would soon have to deal with the truth of his destiny and prepare to face Voldemort.
"So let me get this straight," Xander was saying, as Harry returned his mind to the conversation. "You guys go to school in the fall and don't come back home until the summer? You live there 24-7 and your teachers are around all the time?" The boyish features of the other boy were arranged in a mask of tragedy. "Something has to be done about this. The public must be alerted."
"It is a boarding school, Xand," Willow reminded humorously.
"It isn't all that bad, mate," Ron assured him.
Hermione smiled her encouragement of Ron's statement. "It's really very stimulating."
"Uh-huh," Xander said in that deadpan voice he did so well. Harry couldn't help but think that if Xander, Fred, and George had been introduced the world would no longer be a safe place.
"Besides you seem to spend a lot of time in the library, Xander," Harry quipped.
Xander shrugged. "My home's way scarier then anything the Hellmouth can spit out."
Harry was startled by this statement. It was said in jest, but Harry could hear the truth in Xander's words. A distinct tone, that he'd heard in his own voice when talking about the Dursleys. Suddenly, he felt a certain kinship with this foreign boy.
"Xander is the only person to spend that much time in the library and still avoid ever cracking a book," Willow said, jibbing him with a finger. "Unless, of course, it's a demon text."
"Which funnily enough, isn't as grueling as my chemistry book," Xander was there with the punch line. "Demon text, an art unto themselves. No one truly appreciates them any more."
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Buffy had stopped running and had settled inside a quiet graveyard, sitting under a tree with a grassy knoll, waiting for the undead to rise. It was a warm night but she shivered under her leather jacket, feeling as though something was looking over her shoulder. She closed her eyes against the images that were playing in her head and listened for the slightest stir of the earth and the rebirth it gave to the demonic world. Tears had built up but had never spilt over her lids, leaving them feeling salty and sticky.
If there was a crack of a stick or the ruffle of trees she could almost believe someone was following her, but there was nothing, not an out of place sound at all. Just the slightest tingle at the base of her neck that told her something unreal was breathing down it, waiting for her to drop her guard.
"You're getting paranoid, Buffy," she chastised herself, brushing aside a lock of errant blonde hair.
She stood up from her perch of green grass and began to wander through the graveyard, the agitation of not being able to see her pursuer was edging her to move, to act. She wrapped Angel's leather jacket around her more tightly. The cold only seemed to writhe it's way though the animal skin and to her tiny frame quicker.
She stopped walking as she found a freshly dug grave, one that she'd been guarding for two weeks now. She'd seen him rise in her dreams, seen him walk towards her and finish what he had started two weeks ago by dipping his fangs into her sensitive skin and draining her of her life's precious blood. This is where Giles and others had buried the Master and had sanctified his grave. But despite her Watcher's precautions, dirt was unearthed and the gaping hole just below her gaze was empty.
The Master was no longer at rest.
Buffy's heart turned to ice even as it beat harder against her rib cage. Slowly, her every nerve alert, she backed away from the defiled grave. The cold was encompassing now, raking harshly through her lungs as she gulped for air, her eyes wide with fright. Her dreams had whispered this to her, had tried to warn her that he was coming, but she hadn't wanted to believe it.
Her feet froze as she became as cold as the world around her and every step was like walking through the mall on a sale day. She stumbled and feel into the soft ground below her, a wet warmth soaking through her jeans. Tossing her gaze from side to side, she sought for anything that might help her stand but her sight was beginning to cloud like a frosted window.
Just as she passed out, she saw a dark form rush her.
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"The dementors have been sent to Sunnydale, m'lord," Petter Pettigrew, the traitorous rat explained as he knelt before his dark overlord. His sniveling voice, squeaking as he relayed the partial success of Voldemort's plan. "But they are ignoring both Potter and Giles. They have found something more tempting to feed upon."
"Wormtail, your continual blundering is causing me to reconsider your loyalty to me," Voldemort hissed out. "I need that Muggle barrier down and I need it down now, Wormtail. Potter will be inaccessible once he reaches Hogwarts. Now what are you going to do about this little debacle you've placed us in, my loyal Death Eater."
Voldemort had sent the dementors in the hopes of either bringing Potter or his muggle uncle down to an unconscious state. But dementors were poor followers opting to feed their rapacious hunger then to obey the Dark Lord, and apparently latched themselves onto another filthy muggle soul, feeding off their terrible memories.
It had been surprising news to the Dark Lord, when he had entered Potter's mind and had learned that he indeed had family outside his mudblood mother's sister. This Rupert Giles, as Pettigrew had identified him, was some sort of mystic with an ability of magic that Pettigrew did not know.
Apparently, James Potter's older brother had been involved in a dark magic and the wholesome Potter's had thrusted the young lad out of their lives. Whatever this squib had in power had managed to knock Voldemort from Harry's mind and had kept him out ever since. The dementors had been a quick remedy to the problem, One that had been foiled by the downtrodden life of some muggle scum. From what Voldemort's spies had gathered, she was just a young girl, hardly worthy of his attention let alone that of the dementors.
"What would you have of me, m'lord?" Pettigrew squeaked, his pinched face nearly buried in his knees.
"I thought it would be obvious, Wormtail," the Dark Lord answered in a cold and sensuous voice. "I think it's time that Mr. Giles be reunited with his brother, don't you?"
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Angel didn't have time to think, didn't have time to pause, he rushed forward towards Buffy and scooped her into his arms. He could not see the beings around them but he could smell them. A horrid stench that went beyond the grave. It was not that of blood or decaying flesh, but of despair. It tickled the vampires nostrils.
There was more then just their adverse affect on Buffy and the mental images of decades of slaughtering their mere presence seemed to increase that made Angel push himself to beyond all his limits. It was as though something was trying to suck out his heart from his chest and yet had come up against a rock wall. They were attempting to pull out his soul, he realized. The part of himself that distinguished him from all other vampires, that distinguished him from the monster he'd once been.
He had one advantage. Whatever these things were, they weren't used to dealing with vampires and his demonic strength was his and Buffy's saving grace. He closed his eyes out against the memories of Angelus' rule in his body and pumped his legs towards Giles' new apartment.
The Watcher would know what to do to save his Slayer.
Despite the distance he'd gained from the creatures, Angel did not slow. If he could smell them, he feared that they in turn could track him. Mounting the stairs in giant leaps, Angel pounded the door with his fist, sniffing the air for any scent of their invisible foes.
"Come on, Giles, be home," he muttered, cradling Buffy in his one arm while continuing his vigorous pounding.
It was Remus Lupin that answered the door. "Angel?" he questioned, his eyes darting to Buffy. "What happened?"
"Is Giles home?" Angel snapped, ignoring the werewolf's question.
"Rupert," Lupin cried out towards the stairs.
Giles came lumbering down the stairs with a cold compress at the small of his back. He nearly stumbled down the bottom set of stairs when he saw Angel. "What is it?"
"Invite me in," Angel demanded.
"Come in," Giles said without hesitation and Angel barreled past Lupin and into Giles' living room. He set Buffy gently on the couch, arranging her head on one of the throw pillows.
Giles was at Buffy's side examining her. "How did this happen?" the Watcher questioned without accusation.
"I'm not sure. She was fine one moment and then she was unconscious," Angel answered, his gaze fixed on the reposed features of the Vampire Slayer. "She hasn't been herself lately and I've been sensing trouble. The demon world has been too quiet for too long. So I've been following her. There was something out there, Giles. Something not nice."
"Did you recognize it?" Giles asked, rising from the couch and walking to his new study.
"No, I couldn't even see it," Angel answered, following him, Lupin on his heels.
Giles paused, searching Angel's face. "Then how?"
"I could smell them," the vampire continued. "They weren't human, whatever they were. I couldn't hear a blood beat nor the wisp of breath. And the images I saw in my mind..." he trailed off building up the walls to those memories. "Terrible reminders. Of my past."
"It's a wonder you didn't pass out," Lupin entered into the conversation.
"You know what they were, Remus?" Giles asked.
"The worst kind of magical creature," the werewolf answered. "A dementor."
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"We better head out," Harry said, glancing at the clock over the stage. "Uncle Rupert will probably be getting anxious about now."
Hermione saw his smile. "I see things have improved."
Harry shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I almost feel bad that I don't feel worse."
"Because of Sirius?" the clever witch asked.
Harry nodded. "He died to save me and I moved on as though he didn't even exist."
Hermione gave him an understanding look. "He died because he wanted to give you an opportunity to be happy. That's all he cared about in the end, Harry."
A feral chuckle sounded behind the group of five friends. "This is almost two easy," the now recognizable features of a vampire, muttered to his much larger group of friends. "Five little mortals."
"Remember we only need the redheaded girl and the boy with the scar alive. The rest are fodder," another said, his yellow eyes glittering on Willow. The American girl backed into Xander's arms.
Ron looked over at Hermione with a hopeful glint in his eye. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked in a tremulous voice.
"Vampires," Harry answered for her.
Swallowing, Ron nodded and pulled out his wand. "You know a spell to kill them, right 'Mione?"
"Well...," Hermione started.
"What do you mean, 'well'?" Ron accused.
"You know, we generally run at this time," Willow stated. "And get the Slayer."
Harry cocked an eyebrow at his two best friends. "I diversion, do you reckon?" His wand came out to join Ron's as did Hermione's.
"What did you have in mind?" Hermione started.
Harry shrugged, trying to show that same nonchalance he'd seen Buffy display the first time he'd see a real vampire. "First DA lesson. We knocked out Snape with it." He waited for recognition to dawn on their faces. "On three."
"One."
"Two."
"Tonks."
"Ignus," the Auror shouted and a ball of fire about the size of a man's two fists put together shot out from the end of her wand, barreling through the ranks of the vampires.