Note: This chapter was written slowly (as the rest of my updates are really slow) as I haven't been feeling great lately. I'm still working (against protests, mind) and each day is a battle. But I'm fighting this day by day and doing the best I can. Grace, I owe you much for being my backbone on this story. Al, I owe you tons for cheering me up with your own fantabulous storytelling abilities.
Chapter Summary: The traitor in Bulgaria faces the wrath of a scorned Watcher; an American Slayer faces her fate in the same school that nearly destroyed her sister Slayer; the boy-who-lived faces life knowing that the world he fights to save is falling apart; in her dreams, Buffy faces a frightening proposal and learns the truth behind her life-changing injury…
Warning: This is the last of the dark, action-type chapters… for now.
Chapter 12
A Light in Dark Places
Part III
x-o-o-x
"And wrath has left its scar -- that fire of hell has left its frightful scar upon my soul." – William Cullen Bryant
"I'm sorry… but are you Elise Potter?"
Buffy froze, her hand halfway to a tray of chocolate bars that looked to die for. Instead, she withdrew her hand, pasted a smile on her face and whirled on her heel to face a young woman in a shiny silver dress smiling brightly at her. "Do I know you?" she asked politely, folding her arms tightly against her chest.
"You used to," the girl said, disappointment flashing in dark eyes. "We went to school together years ago… we used to be friends. I'm Cho, Cho Chang." The girl stepped forward and offered her hand. Buffy, against her better judgment, returned the gesture. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
"I'm sorry I don't remember you," Buffy said honestly. "I mean, my head…"
"Yes," Cho said sympathetically. "We have all heard about the accident, Ellie."
Buffy paused a moment, tilting her head in thought. "Ellie?"
"Someone we know in common used to call you by that blasted affectionate name," Cho said with a small, fond smile. "I guess over the years it has just… stuck. Anyway, I came over here to offer my congratulations. It isn't everyday that one of us gets engaged to one of them." Her eyes flickered over to Cedric who spoke with an older couple, looking both gracious and humble. Buffy felt a smile tug on her lips at the expression of kindness on his face. Everything about him seemed to warm her even more.
"Well, well, what have we here?" a slightly accented voice asking in a teasing tone.
"There you are," Cho said in an annoyed voice. Buffy turned her head from her fiancé to look at the newcomer. One arm had wound around Cho's waist. The other held a champagne flute which Cho took with relish. "I'm sure you remember—"
"Ellie, right?" the man asked, clearing his throat in an embarrassed manner and moving slightly away from Cho, who sighed. "I know it's been about a year since—"
"Who are you?" Buffy asked in a confused voice. The man seemed so familiar to her and yet she couldn't quite seem to figure out who the heck he was.
"It's Oliver, Elise," Cho said, coming up beside the young man and grasping him by the shoulder.
"I think I know you," she murmured, glancing curiously up at the young man, who smiled slightly. There was a pained look in his eyes that made her stomach clench. Her heart ached at the white line around his mouth. He reached out to touch her but after a moment pulled away.
"I'm glad you're recovering," he said in a quiet, dignified voice.
Buffy struggled not to let her disappointment show, but she knew she couldn't fully hide it. Cho's eyes widened with curiosity when the blonde looked away. "It really is great to see you both again," she said, not looking at either one of them. She was trying to figure out what to do when an arm wrapped itself around her waist and she felt something press into her shoulder.
"Now, now, I hope you kids are playing nice," Cedric said playfully, looking at Cho and Oliver who were uncomfortably standing next to one another. "I hope you don't mind if I excuse us, but we really need to make the rounds."
Oliver had bristled when Cedric had stepped up, but Cho stopped him from moving by placing her hand to his chest. "You can take her, Cedric," she said coolly. As Cedric pulled the blonde away, she turned in irritation to Oliver. His shoulders sagged when he saw her expression.
"I'm sorry, love," he said, leaning over and rubbing her shoulders lightly. "You know I can't stand seeing what he's done to her. If that bloody bastard hadn't come into her life—"
Cho struggled to hold her tears down as she realized what he was saying. "She never would have been shot," she said softly. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she felt the tears glisten in her eyes. "And she never would have turned her back on her friends."
"Least of all you," Oliver said snappishly. "I probably deserved what I got from all of this."
Cho just looked at him tearfully for a moment before moving away.
As Buffy was swept back into the crowd, she felt the strongest sensation that someone was watching her. Turning her neck slightly, she saw Cho and Oliver staring morosely at her from the dessert table. But her gaze swept over to a single figure in the crowd. Wearing a long, black coat with pale hair pulled back from his face, cold silver eyes met hers. She shivered into Cedric's side and quickly glanced away. She felt those cold eyes following her across the room. All at once, she did not feel safe. She didn't feel anything except the cold, dark chill that terrified her.
x-o-x
Giles fell, panting, against a thick trunk of a tree. Heavy rain drilled on him. He glanced at his wet, muddy clothes. He had been stumbling around for God knew how long in this horrid terrain in the middle of a thunderstorm. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by the growing rumble of thunder. The mansion was well within plain sight now. He pushed himself forward again, convincing himself that Buffy was in danger and that his Slayer needed him now more than ever.
What he didn't count on was stumbling over something hard. He fell onto his face, his glasses falling into a muddy dip in the ground. Reaching through the mud, he removed his glasses and sighed, pushing himself to his knees. His blurred gaze swept back to the thing he had tripped over and suddenly he felt as though he had stopped breathing.
A figure was lying against a tree with her back to him. Her back was bloody, a pool of blood running rivulets down to the muddy dips.
"Irene?" he asked quietly, stepping over the figure. He reached for her face, which was cold. Her eyes were slightly open. As he moved her head she suddenly gasped out loud. Giles moved back, bending down to a crouch as he examined the extreme injuries. She looked like she had been stabbed over and over again in the abdominal area. Seeing the small, ornate dagger to his left confirmed it. "Irene?"
"The boy… has gone… after the girl… betrayed us all…" she rasped, coughing. She lifted a blood-soaked arm to her abdomen as she continued coughing, streams of blood flowing down her pointed chin. "Was just trying to help," she moaned, falling into the tree.
"Easy, Irene," Giles said comfortingly. "Easy, now."
"Rupert," Irene said, glancing blearily at him. "He said… you were dead."
"I'm quite alive and I'm quite here," he replied quietly, his fingers pulling away the material of her blazer and wincing at her injuries. He knew that she would bleed to death certainly, but the daggers had done their job by allowing her die in the most painful way. "And you?"
"I know what's going to happen to me," Irene said, closing her eyes against the pain as she weakly struggled to sit up. Giles quickly helped her against the tree as she clung to the large roots helplessly. "I know I'm going to die," she continued in a whisper. "But that girl…"
"She's a Slayer and she can hold her own," Giles said softly as he removed his soaked, muddy blazer and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders.
"That girl must live, Rupert," she said, reaching forward and grasping his hand suddenly. "She is the future. If she dies, the boy will die. If he dies, our world will end."
"I will do everything I can to protect my Slayer," Giles said in a comforting voice. He heard the hitch in her breath and knew her end was coming. "I will kill him if necessary."
"Can you do that?" she asked him softly, her eyes widening despite her unbearable pain. "Can you take a human life?"
"My Slayer killed a man because he destroyed everything that she stood for," Giles replied.
"No, she didn't," Irene sighed, closing her eyes again and struggling to catch her breath. "She didn't kill him… at all…"
"What are you saying?" Giles asked. "She killed Quentin Travers in plain sight of Faith, the other vampire Slayer."
"Quentin Travers didn't die, Rupert," Irene said, turning her head to look him in the eye. "He lives…"
Giles sat back on his heels, struggling to understand what this meant. Buffy's basic exclusion from the magical world had been because she had taken a human life. But the man she had driven through with a sword hadn't died at all. He was still alive, meaning that his Slayer had spent the past six months suffering for nothing.
"Rupert…"
He turned to the weak voice calling his name and reached for her hand, holding it as she struggled to breathe and, once she couldn't take a breath, she passed on. Rain rolled down her face, washing away the blood.
He sighed heavily, standing up and gazing at the mansion. His eyes searched his surroundings. Night would soon come… and he knew what he needed to do.
x-o-x
Rain rolled down the window panes at Hogwarts. Harry stared longingly outside at the muddy yards before wrapping his cloak tighter around himself and strolled the darkened hallways. Hermione was a few paces behind him, uncharacteristically quiet. The Head Boy and Head Girl were walking the halls of Hogwarts to check for students caught out-of-bounds by the new rules. Hogwarts was basically under lock-down since the attack at the Ministry of Magic that morning. He turned and glanced with concern at the figure standing behind him. Hermione was standing still, the rain reflecting in her dark eyes.
"All right, Hermione?" he asked casually.
She didn't answer. She stared out the window and sighed, turning away. He longed to go to her, to hold her… but his own senses called him back. She was hurting. They were both hurting.
The Ministry of Magic had been attacked that morning and hundreds of Ministry employees were dead or missing. Buffy, his own sister, was in a coma after being wounded and thus far they had not received any additional news. Anything they had hoped to hear was lost in the Ministry attack.
Hermione and Ginny in particular had been shaken to hear the news of Buffy's personal attack. They had grown close to the Potter girl, called her a friend and considered her as a member of their house. Watching Ginny be in pain was hard enough, but to see Hermione shed tears was mere torture. He had forced himself to walk the corridors alone and, after Ron had basically begged him to, he had pulled Hermione along with him with the intent to cheer her up.
As always, he was doing a fantastic job.
"Hermione, there was nothing you could have done," he said quietly, appealing to her sense of logic which seemed to have flown directly out the castle.
Still, she did not answer. Feeling frustrated, Harry sped up out of Hermione's sight and sighed. How was he dealing with the pressure of learning the one organization capable of putting Voldemort to rest had basically been desecrated? He was trying to comfort his friends. He was hurting himself. He felt as though something painful had twisted in his gut. The Ministry which he had always counted on as being there, like Dumbledore, was gone. His sister, who he barely knew, was gone. His friends were slowly fading. Ron was pale at learning that his father and brothers had been trapped. When he learned the news of Bill's death, he had withdrawn to the seventh year room and had not yet come back.
Ginny had stormed tearfully from the Gryffindor common room when she was told of Bill's death. Professor McGonagall had just closed her eyes as she rolled her scroll, promising them that they would receive updates as soon as available.
Harry felt empty inside. He had always admired Bill. He had been the cool brother, the one that seemed so unlike the others. And now a life that was so bright and so fresh was gone. Others had died, too. There were parents of Gryffindor students that had been killed. His heart went out to the Wood children when they were told their parents were still missing. He knew that Oliver Wood would return upon hearing the news that his parents were likely dead.
He turned the corner of the corridor and stopped. A single figure was standing near the Entrance Hall, talking to someone. He blinked and moved closer. He could have sworn the figure was Faith. For a moment, he couldn't believe it. But as he moved closer, the figure stopped talking to Professor McGonagall and turned back to look at the figure approaching them. Her hands clenched into fists but soon relaxed as a familiar, pale face came into view.
For a moment, they just stood there, staring at one another.
For a moment, Harry thought he couldn't breathe. Just when he felt that so much had been taken away, she was there standing in front of him. Her face wore the obvious signs of fatigue. There was blood smudged on her clothes and face. Her skin was pale and her eyes were bright. She was obviously hurting over something. He half-wondered if she knew anything about what had happened to Buffy.
"Faith?" he asked tremulously, pleading that this wasn't some shadow.
"Harry," she said, not smiling. She moved towards him. Moments later she was in his arms. He felt everything break down as he held her. He felt her cling to him. His bones began to crack at her effort. Moments later he heard her quiet cries. His hand moved up to touch her blood-splattered hair. "Shh," he whispered soothingly into her ear as she continued to cry. Something really upset him seeing his Slayer act like this. She wasn't supposed to cry. She was supposed to be witty and mouthy and call things like they were. To know that Faith had been shaken by all of these events unnerved him entirely. "Shh…"
"I'm sorry, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, appearing suddenly behind Faith. "But we must speak with Faith now. She has… been through a lot this day. Her blood alone could open the seal the Death Eaters placed on the Ministry."
Harry nodded, his fingers absentmindedly trailing down her arm and tracing the outline of the reddish mark on her arm. "I understand."
Her face softened as Faith pulled away, wiping her eyes. "I'm so sorry, P," she chuckled in an embarrassed sort of way, stepping back towards the Deputy Headmistress. "I just kind of fell apart there."
"It's all right," Harry said in a comforting voice. "My shoulder is there for a reason, Faith."
She gave him a dark half-smile before turning to trail off behind Minerva McGonagall.
At the end of the hall, Hermione watched the exchange as what remained of her heart felt like it was breaking further. Pressing a hand to her eyes, she pressed her back against the cold wall and felt her own sobs bubbling to the surface.
Deep in the dungeons, a single figure read from a black letter delivered to him by his owl not ten minutes before. Draco Malfoy opened the letter with flourish but froze at the opening line. Most of his classmates had grown bored of the lock-down and had gone to bed. He couldn't really blame them. If he had been able to sleep, he would have followed them. Instead he remained awake, a book on his lap and the darkest feeling in his soul.
This letter confirmed his darkest fears: his father had been involved in the attack at the Ministry. This letter was a call to all Slytherins to rise up against the likes of Dumbledore and all who supported him and destroy the foundations of Hogwarts by bringing the school to its knees.
The prospect of doing so a year ago would have been delicious. He could just imagine throwing Harry down a peg or two. He could see himself at the top of school, spitting on all the Gryffindors who had gotten the best of them all of these years. He could see the Mudbloods being expelled and being left in the street as worthless peons or, better yet, serving the pure bloods as servants. It was a beautiful prospect.
It wasn't as tempting anymore. The thought of turning the school into his own personal playground sickened him. Was he to act like his father by achieving these means to an end by committing murder? Draco knew he was incapable of murder. He wasn't like a Slayer or anything.
How could he not do as his father asked him to? He was a handsome young man with a great load of power, prestige and gold. He could have great impact on the things to come. But the letter was written all the wrong way. Ripping it to shreds, he cast it in the fire before throwing caution to the wind. He would risk being sent to detention by the likes of someone like Potter or Granger by walking around the corridors that night.
What he didn't expect to see was a figure sitting near a staircase lost in the shadows. His eyes widened and then narrowed suspiciously when he saw the tiny figure of Ginny Weasley sitting on the floor sobbing her heart out.
"What's wrong, Weasel?" he asked maliciously as he made to stride past her.
Ginny lifted her head from her arms and glared hatefully at him. "Go away, you pretentious snake," she snapped angrily, wiping away her tears.
Something inside of him snapped. Part of him wanted to put her down in the cruelest, harshest way and take pleasure in that broken, crestfallen face. The other part of him longed to listen to what was on her mind and do something useful for a change.
"What is it?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Her eyes narrowed and she sniffled loudly. "Like you care," she said, her voice rising in volume.
He reached inside his pocket and drew out his handkerchief, flinging it at the distraught girl. "Then forget it," he replied coldly. "I was just offering to listen, you know. It wasn't like I meant to insult you." As he moved away, Ginny stared at the handkerchief sitting on the floor near her feet for one moment before she felt herself doing something against her better judgment.
"My brother was killed today."
Draco froze and turned around, seeing Ginny clutching his hankie to her eyes which had started to leak again. "What?" he asked quietly.
"Like you don't know," she spat out, getting to her feet and storming towards him. "Your Daddy had this planned from the beginning, didn't he? He hates my family that much to go after them? He wanted to kill them all that badly?"
"I… I didn't know," Draco stammered. "I… I'm sorry."
Ginny's jaw was set as she glared up at him. "You would have been there by Daddy's side, wouldn't you?" she accused, her eyes narrowing further. "You would have been there at his side ordering the deaths of all of those he considered friends. Do you know what your father is, Draco? He's a traitor. He betrayed this government and he betrayed you. Yes, Draco," she said, smirking at the look on his face, "your father stuck you and your mother in this mess all for the sake of his sweet Dark Lord. Do you want to know what is going to happen to him once he learns that the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is likely responsible for what happened to Harry's sister?"
"What… what happened to his sister?" Draco asked blankly.
"Didn't you hear?" Ginny asked humorlessly. "Buffy has been attacked in Buglaria. She's in a coma. She's dying."
"What?" Draco asked incredulously.
"That is what your father did. Are you proud of him now… dragon?" Ginny asked snidely as she slipped past him, running up the stairs and into the night. It was all Draco could do not to follow her. Anyone in the path of her anger tonight would need the extra protection.
x-o-x
St. Mungo's was normally a quiet place where healers treated specific cases one by one when they came in. They hadn't seen such activity since before the war. When the news came that the Ministry of Magic had been attacked, all staff that was off-duty was recalled and measures were taken to ensure that they would have enough staff to deal with the pressures when they came.
They weren't ready to deal with this.
Staff poured into corridors and through doors, gurneys passing from one end to the other. The lobby was quickly filled with concerned family members awaiting news despite the Ministry's statements that all families were to remain in their homes and wait to be contacted by a Ministry representative.
The number of wounded soon thinned out as the dead bodies started appearing. A temporary morgue was set up after the doors leading to a shop next door were blasted. The abandoned store soon became filled with bodies and those moving around in the attempt to identify them. Voices shouted frantically back and forth. Those injured were treated and quickly pushed out to make way for the next.
Tonks sat on a small table as a healer tapped at her arm. Stretching her fingers, Tonks felt her arm was fully healed and thanked the man for his time. He barely murmured a response before he was on to the next person. She moved out of the way and stepped into a crowded hallway, trying to find a familiar place. She saw healers kicking at the wall in the attempt to free up more space for the wounded. She heard people shouting as they marched down the corridors, yelling the names of their loved ones.
Tonks didn't remember being rescued. They had been found in their corridor by a grim-faced Remus Lupin. He had helped her over to someone else before turning down to look at Wesley.
Wesley! Tonks wondered what had happened to him. But even as she wondered, she came across a gurney with his sullen figure heaped on it. "Wesley?" she asked quietly, slipping clumsily between two gurneys and glancing down at his pale face. "Are you okay? What did they say?"
"I've been here for more than an hour," Wesley grunted through clenched teeth. "Can they not see I'm in obvious pain?"
Tonks sighed and looked around, grabbing the arm of the first healer she saw. "Can you please help this man?"
Cynthia turned as a woman with brilliant purple hair had latched onto her arm and was begging her to treat a man in obvious pain on the gurney she was wedged against. "I'm sorry," she shouted back, pushing the woman's arm away. "I'm not qualified to help him. I will try and find someone to help you though."
Someone shouted her name down the corridor and apologizing again to the woman she took off running.
"What is it?" she asked another woman down the hall.
"We need help upstairs," the woman replied, shoving a box into Cynthia's arms. "These are images that were taken from the bodies. Could you put them up? Hopefully someone can recognize these victims. Maybe send a copy to the press too."
"Right," Cynthia panted as she stared at the numerous photos in the box.
"Go!" the woman shouted, turning back to her task of opening up yet more space.
As Cynthia ran, she ran past a pair sitting on a gurney staring morosely around them. Emma Vance was quiet as she stared at her feet while Percy Weasley fretted about, complaining loudly that people weren't moving fast enough. Emma knew he wanted to get back to the site of the disaster to offer what assistance he could and she admired that quality of leadership he had been sorely lacking before today. But she wasn't in the mood to gratify it.
Down the hall, a single figure stopped a gurney and reached for the pale arm on the stretcher. "Look at this," a man hissed to his partner, holding the cold arm up and shaking it. The Dark Mark was barely visible but it was there. "A Death Eater… one was actually killed in this attack?"
"Look at her face," another man said, touching the cold face of the dark-haired woman. "Blimey! I wonder if that's old Bellatrix. You know, the one that escaped a few years back?"
"It does sort of resemble her," the man muttered as he continued pushing the gurney on. "We best get this one to the morgue."
Arthur Weasley stood in the lobby, using his own Ministry power to ask the hundreds crammed in between the four walls for their patience. He saw a woman frantically putting pictures up on a blood-spattered wall outside in the attempt to help people identify the ones that had died. Aurors were showing up on scene now to help with crowd control, paving a path for the gurneys to roll down the corridors without interference. Arthur was rather relieved when Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared, looking dark and sour.
"Bad luck, this," he said in a tired voice to Arthur who moved to speak with them. "Is there anyone from the administration left?"
"We haven't seen any bodies," Arthur replied quietly. "But my son is still alive."
"The one with the ponytail?" Kingsley asked in that low voice of his.
"No," Arthur sighed heavily. "The other one. Once he has been treated, he will likely take charge."
"Can I see your ankle, miss?"
Emma glanced down at the Healer bent next to her knees, gazing at her wounded ankle. Emma stared thoughtfully at it, almost forgetting that she had been injured by the Inferius as she had tried to escape the elevator cage. "It was an—"
"Inferius, I know," the Healer replied softly. "We have seen quite a few of these injuries. They're bloody and gory and some are untreatable. We will do all we can to save your ankle."
"Please," Emma whispered.
When she looked up, she felt as though her heartbeat was thundering in her ears. A figure was rolling painfully by, a stunning figure that was part-Veela and all heroine. Emma felt another sob choke out of her. Silently, Percy reached over to take her hand. "Let's just pray for the souls of our friends," he said quietly. "Let's hope they all rest in peace."
Emma could hardly argue with that. All she could do was nod and force herself to look at Percy as she felt excruciating pain in her foot. It all seemed like they had a lot of healing to do now.
x-o-x
A hand tightened over the barrel of a simple pistol. Though the rain beat heavily on his fatigued figure, Kristofer turned eyes to the fallen figure of the leader of their so-called group. The woman had finally passed on after being left to slowly and painfully bleed to death. He moved to her side and bent down, reaching for the dagger he knew he'd left planted next to a rock.
The dagger wasn't there.
He cursed loudly and rose, holding the gun down at his side. "Who's there?" he shouted into the rain. "Who's there? Come out and fight me!"
He heard nothing but the sound of the leaves rustling and the crash of thunder from the storm directly over them. He felt a sudden sense of calmness knowing that all of his adversaries were dead. Now all he had to do was go back and finish off the Watcher. Then he could revive the girl and leave.
But when he reached the river, he found Tomas. But the young man was alone. The Watcher was nowhere in sight.
He cursed again, pointing the gun this way and that, attempting to find a hidden adversary in the shadows. As his movements grew more frenzied, a figure watched and waited. Kristofer finally turned and lowered the weapon, breathing hard. "I know you're out there," he spat out. "I know you're there, hiding in the woods, waiting for the storm to pass. Well, old man, I will find you. When I do, I'll—" His voice was suddenly cut off as something heavy slammed across the back of his head.
The gun went spinning from his hand as he landed face-first in the mud. Spluttering, he turned to see a branch from a tree that had fallen from above his head. His eyes narrowed as he got to his knees.
Standing in front of him, very much alive, was the figure of Rupert Giles. In his blood-stained hands was the missing dagger. The older man looked Kristofer in the eye and said quietly, "Looking for me?"
Kris smirked as he staggered to his feet, his eyes never leaving the dagger pointed directly at his heart. "Do I look afraid to you?"
"And do I look dead to you?" Rupert asked calmly. He looked like he was rather enjoying himself. "Is this what your Dark Lord planned? Did he want the Slayer to be saved for him?"
Kristofer felt his cold grin widen as he held out his right arm and rolled his sopping sleeve up. There were no marks on his arms. At seeing the Watcher's surprised look, he countered, "Do you think that I would be in this position if I was one of them?"
For a moment, all was still. Wiping the rain and mud from his face, Kris took a step forward. Giles moved over to block him, using the dagger. Kristofer paused and started laughing. "Right… right! Do you really think you can kill me?"
"Give me a reason why I shouldn't."
"I can save your Slayer," Kris taunted. At seeing the emotion suddenly spring to the older man's eyes, Kris knew he had hit a nerve.
"What did you do to her?" Giles asked.
"I never meant to kill her, but preserve her," Kris replied. "She was meant for a greater purpose than serving as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's royal servant. She's worth more than that." His grin cooled further. "She's worth nothing to us dead. If I die here, she'll die."
"No," Rupert said, his own cold grin lighting his face up as he moved slowly around to keep pace with the other figure. "If she dies, you die. You've gone through all the trouble to kill Tomas. You killed Irene Ironton. Now… how about we settle this like men?"
Kris glanced at the knife, saw that his gun was missing, knew that his wand was in his back pocket and knew that reaching for it would give the Watcher a clear shot at his heart. His only option was to run. As he ran, the branches slapping him in the face, catching on his clothes, he heard the frenzied footsteps of the man chasing behind him. He struggled to breathe and thought his chest was going to explode if he didn't stop running.
He came to a stop in a clearing near the mansion, doubling over and clutching his knees as he gasped for breath. But even as he regained his train of thought, he realized he couldn't hear anyone running around him. He dared a few steps forward, listening hard over the waning sounds of pattering rain. His smile grew darker as he heard nothing. Maybe, with his luck, the stupid old man would have tripped and fallen into the river. Wouldn't that be tragic?
Turning, he eyed the mansion and began moving. He was about to reach the clearing in sight of the front steps when something hard slammed into him and he was flung to the ground. Grunting in pain, he kicked out, making contact with a solid body. He saw the flash of the knife and kicked out again, catching the hand that wielded the dagger and forcing it away. The knife went spinning into oblivion. Knowing his captor was unarmed; Kris dove forward and landed atop the man, his hands moving to his neck. Giles gasped as his glasses were knocked askew and he fought back, pummeling the young man's face with as much strength as he could muster. He called upon his Wiccan strengths and Kris bellowed as he jumped off of him, his hands burning.
The knife was only a few feet away. Kris, still rubbing his injured hands and cursing in his native Russian dove for the knife just as Giles sat up. It was the sound of a gunshot that stilled Kris as he turned to look at the former Watcher, the knife clutched in his hand.
The old man was getting to his feet, lowering the weapon from where he had fired it into the air.
"I don't know about you, but I'm a little tired of your games," Rupert said in his dangerously quiet voice. "If you want to toy with me with your magic, lets. I've got years under my belt, boy."
"You want magic?" Kris asked, bringing forth his wand and aiming it at the older man. "I'd like to see some magic."
Giles just smiled at him, taunting him. Losing control of his thought completely, Kris ran at the man, knocking him off balance before he could fire the shot. As the gun fell to the ground, Kris forgot about his wand and dove for the weapon, even as he felt the crushing pain in his back as he was attacked again by the old man. As both grasped hold of the gun, they continued their relentless fight. Curses were thrown back and forth as Kris regained a hold of his wand. Giles easily repelled the curses with his hand and murmured new curses of his own, sending Kris sprawling into the mud and soaring high through the trees and slamming painfully into different objects.
At long last, the two faced one another. Kris held his wand out. Giles stood there with his hands out to protect himself. Neither was without injury. The gun lay somewhere between them. Without realizing it, both men once again dove for it. Magic wasn't going to kill the other; only a solid bullet would. Punching the old man across the jaw, Kris grabbed the gun, released the safety and held it up, aiming for the middle of Rupert Giles' forehead.
The air around them seemed to pause. Lightning illuminated the scene as Kris sat back on his heels, his cold grin endearing the old man to tempt one move. Giles knew if he reacted once, he was a dead man. His only hope was to stare him down and hope the young man would lose his nerve. Kris hesitated and in that one second the old man was on top of him.
And then the gun fired… a single shot rang out and the night at last fell silent.
x-o-x
"I'll get the coats and call for the car," Cedric said as he paused in the doorway, his lovely fiancé at his side. "I shan't be more than few minutes, love."
"I'll see you then," Buffy said with a bright smile as Cedric kissed her cheek and hurried off. Buffy watched him leave, her fingers toying with the stunning ring on her fourth finger. It certainly looked as though it belonged there. Before she could get lost in her thoughts, a throat cleared from behind her. She turned and saw a single figure standing there, illuminated in warm blue lights from the foyer. "Hi."
"Hello," the young man said, walking over to her. "I forgot to congratulate you on your engagement. It's quite an honor, I hear."
"Yes," Buffy said in a careful voice, not quite trusting the pained look in the young man's eyes. "I am quite honored. What are you doing here?"
"I… I just have to know… are you all right? I mean, are you truly all right?"
How could she answer him without scaring the hell out of him?
"I'm not sure," she tried.
"Elise?" He was so close now. She felt his breath on her face. She struggled not to cry. His hand reached over and touched her face, tipping it to his. "Ellie?"
"I don't remember," she whispered. She felt his fingers under her eyes, readying to catch a stray tear. Breathing was almost impossible now as she was forced to look into those concerned eyes. There were other emotions in them, too. That is part of what terrified her. His other hand moved to cover her mouth.
"Shh…" he whispered, moving to draw her closer to him. "We're here for you, Ellie. I'm here for you. Something's happened to you, something big. What is it?"
It was the loud sound of voices that broke them apart. She blinked as the young man disappeared quickly and turned around, hugging herself to ward off the sudden chill that seemed to permeate her skin.
"Ah," a quiet voice suddenly toned. She glanced over her shoulder to see three men walking towards her, one looking delighted. "Miss Potter, yes… we've been searching you out all evening."
"Can I help you?" she asked in a cool voice. While part of her was glad she had been interrupted before doing something stupid, another part of her was wondering why the sight of these three men was wigging her out.
"Hmm, gentlemen," a tall, blonde man said, detaching himself from the others and moving to tower over the young woman. "She doesn't remember us."
"We shall have to remind her," a calm voice said as an older man appeared, tugging on an old bowling hat. "I believe it has something to do with a certain pick-up a certain officer decided to certainly spoil for us."
At seeing the chilling look in the blonde-haired man's eyes, Elise suddenly couldn't breathe. "What?"
"That shot that you took wasn't meant for you," the third man said in a tired voice. He was younger than the others and had a distinctly ratty look about him. "That was meant for a much bigger fish. But you decided to jump early and got in the way. We couldn't have you blathering about to Sergeant McG now, could we?"
"What?" she asked again, unwilling to believe that she somehow had gotten shot… as a mistake! "Who is this Sergeant—"
"The point is, the next time we have a pick-up, it would be best for you not to blow your cover," the other man said with an impatient sigh. "Surely you would know by now that your antics are only going to get you killed. Peter here as an itchy trigger finger."
"Sorry about that," the ratty man apologized, bowing his head to her.
"Quiet, Travers," the blonde-haired man sneered. "You imbecile!" He closed his eyes and smirked suddenly, turning to look reproachfully at the young woman cowering into the wall. "The point is, you chose this assignment to help yourself. And you have reaped the rewards, have you not?" His silvery eyes flickered around them. "You have bagged the most influential bachelor in the country, your friends are amongst the most powerful of the political spectrum, you have passed your probationary period at Scotland Yard with flying colors and you have had the honor of working with one of the darkest and infamous crime rings in the south of London."
Buffy couldn't even move her mouth, much less speak. What she was hearing shocked her.
"Nevertheless, when we move to take out an officer who has been impeding our pick-ups for months, we expect you to follow our lead and not to play the hero. Regardless of what you have done, it will still happen. But if you slip again…" At the end of his words was a veiled threat. "If you fail us again, we will kill your fiancée and his family. We will kill your family and your friends… oh, wait… I suppose your friends are amongst us here." There was a hint of cold laughter before the man slipped up a gloved hand. The laughter died immediately. "Do not disappoint us again, dearest Potter. If you do, you will end up with more than a bullet in your brain." He bent down so his lips were near her ear. "We'll be watching you… don't slip up. And do not disappoint us again."
As the men disappeared, Buffy found herself desperately hoping that what she had heard was untrue. How could she be a traitor, someone working against her department? How could she possibly be someone to set up these appointments and pay the price with the blood of those she loved? No wonder her friends didn't recognize her! The old Elise must have known that these men would not hesitate to kill anyone close to her!
Even Cedric was threatened…
"Elise?"
Buffy uttered a soft scream before glancing up into Cedric's concerned face.
"What is it?" he asked, automatically wrapping his arm around her shoulder and drawing her cloak around her. "Are you all right?"
"Let's get out of here, okay?" she asked, trying to keep the panic from her voice. From the way they had spoken, it sounded like they were all watching her. The feeling of being unclean and unsafe multiplied even as Cedric led her outside.
"We'll go. A few minutes from now, you'll be safe and sound at home."
Buffy knew she'd be alone at her house and the thought terrified her. Instead, she swallowed her rising fears and faced Cedric, planting what she hoped was a seductive smile on her face. "No," she said throatily. "Your place."
His hand paused on the door handle before he could open it for her. "Are you certain?"
Her trembling hand moved to touch his face as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. His hand reached down around her waist to pull her closer as she deepened the kiss. As she landed on her feet, she smiled breathlessly at him. "I've never been more certain." Or safer with you, she added silently.
"Your wish is my command," Cedric said in a teasing voice as he pulled the door open. Glancing once around her to make sure she wasn't being watched, she slipped inside the vehicle. She knew it was silly to be so paranoid… but she had a feeling that those men weren't exactly kidding when it came to their threats. And since the lives of those she loved were at stake… she wasn't willing to bet them either. At least this way, she'd be safe. She'd be with the man she loved and would one day marry.
x-o-x
Within hours of arriving at St. Mungo's, Wesley had his own room. Stretching his legs out on his cot, he narrowed his eyes and focused his attention on the young man hovering over his bedside. A small notebook was floating in midair with what looked like a quill poised above it. When Nymphadora Tonks had asked him to talk to one of her superiors, he didn't think it would be this soon. Night had fallen and still people arrived, but more were dead than alive.
"Excuse me, sir?"
Wesley cleared his throat and attempted to smile at the man. "Yes… what was the question?"
"I asked you for your name," the man said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
"Oh. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce," he said quietly. The man's quill froze as he gazed as Wesley curiously.
"Your father was Lincoln Pryce?"
"Yes," Wesley said softly. "My father was Lincoln Wyndham-Pryce."
"I was sorry to hear of your father's death," the man said, folding his arms uncomfortably. "Some of us respected him. He was a good man."
Wesley frowned at the man before turning his attention back to the wall. "Any other questions."
"Yes," the man said, shaking himself from his stupor. "How did… you were…"
Wesley chuckled under his breath, threading his fingers together and slipping them behind his head, shifting his bruised body on his cot. "You might want to sit down. This might take awhile…"
The young man pulled the healer's chair over and sat. "I guess what I want to know is… how did you escape?"
"I didn't," Wesley confessed. "I was trapped in that godforsaken place for weeks… asked a bunch of questions by those you call Unspeakables. Yes, they were onto me about some prophecy of the Slayers, wanting to keep a Watcher safe. They kept me safe, all right. When they all ran away when the attacks began, I was trapped, alone. But then the door opened. There was a man there. He said his name was Malfoy. He said he wanted to help me, to keep me safe… he said my life was worth more than many in the Ministry because of what I was. I think he knew I was a Watcher."
"Did he… excuse me, did he…"
Wesley smiled sadly at the young man. "He never hurt me. He never pulled a wand. He just held the door open and told me my freedom was there. I managed to find a shaft. I saw those… they looked like zombies, but more transparent, more frightening… they didn't once make a pass at me. They went right past me as though they knew I was untouchable."
The young man was blinking incredulously, lost beyond words.
"I managed to make it to one of the doors and fell out. I was rescued by Nymphadora Tonks."
"That's… that's… wow," the man said, scratching his head uncertainly. "You certainly went through the strainer."
"It's unbelievable what one man can go through," Wesley said, fixing his dark eyes on the man, "especially when your own people think you're the enemy. If you truly knew my father, you know that I am no enemy. You trapped me in that room because you knew I was capable of helping a Slayer."
"One of the Slayers is in Bulgaria and the other is in London."
"She is?" Wesley asked in surprise.
"Yes. It was her blood, the blood of the Death Eater, which opened the passage to allow us to rescue those like you who were trapped alive inside."
"Isn't that ironic?" Wesley asked tightly. "You were so ready to call her the pariah. Guess you never figured she'd come in handy when it came to saving lives."
"No, we never figured that," the man said uncomfortably. "We actually never counted on a lot of things."
"I want to see her," Wesley said softly. "Will you let me see her?"
"Who?"
"My Slayer," Wesley said quietly. "Buffy is still in Bulgaria, which means that Faith is around. May I see her?"
The young man bit his lip and looked aside, looking pained. Wesley took this as something bad and tried to sit up but fell back, the pain in his head increasing. "There is something else you need to know."
"About…"
"The Slayer in Bulgaria," the young man replied. "I was briefed before coming in here by the Minister's staff member… Weasley. He knew Buffy well…"
"Well…?" Wesley said after a moment of silence.
"There has been an accident…"
x-o-x
In the dead of night, she couldn't sleep. Her mind just kept showing her strange images and nightmares. She saw the faces of the three men who had confronted her that night. She saw the man with a ponytail, the man who looked somewhat mousy and the other man who looked tubby and smug. She knew she underestimated. She would not make the same mistake again.
"Love?"
Buffy barely moved as she glanced at the bed next to her.
"Couldn't sleep?"
She shook her head.
"Can I get you anything?"
She smiled darkly. "I'd like my memory back."
He sighed and moved towards her, sliding from the bed and wrapping his arms around her. "I wish I could, Elise. I really, really wish I could help you."
Her eyes closed, trying to figure out why there were faces hovering above hers that didn't belong there. It was almost like she didn't belong there.
"Go to sleep," she heard her voice say. She opened her eyes and felt the warmth of his body fade as he moved away.
"I'm getting you some warm milk first."
She grimaced in disgust but managed to hold her posture. "I'll be right here," she murmured. As he left the room, she pushed the blinds aside and watched the world in darkness below. "I'll be waiting…"
x-o-x
Draco had almost made it back to the Slytherin Common Room when he saw his Head of House waiting for him. He wasn't waiting alone. He stepped forward, a familiar-looking envelope tucked between his hand and his cloak as though making to disguise it but not quite. The figure on the other side of Professor Snape stepped forward. She was a few inches shorter than him, pale with dark hair and matching eyes.
"I will leave you two be," Professor Snape said after a moment, somewhat amused by the Malfoy boy and the Black girl staring at each other. "Good night, Miss Black."
She didn't answer him. Her eyes were on Draco who stood there, shocked to see the girl that had mauled him just months before.
"What do you want?" he asked coldly. He may have been nice to Weasley, but he was drawing the line at being nice to this Slayer.
The girl stared at him a moment longer before glaring at the Slytherin door. "Are you going to show me where I'm gonna live or not?"
x-o-x
In the days that followed, all would remember that their safe world had fallen by the wayside. The morgue set up inside St. Mungo's revealed that bitter truth. Many believed that they were safe in their homes with only a few occurrences of violence here and there, far away from everything they knew. But this attack had come to the heart of the Magical government, setting in effect motion that could never be undone.
Hundreds of caskets lined the floor of the old shop above the corner bookstore. It had once been abandoned to ruin but was changed when the space was needed. All of the staff who was working on the day of the attack would remember cutting down doors and bursting out walls in order to get the space they needed to do the work they needed to do.
Percy Weasley, a young man who had faced his own demons during the attack, stood at a small dais set up near the doors. People flooded through from the wards, seeking their loved ones. He glanced at them all, his face pale. He had lost his brother. He had lost those he worked for. He even lost the woman he loved. But nothing could dampen the resolve that was firmly set in his eyes or quiet the hands that tightened on the wooden podium. His anger gave him his strength. He would not forget that.
Not again.
He was about to eulogize the deaths of more than three hundred. Some of them he worked with everyday. Some he never knew, never bothered to know. What sort of Minister of Magic was he going to be? He looked to his father who had aged ten years in less than a week. His father's faint smile was enough to strengthen him onward.
"This is a war. This was a battle. We are all victims to circumstance and this battle was no different. These are not your loved ones, family, friends or neighbors. They were needless sacrifices from our enemy which was driven to desperation. Of this I am quite sure, that if we open a quarrel between the past and the present, we shall find that we have lost the future. The war of the past was won by mere chance. This war, the new war, is no victory to those of us living here today with the memory of the dead."
Emma Vance stood over her mother's casket, her hand on the cool crystal. The transparent top illuminated Emmeline's soft features, the features Emma herself inherited. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her cries. Every prayer of taking back the past weeks went unanswered. She lived with the pain that no living person should ever have to bear, a scar of wrath imprinted on her soul.
"We ask ourselves why we face this. Why do we deserve to die? Why does any man or woman deserve to live? We have a purpose. For so long, we have been disjointed. Petty thoughts and envy have led us astray. We have deterred for so long. We were blinded by the truth. And that truth was justified in action. We have lost our government, the one body we looked to for protection against an enemy so strong that none but one can save our world from his tyranny."
Nymphadora Tonks, standing among the remains of her team, stared sadly into the face of an unknown person who had been killed. The body was so badly mauled it was unrecognizable. Everything in her person screamed that this was beyond murder and torture.
"Everything now depends on the one who can stop He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Everything depends on his sacrifice." Here Percy's voice grew choked and he blinked uncertainly as tears sprang to his eyes. "There never has been, I suppose, in all the world, in all the history of war, such an opportunity for youth. We forget that a child who could not defend himself defeated the greatest threat our world has ever faced. But we can't forget that now. We forgot about those that died before us when the war had begun. There are those who died for nothing and those who died in vain. We have forgotten that war affects us all. We have forgotten that what matters the most is not in whether or not we live normal lives but to live at all."
Glancing up, Percy saw that most of the visitors were watching him. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to be someone standing there telling people exactly what they never wanted to hear in the first place.
"Do not forget what happened here," he concluded, his voice full of emotion. "We have all lost those we love." He met his mother's eyes, which were glistening. "We have all fought a war we know nothing about. But now the time comes to grieve. We must be cautious. The war will return to us and we must all ask ourselves if we have a will to live. If we do, nothing save the apocalypse will stop us from fighting till we die. We will not stop fighting until this evil is over. Even know, the International Confederation of Wizards is sending an interim council to assist those of us without staunch leadership. Witches and Wizards from all over the world are offering their support in a war they know we will win. And we will win. There is no defeat for us. For our defeat means our deaths. We will support Harry Potter with whom this war will end."
He glanced down. "My heart and soul is with each and every one of you in your losses. On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I offer our full support in your grief. Thank you for coming today."
As he stepped off the podium, he breathed out. He knew that if he was his old self he would be welcoming compliments, shaking hands and acting like the pompous git he was. But now he had one mission and one alone. The moment he reached his mother's side he pulled her into his arms and held her close as she sobbed brokenly into his shoulder.
Fred and George stood on either side of Bill's casket. George smiled fondly at his elder brother as he set down a tiny pin embroidered with his initials. "We'll see you soon, bro," Fred whispered, his hand lingering on the surface for a moment.
Percy moved from his family, unable to look at his brother's face. It was hard enough to see his broken body on the floor.
His eyes sought out instead the Clearwaters. When he saw them, he sighed and greeted them. They shook hands and spoke, but he could tell Penelope's parents were still shaken up.
He next moved to where the late Minister's wife was standing, a handkerchief covering her face. Only the slight tremble of her shoulders told him that Mrs. Fudge was emotional over her husband's brutal death. Judging by the autopsy Percy had been asked to attend, the man had been tortured and died a slow, painful death. Percy moved and placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder and she clutched it, doubling over in her grief. He could only offer words of sympathy as he moved on.
He saw a familiar face in Amos Diggory. The poor man must have felt overwhelmed at the communal support over the death of his son. It was taking the man a great effort to stand on two feet. He had been one of the few who had been rescued from the Atrium. Though he had been wounded by the Inferi, he stood by his wife on his cane, humbly taking everything in.
They were far humbler than they had been only a week before.
Feeling his resolve creeping back, he set his gaze upon a certain dark-haired woman talking to a blonde. He recognized them both as Gryffindors but his sights were on the brunette only. "Emma," he said. Before she could say anything, he hugged her.
Emma slowly patted his shoulder as she stepped away from him. "Hi, Percy."
"Hello," the blonde said, hugging Percy next. "I was so sorry to hear about your brother. We all loved and admired Bill."
"Thanks," Percy said in a deadened voice.
After the blonde had walked off with her family, Emma turned to Percy. "That was some speech," she said softly.
"It emulates a great man," Percy said fondly before shaking his head. "Emma…"
"What is it, Percy?"
"I… I don't think now is really the time to say this, but…"
"But…" she prompted gently.
"I am going to Bulgaria and I'm going to bring Buffy home."
Emma blinked at the resolve on Percy's face. "What? But she's… she's doing her job and she's—"
"She's not doing anything useful. There was an accident and she has been in a coma for weeks now. I don't even know if she's still alive. But I do think that whoever tried to kill her won't stop until the task is done."
Emma felt a bit tipsy as she tried to let everything sink in. "Someone wanted to kill her?"
"I'm not going to back down on this, Emma. Not while I have a choice. I lost my brother, I lost Penelope and I've lost…" His voice grew choked at the thought of his boss's death. Emma put a comforting hand on his arm. "I am going to rescue her and bring her home."
"You're sure as hell not going alone," Emma said.
"What do you mean?"
"If you're planning a rescue mission, then you're not going alone. I'm coming with you. My mother has…" Emma closed her eyes. "… had a house in the north of Germany. It belonged to her father. If she's injured, she'll need time to heal before we bring her back here."
"Then let's go," Percy said, a hint of light in his eyes once again. "Let's go rescue our friend."
x-o-o-x
I'm trying not to be too bummed here. Feedback was particularly low on the last chapter, which is sort of disheartening. I don't beg for reviews because it doesn't matter. I just hope you people are still reading this. I have big plans for the second half of this story, which begins now, including a Buffy-centric chapter, a Harry-centric chapter, the reunion (which I've been sneaking ahead to pre-write because I think it'll be my favorite chapter in this whole story) and the final battle. Some chapters will be shorter than others. This chapter was a mixed bag of the good, bad and worst.
A preview of things to come…
In the next few chapters… Buffy (as Elise) will face down her fears and come face-to-face with the dark trio in what will likely cost her life… Faith finds herself pinned between a rock and a hard place as she befriends her wayward cousin Draco and learns of a letter that was sent foretelling the future of her once-proposed life… Wesley returns to Hogwarts after his father's death and becomes a Watcher once again… Willow and Tara reappear with special guest stars, including an ensouled vampire. Who will live? Who will die? Whose good and who's evil? And will torn siblings ever be reunited again? Oh, and Buffy finally wakes up.
Exiled and And That's What it's All About will be updated in the next few days.