Author's Note: The last chapter was dark. This chapter is fluffy by comparison. Enjoy what light moments there are because they will soon come fewer and farther between. I actually love this chapter. For the first time in eight chapters and five months, Buffy is breathing free air again.
Author's Note 2: I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get up. I ended up visiting my sister this past weekend and after a load of automobile troubles, I finally got home a few hours ago. Today has been horridly awful, but this weekend was relaxing for us both. As always, thanks to my beta Grace.
x-o-o-x
Chapter 16
Reunion
x-o-o-x
"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else."
- Emily Dickinson
x-o-o-x
In the passing day, everything seemed to pass in a whirlwind.
In the minutes after she had first opened her eyes to a blinding world, she had been attacked by an overzealous redhead and a dark-haired woman who was, for some reason, unable to stop crying. Giles just stood behind them holding a glass of water. Apparently they thought that her inability to hug was from weakness and not from the possibility she was going to die of thirst. Their frantic words tumbled over one another but fell on deaf ears. Her eyes were quietly appraising the look on the older man standing behind the two younger adults who couldn't seem to notice she wasn't paying attention to her. His dark eyes had found hers over Emma's shiny head.
She knew in her heart she could trust this man, that he would do anything for her. Her lips formed a vague attempt at a smile. His eyes glanced down before meeting hers again. But his look was distinctly proud, his eyes shining with warmth.
My God, I've missed this.
As Percy started another long-winded ramble about sending off letters to Merlin-knew-who, she actually hugged him to shut him up.
"I guess what he means to say is that he really, really missed you," Emma said softly, rubbing her hand up and down Buffy's emaciated arm. "We both have. We were so worried."
"Nothing to worry about," Buffy said, shocked at the sound of her own voice. It sounded like it had been quiet for so long now. "I'm right here."
"Yes," Emma replied, eyes shining with tears, "you're really here. You're back."
Giles suddenly cleared his throat and approached the bed. "Well, now that you've expressed your gratitude to the point of stalking, perhaps you can see she's awake and give the girl some time to breathe."
"Oh," Emma gasped, suddenly jumping to her feet. "Oh, are we crowding you?"
"Just a bit," Buffy said, giving her friend an apologetic smile.
Emma sighed and grabbed Percy's hand, yanking him gracelessly off the bed. "We'll check on her later, okay? I think there are some letters we can write, Floo messages to send?"
"Of course," Percy replied, his eyes never leaving Buffy's face. "Let's."
After the two had left the room, Buffy sat back and let the comfortable silence wash over her.
"I'm sorry about that," Giles said quietly, handing her the glass and taking his seat in his armchair, "but considering what they risked to be here, I felt they earned every moment of what you would probably call torture."
"It wasn't that bad," Buffy murmured, feeling a slight flush creep up her neck.
"I think I can safely say I know you rather well," Giles replied, watching as his Slayer drank the water through a straw. His expression turned to bemusement as he watched her gulp water the way a six-year-old may. "Let's see… you're embarrassed by the attention because you haven't showered in some months…" His lips twitched at the look of abject horror crossing her features as a stunned hand reached up to touch her head. "You're not one for mushy moments even though you love to cause a scene. You're likely still disorientated because after a few months, one starts to figure out why the girl doesn't wake up."
"Wh… What?" she asked, staring at him. "Months?"
"Perhaps that is a conversation reserved for tomorrow," Giles replied as she handed him her empty glass.
"I guess I look pretty crappy," she moaned, running her fingers through the tangles that made up her hair. And since when had it grown this long?
"No." Buffy's eyes shot up to her mentor. There was a deep emotion in his voice that caught her attention and held it. "I've never seen you quite so lovely except perhaps maybe after the apocalypse."
At that, her eyes rolled and her hands fell idly into her lap. "Oh, Giles," she murmured, unable to stop a giggle. Another moment of silence passed between them as she felt her body react strangely to the water. A sensation passed through her abdomen which alerted her to the fact that she had likely not eaten in months. "What… what's going to happen to me now?"
"I'm not certain," Giles said, leaning forward in his chair. One hand reached up to swipe his glasses from his face while the opposite hand touched muscles taut with tension and concern. "I suppose you need to time to recover."
"Do I?"
He glanced at her. Though part of her seemed like the vibrant young woman he respected above many others, half of her seemed to be missing. A gaunt face with shadowy eyes stared at him under curtains of lank hair. Arms that looked out-of-place connected to her body, joints ebbing out at the oddest angles. Her hips could barely fit inside his hands he'd be willing to bet. She looked so fragile, so vulnerable… "You look like you've been in a coma the past few months," he told her gently. "You might be ready to charge out and take on the world, but that doesn't mean you are. A lot of things have happened since you…"
"Since I was shot?" she offered helpfully.
"The world isn't the same happy place you left behind," he added.
"Doesn't mean that I don't want in," Buffy replied, stretching her legs in front of her. Even flexing her toes against the warmth of wool socks made the tendons in her legs ache. "Besides… isn't this world the same one that didn't want me to be a part of it?"
Giles didn't have an answer for her. Maybe in time he could tell her the truth, but not today. "Buffy, you're not ready to face this. When you're ready, you'll know. I'm not letting you face a war without preparing you for battle."
"I'm a Slayer, Giles. I'm supposed to be ready for war."
At seeing the lost look on her face, he wanted to reach out and touch her. But the moment soon passed as she scooted to the edge of her bed and, for the first time in five months, stood on her own legs. She wobbled slightly before taking a step forward.
"I suppose you just want to march out there and head to war now?"
Buffy threw him a dirty look before she sat back on the bed, wincing as her legs hit the covers. "You're just loving this, aren't you?"
Giles did his best to hide his amusement, but there was just something slightly funny about a Slayer not being able to stand on her own two legs. "Don't worry, Buffy. A few hundred well-rounded meals, a shower, perhaps a haircut and wardrobe change… you may be back to your old self yet."
Her face fell as she saw herself as a patronized Stepford wife. She stared down at her hands to make sure the platinum engagement ring was really gone and that part of her life was over. A sudden rush of memories suddenly came over her. A startled hand lifted to her lips. Her other hand moved to touch her chest, dropping to her abdomen. "It wasn't real," she whispered.
Giles was eyeing his Slayer apprehensively. Though she sounded like his Slayer and she even looked like his Slayer, there was just some part of her that seemed different. It was as though she had changed when she had been asleep.
"We should take this slowly," Giles murmured, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his Slayer's back. "You've obviously been through a lot. How about day by day?"
She gave him a soft look, one that longed to believe him. "Day by day."
x-o-x
It seemed like a normal day for them all. Percy was in the study that had once belonged to Emma's father surrounded by paperwork. Emma was in the den area, tidying and making certain that their sanctuary remained as home-like as it could be. She wouldn't admit it to just anyone, but she actually loved the idea of detaching herself from reality, if only for a little while. Giles had taken to studying large books that had arrived days before Buffy had awakened. But now that the Slayer was awake, they did their best not to disturb her. Emma's plan had been to let their friend come to them. Otherwise, they might force into doing something she wasn't willing to do. That thought sickened her. After what she had likely gone through, Buffy needed all the sanctuary she could get.
It was no surprise that on the fourth morning after she had woke up, she was downstairs where the other three were. She slowly examined her surroundings, taking in every wall, every painting, every carpet. Her eyes wore a look that clearly stated she had no idea where she was.
"This house belonged to Emma's parents," Giles had told her when she had asked him the morning after. She had gone to sleep quickly, but when the dreams came, she had arisen and had walked around the room, examining everything. This room did not belong to her. These clothes did not belong to her. Nothing in this reality seemed to belong to her.
Wrapping a warm blanket over her shoulders, she spied Emma outside clearing off the walk. Giles was standing a few feet away from her wrapped in the warmest Germany had to offer while talking to the younger woman. She smiled fondly as she saw the two argue. Shrugging, she set off into the main study where a young man with curly red hair was studying a long piece of parchment with a grudging look on his face.
"Hi."
He glanced up, blinking at her through his tortoise-shell glasses. "Hello, yourself," he said quietly, setting the letter down. "You're up early."
"I've slept enough." She didn't know why she felt like defending herself to him, but if he was going to act like a pompous mother-hen, she wasn't going to let him. "What are you… what are you doing?"
His eyes glanced down at the letter and he stared at it, as though trying to remember what it was. "This is my work. I'm writing a letter to the new interim Minister of Magic letting him know that you're alive and well."
"Oh."
"I've sent other letters, too," Percy said quickly, trying to capture some emotion on her face. There was a blank look that had dulled the life he so expected to see in her. "I sent one to the Order, to Hogwarts and to Harry."
"Harry…" she breathed, a voice echoing in her head.
We died for him. We don't regret it. We gave our lives for him. We knew the cost.
Percy reached out a hand and grasped the fragile fingers barely clinging to the desk. "He knows you're alive. He's waiting for you to come back to him."
"Giles doesn't think I'm ready."
The stupid Watcher, Percy thought. At seeing the look on her face, the broken, helpless look that defined everything she wasn't, he knew that the Watcher was off his rocker. Throwing the Slayer back into the fight would give her back the courage she needed. "What if I said I know you're ready?"
Her skeptical eyes caught him as she pushed back waves of golden hair. "I'm not."
"Yes, you are," Percy replied, his fingers squeezing hers. His lips quivered as he felt the reassuring squeeze in return. "Do you remember anything about the past year… anything at all?"
She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. "There is some."
"You were ready to give it all up for him. You were ready to just leave and stay away because you knew that you were a threat to your brother. Do you want to know the truth? It doesn't matter if you think you're dangerous to him. What matters is that you're there. He had to survive these past seventeen years without a family. And then you were there. You brought light back into his life to chase away the darkness. You change everyone you meet. I would be only half the man I am today had I never known you." He smiled at the tentative hope that flashed in her eyes. It was only there for a split second, but he clung to that notion. After all of the darkness he had endured these past few months, he figured he'd earned it. "You don't have to be ready to fight this war. But you will be. You're not alone in this battle. There are others out there ready to die for this cause. I know your parents sacrificed their lives for him. Others have also given their lives to the cause." He thought bitterly at the moment of his brother but swallowed his despair in the attempt to see the hope in her eyes again.
He didn't find it.
"Why…" Her voice was soft, her breathing shallow. She appeared to have a hard time looking at him. "Why do you have so much faith in me?"
"I know who you are," Percy replied firmly, reaching across the desk to touch her pale cheek. "And I know what you are."
"They said there wasn't time," Buffy said, hearing her mother's voice echo in her head.
All she needed to see was the grief on his face before she knew her words were confirmed. "There really isn't," he said quietly. "People are dying. Each day we wait, more will follow. I…"
This time, it was her hand that comforted him. It was a touch he had craved for so long; to feel her arms wrap around his shoulders and hold him in an embrace so warm and caring it made his spirits soar. The hug lasted barely a moment, but it had the same affect on him. He smiled down at the wan, pale face that glanced up at him. His hand reached down to tuck her hair from her eyes and set it behind her ear. "In all this time," he countered, "I needed you. I needed my best friend to be there and you weren't."
"I'm so sorry," she replied, her voice just a shadow of what it was. There was darkness flickering in her gaze and she blinked it away. "But there was somewhere else I had to be."
"I understand." Truly, he didn't. Where else could she be if not here?
"I hope we're not missing all the fun."
Buffy pulled away from Percy and glanced over her shoulder to see Emma Vance standing in the doorway. Her cheeks were rosy and frosty from the cold. Bits of ice and snow clung from her wool cap as she pulled it from her dark hair, setting it aside. Giles stood behind her, dripping from head to toe in ice and slush. He stomped his boots and went upstairs, his heavy footfalls and angry muttering drifting down to the others.
"We were just talking," Percy said in a formal voice, clearing his throat and sitting down at the desk again.
"I see." Emma's tone wasn't warm, but it was curious. Her dark eyes sought out Buffy's, but the young woman wasn't looking at either of them. Her gaze was aimed at her feet. "Buffy, why don't you head outside? It's cold, but I've got the heaters on."
Buffy found herself opening the door and heading outside. Arranging the blanket to better cover her emaciated shoulders, she made her way over to the benches where Emma was moving a few pillows. Two large silver objects were humming and vibrating slightly as they threw off copious amounts of heat in the area. Buffy also found that this end of the porch was clear of snow and ice. Instead, it was occupied by two large white porch swings and the two heaters.
"Sit," Emma said, inviting her to sit on one of the swings covered with a load of pillows and a warm blanket. Buffy happily covered her legs as she stretched out on the swing.
"I like it."
"I didn't think you would," Emma said softly, glancing back at her friend as she, too, sat on the opposite swing. "But then again, you are a California girl. Do you remember that?"
There was a fond smile on her face. "I do."
"Good," Emma replied, covering her own legs before glancing back at the other woman. "Tea? Water? Juice?"
"Juice would be good."
Emma pulled out her wand and a pitcher with two glasses appeared in midair. A moment later, Buffy was sipping at one of the best glasses of apple juice she'd ever had while Emma held her glass, watching Buffy drink. Feeling embarrassed, she set the glass aside. "You want to talk."
"I think you should talk to someone," Emma replied, frowning. "Percy seems to be a poor choice considering that you're his favorite person in the world. Giles would also be a bad choice because he's done nothing except bloody whine since we got here that we haven't done enough to ensure your safety."
"My safety from what?" Buffy asked, confused.
"This is why we're talking," Emma confirmed, sipping her juice.
"What are we talking about?" Buffy asked warily. Having just led another life for several months, she was in no hurry to return to it. The memories and the dreams they led to were bad enough.
"Loss," Emma said. Buffy's eyes lifted again as the other girl shrugged. "We're both familiar with the word. Something we love is taken away and can't be replaced. Three months ago, the Ministry of Magic was attacked and hundreds inside were killed, including my mother." At Buffy's gasp, she plowed on, unwilling to let the blonde get a word in edgewise. "Percy's brother was also killed. More… more died than that, but the point of the matter is, things are different now. The war is growing bigger and the dark side is, at the moment, winning."
"Why didn't they tell me about this?"
"Giles doesn't think you're ready and Percy can't pull his head out of his buttocks," Emma sighed, waving a dramatic hand. "They both care about you so much that they ignore the fact that you're a lot stronger than they are."
"You think I'm ready?"
"It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is that you're ready to go back."
Buffy glanced down for a moment before sighing. "I don't know what to think."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
There it was. The open invitation. Emma was inviting her to pour out the bloodied soul she carried along with every last thought of vengeance that was set deep in the Slayer's heart. But there was nothing that could pry these wounds open again. She had barely stitched them shut. She gave Emma an apologetic smile and shook her head. "I'm not ready for that yet."
"It must've been terrible."
"It really was," Buffy murmured.
"But you're here now… right?"
"Yes," Buffy replied. "I'm here. I'm alive and kicking." She attempted to smile away Emma's concerns, but the other girl was having nothing of it. Buffy felt her smile fade as she cleared her throat, her eyes darting away. Emma watched her for a moment before glancing out at the snow-covered trees.
"I used to love this house," she said in a quiet voice. "Back when my father was alive. I barely remember what this house looked like when he was still here. It's been so quiet for so long, I can't hear him laughing anymore. It's like my world has gone quiet." Her eyes suddenly focused on a shadow moving between the swirling flakes. "Nobody knows what he was like because I never talk about him. My mother loved him and feared him and despised him and obsessed over him, even after he died."
"I'm sorry." There was a strange look on Buffy's face now as she watched her friend recount her own past.
"There's nothing to be sorry for," Emma said, her voice stronger as she moved to her feet, her eyes still fixing on a shadow that seemed to be drawing closer. "We all have secrets, even those we never had the time to tell."
"I just can't go back there," Buffy said, a desperate tone in her voice. "I hope you—" Her voice cut out suddenly as Emma drew her wand out, coming to the edge of the rail. "What is it?"
"There's somebody out there," Emma whispered.
Buffy sat up, immediately on edge. Casting the blanket off of her body, she joined Emma at the steps. Emma gave her a dark look before turning to pound on the study window. "Percy, we've got company!" Seeing the look on Buffy's face, she moved back to the Slayer, keeping her voice low and calm as not to set the other woman off. "What can you see?"
"It's a man," Buffy said slowly.
Emma drew in her breath softly. "Maybe you should get inside. The Death Eaters are probably trying to find you."
But Buffy didn't appear to be listening. Her eyes were locked on a figure now barely visible through the swirling flakes. A peal of sunlight shone down on that moment, illuminating a familiar form.
"Buffy?"
"He's no threat to us," Buffy breathed, a sudden smile working on her thin face. She turned to Emma, her smile widening. "He's one of ours."
The figure suddenly broke through the gloom and, with a smile worthy of any trophy, lifted his arm in welcome. Emma gasped, bringing a hand to her lips. Buffy took a step down, ignoring the chill and the snow. His was a face that haunted her comatose life but was so warm and familiar she felt like breaking down. Her body jarred as she took another step down. The figure moved swiftly to her. Before she could react, his arms were around her and her body was in the air. Strong arms held her tightly as she felt the entire world spin. When she felt her feet touch the ground, a warm hand touched her cheek. She let out a slow breath, offering a quiet smile. He responded with one in kind before his mouth dipped to catch hers. As the kiss deepened, he pulled her closer to him, her strength easily pulling her higher.
The front door to the house opened and Percy stumbled out, trying to yank on his winter coat with one hand and holding his wand precariously with the other. At seeing who their visitor was, he turned accusing eyes to Emma who just smiled meekly at him. Knowing that he would want to stay, Emma moved across the threshold, dragging Percy behind her.
With a smile, she beamed up at Oliver as he set her onto the ground, the snow crunching beneath her feet. His hands reached down to smooth the hair from her face as he drew her to him, his arms wrapping around in an embrace that was just this side of Heaven.
Even in the surreal life, something like this was only dreamt of. Tears filled her eyes as she pressed her cheek into his warm chest. His arms wrapped her in a place where she felt completely and utterly content. His head rested on top of hers. She let out a long breath as she regretfully pulled back, gazing up at him. Wordlessly, she tucked her hand into his and turned back towards the front door, which was standing ajar. He followed her lead and entered the protective warmth of the house.
x-o-x
Giles was quiet one evening later that week as he carefully sliced into his roast. His eyes were on his charge who sat protectively between the one calling himself her boyfriend and the one calling himself her friend. The only good that could be said about mealtime was when these two morons stopped their pissing contest and actually behaved like the adult males they were. Supposedly they had been classmates and acquaintances. He had never been so ashamed of his gender before as he was now.
The only other person who seemed to be as critical as he was Emma. She sat next to him, spearing her potatoes while casting dark looks at Percy. She had quit telling him to behave himself the day before since obviously it wasn't working. Buffy seemed oblivious to the whole thing.
Giles admitted that with a few weeks good rest, Buffy was looking healthier. The ghastly edge from her complexion had worn down and her skin seemed to glow. Whether it was from happiness or the vast amounts of oily food forcing her to gain weight, he didn't know. She certainly seemed healthier with the young Scottish man around. His fork repeatedly stabbed the same slab of meat, his eyes disdainfully scanning the young man. He seemed open and charming, but it was obvious that she was distracted from getting better when he was around. The other young man may seem pompous, but at least he cared about more than his hormones.
Buffy set down her fork and asked for the gravy boat. It was nearest Emma, who happily handed it to Oliver, who gently set it in her hands with one of those little smiles that seemed to irritate the Watcher even more. What was worse was when Percy Weasley leaned across the table, plucked the boat from her hands and started drizzling the gravy over her meat.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Oliver asked, setting down his fork and turning to Percy with an irritated glare.
"I'm just helping out," Percy said in his carefully vague tone, setting down the gravy boat at the table's center and, smirking, returned to his own plate.
"She could have done it herself," Oliver replied, his voice cooling. Percy arched his eyebrows as he glanced at Oliver.
Buffy slowly lost her dreamy look as she noticed the glare Oliver was now sending over her head. Sighing, she set her fork down and swallowed. "You know—"
"If I didn't know any better, I would say you were coddling her on purpose," Oliver snapped over Buffy's protest.
Percy took the bait and felt the sudden need to push every button on this other man's temper. "And you call yourself more than a man, watching her with googly eyes and doing nothing useful? Oh, yes, I can say that you're just—"
"Enough," Buffy said suddenly, glaring at both men. Percy opened his mouth to speak but found a hand pressed against his chest. In the next rush of hair, his chair was toppled and he was sitting on the floor, staring at the Slayer's angry face hovering above him. At hearing the throaty chuckle behind her, Buffy spun around and repeated her action, sending Oliver flying into the wall. "If I hear one more sign of testosterone poisoning, I will happily put you both in the hospital. Is that clear?"
Emma couldn't help but giggle at Buffy's sudden temper swing. Even Giles stopped eating long enough to watch Percy stand up, grumbling. Oliver righted his seat and sat down again. But both men were quiet, occasionally sending dark glares across their plates. But Buffy's intervention spared the group another night of pointless arguing and chest thumping at large. For once, Giles was grateful that his Slayer had returned. She may not yet be back to her full strength, but at least she was well on her way.
x-o-x
"I don't know why you let him treat you like that."
Buffy sighed as she pulled the long braid over her shoulder, running her fingers idly through the ends. Oliver had been ranting for the past few minutes since she said she wanted to go to bed. She sighed as she leaned against the headboard, letting him rant. He needed to get it off his chest and he might as well say it to her. The worst she could do was break a few of his bones. She was in no temperament to really do him any serious harm. After all, she had waited this long to see him. This was the most passionate he had been since her dreams.
"Stop talking before you talk yourself to death," she finally said after another minute. Her patience had its mercy, too, and she was at her limit. He sighed and moved to her bed, sitting down and burying his head into frustrated hands. She moved to her knees and pressed herself up to him, cool hands running over his tense neck muscles. "Hey."
He glanced up at her as she knelt next to him. With a sigh, he pulled himself together and faced her. He felt her hands work into his hair. "I'm sorry. You're the one that's suffered. I feel like we're doing you more harm than good."
The corner of her mouth lifted into a sad half-smile. "Never." Moving forward, her arms wrapped around him. He felt an old ache settle inside as he realized just how much he had missed this. His hands reached up to cover hers.
"This is nice."
"This is better," she replied, her voice almost shy. He felt her moving around behind him, her hands working the tense muscles in his back. He winced at her power, but appreciated her effort.
"Have I told you how much I missed you?"
She glanced up, pushing her bangs aside as he turned to face her, taking her hands in one of his. "No," she said, glancing down. "But you could start."
His arms quickly wrapped around her narrow body as he pulled her to him. It was a kiss that grew quickly from need and want to something more. She moaned against him as his tongue teased her lips, drawing her closer. She felt her body falling against his as he stretched out. His hand reached around the back of her head to pull her closer. Her hands began to slowly wander downwards, teasing him for what was sure to come. As he pulled away to catch his breath, her lips nipped at his, one hand reaching to cradle his face, the other reaching down his abdomen. Dazed eyes stared up at her, silently asking her a question that seemed to hang in the air between them. Her response was to take his lips, adding more than a hint of fire to her kiss. His hands pulled her closer, reaching to feel her back, the unnatural ribs cutting into his hands as they explored the free skin. The sudden desperate need to feel all of her skin washed over him as she slipped on top of him.
A loud voice cleared in the doorway. Buffy froze, her hands reaching up to push herself off of him. Realizing they had been caught in a position too intimate for an audience, she found Giles staring hard at them from the open doorway. "I just wanted to say good night," he said in a cold voice, his harsh eyes glaring at Oliver. The young man cleared his throat as he sat up, neatly displacing the Slayer that had been perched on top of him. With one last dark look, he passed on.
"I guess I should have checked that," she said, chuckling in embarrassment as she pushed her hair from her face.
"And I should've…" His voice trailed off as he saw the uncertain expression on hers. "Hey." He sat up, taking her arm. "All right?"
"I'm good," she said, moving off of the bed and rearranging her blouse which had gotten somewhat tussled. "I feel like I just got caught by my father."
"We weren't doing anything bad," Oliver protested as he watched her move to the door and push it close.
"We were about to."
Neither one of them fooled the other. She cleared her throat and moved back to the bed, pulling down the comforter. "I should probably get to sleep," she added, glancing back at him. "I haven't been sleeping well, since…"
His eyes softened as he moved to her. "Buffy…"
"I'm okay," she said, her eyes meeting his. "I'll be okay."
"I don't mean that. You've been through something that I can't begin to imagine and now you're—"
She let out a short, sharp laugh as she sat down again, feeling the tears pool in the corners of her eyelids. She cursed her heightened emotional state since she'd returned from the sleep of the dead. "Do you know what's strange? I wake up and things are to the point of insanity. I can't even think about what I've done because everyone insists that I know how bad things are here. No one cares about where I've been or how… how awful it was?" The tears were spilling over now. "I watched my entire life fall apart and now I'm here and part of me wishes I could have that back. I'm living and I wish I wasn't."
"Don't say that," he said, sitting next to her. "Please, don't say that."
She touched a finger to his lips. "Things were simpler. People meant more. Everything seemed so real and I find out it was all a lie."
His arms wrapped around her, drawing her to the warmth of his chest. She breathed in his scent for a quiet moment before pulling back.
"I just want you to know that I'm here," he said, tipping her face gently to his. "We are all here for you. Maybe we don't know what you've been through, but until you're ready to tell us we won't know."
"I know," she replied, scooting herself backwards and throwing herself down on the bed. "And I get that. But it'd be nice to have a little space too."
There was a flash of hurt in his eyes as he made to stand up. But her hand took his wrist, stopping him.
"Didn't mean you."
He glanced at her as he moved beside her. "I'll give you what you need."
"I've waited long enough for you," she whispered, her fingers reaching up to trace his jaw line and moving to his hair. Slipping her fingers behind his neck, she brought his face down to hers. A moment later, he pulled back and her lips twisted into a smile. "You can stay here tonight, you know."
"On a gentleman's honor, I promise not to do anything."
"Can you hold me?" she asked, tilting her head. His hand went to his wand, using it to turn out the lights. Turning back, he slid down beside her, drawing the covers around them. His arms went around her body, pulling her back into him. Her eyes crinkled as she felt a bit of what she had been striving for pressing against her backside. He sighed as his head tipped next to hers. Within moments, she was asleep. He remained awake awhile, memorizing the contours of her face and the soft hum of her breath. His fingers stroked her hair, her neck, her back. She was the most beautiful thing to him in the world in this moment and, for awhile, nothing else mattered.
x-o-x
Percy Weasley glanced at the last letter on his desk before giving it to the mail-order owl with flourish. The owl took the letter to the window and sailed off into the cool day. Percy gave a small sigh of relief before he pulled the window shut. He glanced up as Emma walked into the den, looking put out. "Good morning," he said, pushing the drapes closed as he straightened, glancing happily at the cleared off surface of Emma's father's desk.
She just huffed out, folding her arms against her chest. "Good morning?" she snapped irritably.
"I happen to find it a pleasant morning. For the first time in a few months, my work load is gone and vanished." He gestured to the desk, hoping to see her tense face relax. If possible, it scrunched up more as she turned to him.
"Percy!" she screeched.
"What?" he asked, unable to stop a small jump of surprise.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, stalking over to the chair and dropping into it. "It's just… all Giles has been doing these past few days is complaining about Buffy. And then he switches to his next favorite pastime and complains about Oliver. I just delivered him his mail. He's got her standing on her head and balancing books on the bottoms of her feet. She's not a performing monkey in heels. She's a bloody girl!"
"I think we're all beginning to suffer the effects of cabin fever," Percy muttered under his breath. "Is he planning on letting us out soon?"
"That's the thing!" Emma exploded, with such visible energy that Percy leapt back. "This is my house! Bloody hell!"
"I know how you feel," Percy replied, moving quickly to put steadying hands on Emma's shoulders. "But we have to be patient. Until he feels she's ready—"
"She's ready now!" Emma shouted back. "How many weeks ago did you send Harry that letter that she was awake? Don't you think he's ready to see his sister now? Why wait another year for him to train her on how to act like a robot again?"
"Emma, dearest Emma," Percy sighed, drawing the irate girl into a comforting hug. Her hands fell on his shoulders as she pulled back, a look of growing alarm spreading across her face. His hand reached out to push her hair back, but her hand reached up to stop his. She blinked uncertainly, suddenly not knowing what to do.
"That Watcher has me on the end of my tether."
Percy and Emma stepped away from one another, both turning as one to face Oliver who stomped into the study, looking aggravated.
Emma sighed as she dropped back onto the chair. "You're preaching to the choir," she moaned.
x-o-x
Giles stood perched at the edge of a chair, watching as his Slayer literally danced her way from one end of the room to the other. Each movement was precise, if not exaggerated by a body clearly not fit for her job. But she moved, knowing the dance by heart. Her fists beat out in sync with her breathing. Her kicks were sharp and direct. At last, she paused, turning to face him, her hands expectantly on her hips. Long hair flanked her pink face, falling in unruly sheets to her waist.
"All right," he relented, seeing her impatient glare and knowing it was foolish to hold her back any further. "You're ready."
x-o-x
Hogwarts
Harry glanced around through the stacks, trying to see through the gaps of books. A group of Slytherin sixth and seventh years were sitting at a table between two of the shelves. They all appeared to be working on their coursework. Even Faith was paying attention to her book, twirling a quill idly in her hands.
Pulling back, his eyes scanned the books and found the one he'd been searching for. He found his way back to the table where Ron, Hermione, Ginny and a few others were studying. Ginny barely acknowledged him, her eyes instead on her essay. Hermione was surrounded by books, making her impossible to see. Ron, however, was giving him a knowing smirk. Harry, being the complete idiot that he was, had confessed to Ron everything that had happened on Christmas.
He actually remembered everything himself.
She had shown him the letter, the one from Evan Rosier. She had looked triumphant as she waved the proof of why they could never be together in his face. But he felt his own triumph flicker to life at knowing that no matter what they did to her, she would always be Faith.
At that moment, nothing else mattered.
"Do you know what I think?" he asked silkily, grabbing her suddenly by her shoulders. She gasped and froze, her eyes staring blankly into his. "I think you're working your buttocks off trying to overcall whatever pall was cast by that ridiculous letter."
There was a hint at life in her eyes, a flash of deep guilt and then nothing. "You're not wrong," came her quiet reply.
His hands moved up her neck as he took a step closer. He couldn't read her gaze now, but there was something dark and swirling in her eyes as they met his blankly, refusing to let him see. "But I also know something that you can't ever take away from yourself," he breathed, his hands reaching her hair as he pulled her closer. She didn't try to fight him away. "You can't deny that this isn't real."
"No." Just that single word sent shivers down his body. Her guard was let down and again he could see the flash of fear in her eyes. "Harry, please..." The words sounded desperate, but not nearly as desperate for her as he was in that moment.
"I don't think so." Without pausing to think of what he might be doing or of how he could be paying for this once it was over, he pulled her to him, pressing his mouth on hers. For one perfect moment, he held her, letting himself feel her. Her moan against his lips was the perfect incentive. His lips twisted as his tongue gently parted her lips. He felt her arms reach up to take him, but his movement was faster. His arms reached down to push her away. As she fell back against the wall, she stared at him with swollen lips and eyes ablaze with need.
"No more waiting," he said in a husky voice, his eyes watching her erratic breathing. "It's time to make your choice."
So far, she hadn't made any choice. He'd told Ron that he had made the first move. Ron actually looked triumphant as he turned back to his books, his lips quirking as he pushed aside the stack between him and Hermione in order to check her progress. Harry, despite the growing stacks of homework, felt the need to glance over his shoulder. A sudden shadow fell across the far stacks. Rising, he turned back to Ron, but found him talking to Hermione. As he slipped away, he didn't noticed Hermione's saddened expression as she turned back to her essay with a heavy sigh.
Even the knowledge that they had the book that could help the D.A. had done little to cheer Harry. He was convinced that he was right about him and Faith and he held that knowledge to himself. He knew that Hermione was hurt over this newest phase, but he didn't want to push her. He didn't want to lose her, not as she was one of his closest friends and confidants.
A part of him was also angry. It had been two to three weeks since Percy had sent him the letter saying that his sister was awake and recovering. He had sent a dozen owls in that time, demanding to know where she was and why she wasn't back in England, all of which came back unanswered. He only hoped that she was all right and focused on the fact that she was getting better and not staying away on purpose. Not like his other Slayer was, anyway.
As he walked into the shadows, he saw a figure moving about, scanning books with a curious expression on her face. His lips broadened into a wide smile as he saw Faith's dark expression. As he took another step closer, she raised to her full height and turned on him, her hands pressing into his with such force he winced at the imminent bruising.
"Harry!" she whispered sharply, glancing around them as he shook her hands off, rubbing his sore arms with a wounded expression on his face.
If he wanted to admit it to himself, he had another reason for pulling her into his corner. He wanted to tell her that Buffy was all right. He half-hoped Faith would already know with the intuition both women seemed to share, but now he wasn't so sure.
"Are you looking for something?" he asked in a low voice.
"Not from you," she said heatedly, pushing past him with a sharp jab from her shoulder. He spun around, glaring at the back of her head before he felt his temper snap.
"Fine," he hissed back. "But you think you could topple down from your mighty horse for a moment to quit acting like such a flaming—"
She spun around on him so quickly it made him reel. "Who do you think you are?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she descended on him, anger etched in the pale lines of her face. "You stupid, selfish—"
His hand reached out to cover her mouth, his eyes imploring her to calm down so he could say his piece. "I actually wanted to tell you something that has nothing to do with us." He winced at the arrogant expression in her eyes. "Not that there's an us, but—"
Her hand forcefully shoved his from her mouth as her hands went to narrow hips. "What?"
"It's about Buffy," he said in a hurried tone. He saw another shadow fast approaching. Faith seemed to sense it, too. With a half-glance behind her, she suddenly came at him with the force of a whirlwind. Her hands took him by the robes, pushing him into the corner where they waited for a moment as a Slytherin sixth year passed by, looking bored. When she turned back to face him, she blinked as their faces were only inches apart. Fear, turmoil and guilt boiled over, but her senses seemed to reclaim her as she took a step away.
"I don't think—"
"Then I'll think for both of us." Within seconds, she found herself swept into his arms again. Her hands reached up, clenching around his robes as she added her own spin to the kiss. Her teeth tugged on his lower lip, her tongue caressing his upper lip as she pulled back, smirking. His eyes stared down at her, the green glimmering even in the darkness.
"What about B?"
"She's awake," Harry said, his voice strangely quiet. His hands gently pushed her away as he moved out of the shadows, blinking into the light. "You might want to tell your Watcher. She may actually be back soon."
"How long have you known?"
"About two, three weeks," Harry admitted, turning back to face her. At seeing the sudden flash of anger, he felt the need to defend himself. "It isn't like you're approachable nowadays," he snapped. "Besides, I thought you would know."
"I would know except the two people that went to rescue her happen to hate me." Her hands went back to her hips. "I might think it's three as you took so damned long to tell me."
"Faith—"
"No." Her voice was an actual grunt, drawing the attention of those studying around them. With a quick glance around, she dropped her voice. "No. You know how important Buffy is to me, to both of us. I'm not going to let you sit here and attempt to charm away the fact that you held out on me."
"I know I did. And I'm sorry."
"So am I." Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from him. "I think you should know I've made my choice." Despite her best efforts to stay away from him, this was going to have to hold up. She needed it to hold up. Swallowing away the last trace of her emotions, she masked her face and said, "I choose no."
Turning on her heel, she headed out of the stacks, leaving Harry alone in the darkness, lost in his own thoughts.
x-o-x
London, Night
"I can't believe how much I've missed this city," Buffy said, her hand tucked inside Oliver's elbow as she gazed fondly at the streetcar they'd just gotten off of. "I love London."
"Me, too," Emma grunted, smoothing her long wool coat and casting a dark look at the Muggle transportation as though it had insulted her. Percy stumbled next to her, looking exhausted. Giles had insisted they take Muggle transportation all the way to and through London, arousing as little suspicion as possible. If that wasn't bad enough, the Watcher had ditched them at the airport.
The first thing Buffy had done was drag herself to the first beautician she could find. The long, heavy locks had been chopped away and she came out looking rather adorable, her hands touching hair that barely reached her shoulders. The second destination led them to Buffy's flat where the three watched Buffy practically seduce her wardrobe before they headed to their last destination, the Leaky Cauldron.
"Did you want to take a room here tonight?" Percy asked Buffy as they walked inside the old saloon. "I'm sure they have rooms—" His voice trailed off as they walked inside. This was one of the first times he had ever seen the Leaky Cauldron absolutely dead silent. Tom, the wizened wizard behind the counter, glanced up at them and shook his head, shrugging at the empty dining area. "Maybe we should take the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade for the night."
"Need food," Buffy said, glaring at Percy. He resigned himself to the fact that he would never be man enough to stick up for himself under her glare and waved a gleeful Tom over.
"We'd like to order dinner and perhaps take lodging if it is available."
"As a fact, it is," Tom replied, giving him his toothless smile. "Will you be needing two rooms, then?"
Percy and Emma exchanged a glance of horror over the candlelight separating them before gazing at the two seated inside. They were just staring at one another as though the world didn't matter to them. But considering Giles had been doing his best to keep privacy between the couple to a minimum, both Percy and Emma realized exactly what the two would be doing five minutes after getting into the room.
"Two rooms are fine," Buffy suddenly said, breaking the silence by giving Emma a strange look. "We can take the Knight Bus to Hogwarts in the morning if you're that uncomfortable."
"That'll be fine," Emma replied, glancing up at Tom with a relieved smile.
Tom quickly relayed what he had on the menu and they ordered. Moments later, he brought them a jug of wine and spirits and the four quickly filled their glasses, toasting to the night and to friendship.
After dinner, Emma found herself being dragged into a room with Buffy, while the men reluctantly tucked into the room across the hall. Once the door was closed, Emma rounded on the blonde. "What is with you tonight?" she hissed.
"I'm in my own clothes," Buffy giggled feebly, staring down at her bright tunic and pants.
Emma found herself growing irritable. Buffy had easily had the most to drink of any of them tonight, convincing them time and again that her little Slayer's body could handle it, lack of weight or not. "And you didn't want to share with your boyfriend?"
"And what, force you and Percy to share a room?" she asked, blinking up at her friend as she opened the bag she'd brought with her from her flat. At seeing the sheer amount of clothing and toiletries crammed inside, Emma gave her friend a dry look. "Please… I can wait one more night to tear his clothes off. And it isn't like we haven't had privacy. We just had to be more… choosy about it."
"What do you mean?" Emma asked as she settled on one of the beds, bringing her own bag up with her.
"There was the shower," Buffy said thoughtfully, twirling a hairbrush around as she sat on her own bed, her hair framing a flushed face. "Oh, the cellar. There was that little nook between the dining room and kitchen. There was—"
"I get it," Emma snapped, holding up her hand. "You obviously played around there?"
"Not really played around, played around," Buffy admitted, running her brush through her hair with a dreamy look on her face. "I still haven't torn his clothes off."
Emma felt herself growing queasy as she turned back to her things, refusing to look at Buffy again unless she felt like vomiting on her. "That was too much information for me to follow."
Buffy just giggled at her before throwing her brush into her bag and brushing the heavy bit off her bed with a flick of her leg. Emma sighed before giving up her own defenses and flinging herself onto her bed. She watched as Buffy lay quietly for several minutes before saying, "You could have gone to him if you'd wanted to."
Buffy opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment before she said, her voice barely audible, "When I was sleeping, he was dangled in front of me like a toy." She gave a sad little laugh. "I was so ready to fight for him. Now, I don't have to. I think he already belongs to me."
"And you to him," Emma said, curling onto her side and reaching up to switch out the light.
"Yeah," she said softly, rolling over towards the door, facing away from Emma. Her fingers curled into the blanket, drawing its scratchy feel against her tingling skin. "Yeah…"
The next morning was harried. All four managed to get out onto the street, but in various forms of readiness. Buffy was clearly lacking, her hair was wildly pinned up and she was wearing clothing that looked far less together than her normally fashionable ensemble. Yet the others said nothing as they boarded the Knight Bus.
Percy and Emma found themselves sitting stiffly next to each other, watching as Buffy and Oliver cuddled on one of the plush purple sofas and dozed as the Knight Bus popped along. How either of them could sleep was a total mystery, Emma thought as she picked herself off of the floor for the fourth time. At last, the conductor, someone none of them knew, announced their destination next. Once at Hogwarts, all four got off of the bus. Percy was a little green in the face and swayed as he stepped off, drawing in a deep lung-full of cold air to steady himself. Buffy smoothed her jacket as she glanced at the castle looming in the distance. With a keen sense that she was returning home, she turned to the others who stared apprehensively at the school they thought they'd left behind.
"You don't have to come with me," she told them.
"My brother's in there," Percy said indignantly, stepping up next to her. "As well as my sister."
"You go, I go," Emma grinned, coming up on Buffy's opposite side.
Oliver ambled up next to Emma, squinting at the castle. "I spent enough time there last year even though I was out. Another hour isn't going to kill me."
Buffy smiled at her friends before taking Emma's hand with great enthusiasm and skipped towards the gates.
x-o-x
Hogwarts
"I'm telling you, mate," Ron said, his mouth full of porridge as he glanced over his essay, his eyes fondly taking in the large 'E' written on the corner, "you just focus yourself and you'll be great."
"Right," Harry said, glaring at his 'A'. The fact Ron had outshone him on a Potions essay normally wouldn't bother him, but today everything seemed to be going wrong. Hermione just sat next to Ron, staring happily at her 'O', making Harry feel like even more of a dunce. He was curious as to how Ron had done that much better than him, considering half the time Ron copied off of him.
"That's what you get when you do your own work, Ronald," Ginny said suddenly, dropping on Ron's opposite side with a knowing look. Her eyes moved over to Harry, who was staring at Ron as though he'd grown a second head. "You might want to close your mouth, Harry. You never know what could happen if you left it hanging open like that."
There was a sharp laugh behind Ginny as Hermione tucked her paper back into her bag. She had said very little that day, but there was a determined look on her face that none of them quite understood.
Harry snapped his mouth shut, sending both girls a dark look. So far, he'd earned himself another detention with Snape after daring to answer a question the Professor had set out. Aside from that, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was angry at him for not participating in class. If Professor Sprout had one thing to say about his ability to grow ever-changing flytraps that afternoon, he was going to lose it.
"Harry?" Ron asked softly, glancing at his best friend. Harry's face was tinted pink as he stared down at his hands. "Mate?"
"I'm good," Harry said in a voice he would later hate himself for. "Really, I am." As he looked up, his eyes scanned the Slytherin table. They darkened when he noticed all of the Slytherin seventh years save one. Faith had yet to show up for breakfast and had a feeling she'd been training late the night before. Since their moment in the library, she had been avoiding him. He supposed she was justified in doing so, but that did little to abate his frustrations. Ron seemed to follow Harry's eye line and suddenly blushed and looked away. Harry kept his eyes on the table until he noticed Malfoy's disgusting impression of Harry before turning away. Smothering a yawn, he shoved his paper into his bag and stood up, preparing himself for the long walk down to the greenhouses.
"Harry?" For the first time that day, Hermione spoke.
Harry couldn't look at her. He had a feeling she knew what he felt, that she knew he was in pain. He kept his eyes averted as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder before throwing back at Ron, "See you at dinner, mate."
"Harry," Ginny breathed, taking him by the arm as she stood up. "Look."
If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that the Great Hall had fallen silent. His eyes glanced at Ginny until he slowly turned around. Two people were moving towards them. The closer they came, the quieter the room became. Even the staff table had fallen silent, as though everyone was waiting on bated breath.
Percy Weasley and Emma Vance had never looked more welcome. Ron's face tightened slightly as a smile crossed Ginny's face. Both Weasleys moved to greet their elder brother. Hermione stood up, leaning slowly forward as the two parted, allowing a third figure to come forward.
Harry felt as though his breath had been stolen away. He couldn't breathe, couldn't react… he didn't even remember where he was.
"Buffy," Hermione whispered.
The small woman stepped between her two friends, her eyes on the enchanted ceiling, looking so mesmerized she didn't notice that everyone inside the Great Hall was staring at her. Harry could only gape at her before she finally stopped a few feet from him, her eyes dropping to meet his.
Finally remembering his voice, he managed to choke out, "Took you long enough."
A tight, sad smile came to her lips as she took a step forward. Before he could think another moment, he flung his bag aside and swept his sister into his arms. He heard her laughter as her arms tightened painfully around his neck. He couldn't resist his own as he finally set her down, gazing at a face that could only belong to her. His hands swept over her pale cheeks, pushing her shorter locks from her eyes. Those eyes held his, captivating him. Though she looked painfully thin and emaciated, she was still the most beautiful image he had ever seen.
"Welcome back, Buffy," Ginny chuckled, stepping between the siblings and giving the elder Potter a warm hug. "It's really great to see you again."
"It's good to see you, too," Buffy said thickly as she hugged the younger redhead back. She then turned to hug Hermione, who had run around the end of the Gryffindor table just for this moment. As Harry watched his sister greet his friends, he turned back to the Slytherin table and frowned. It didn't seem right that Faith wasn't there to witness this moment. She had to be somewhere.
His eyes fell onto Draco. With a satisfied smirk of his own, he saw the Slytherin Prince looked absolutely shocked. I bet he didn't expect to ever see her alive again, Harry thought happily.
He turned back to see Wood. Grinning, he shook his former Quidditch Captain's hand, admiring the way he greeted Spencer and Laurel. Emma Vance stood next to Percy, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, both allowing their friend to have her moment in the spotlight. So many had waited for her to return and now that she had, the feeling of loss intensified. Until Buffy was able to talk to them would she finally be able to fully comprehend how bad things had actually gotten. Until then, they would have to wait.
The staff table watched the moment quietly before Professor Dumbledore stood up. There was a resolute calm in his face as he approached the small crowd of people and neatly pulled Buffy from it. "Ms. Summers, it is quite a delight to have you within my halls again."
"It's an honor to be back, sir," she replied, dabbing her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. "I've missed this."
"And we've missed you," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "If you would please vacate to the Entrance Hall, I wish to speak with you and your friends."
"Of course," she nodded, turning back and collecting Percy, Oliver and Emma. As they retreated from the hall, she gave Harry one last wave and with it came the promise of a conversation neither of them was certain the other wanted to have.
x-o-x
In the darkest catacombs within London's shady streets, a single figure moved stealthily among the shadows. His eyes searched out what he half-expected to find, a crushed letter bleeding ink into his palm. He had no intentions to make this meeting, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. After learning that the man had lived, Giles wanted to look him in the eyes in order to believe it on his own accord.
A sudden footstep on the rain-soaked street halted his progress. He waited, his breath held, his heart hammering in his ears.
"Really, Rupert, all of this sneaking around? What would the others say?"
A blinding light attached to a wand suddenly appeared as Quentin Travers stepped around a corner to face the taller form of his former pupil.
"Well, now, aren't you the dapper chap?"
Giles held his silence. In reply, he lifted the hand that held the crushed letter that bled into his palm.
"Oh, yes, that little trifle, I'm afraid," Quentin said, his eyes crinkling with mirth as he lowered the wand, the light blending into the shadows. "Rupert, you have done us quite the service. I don't know what my Lord would have done if the girl had been allowed to die."
"I won't play these games with you, Quentin," Giles said, his voice deceptively calm despite the rage coursing through his veins.
"Rupert," Quentin appealed, a slight smile on his pudgy face, "you didn't expect me to believe you had gone all soft now, had you?"
Giles again held his silence, though ever fiber of his being was tempted to throttle the man for his arrogant expression and twice as hard for the smug, knowing look on his face.
"I stand by what I said two years ago," Quentin said softly, as though an afterthought, "you really do have a father's love for the girl, don't you?"
"Buffy," Giles replied, his tone taking on a harder edge. "Her name is Buffy."
"Nevertheless, you have spared us from a difficult choice had the Ministry succeeded in what they were planning on doing to the girl. To render her unconscious before we could find her, it was ingenious. They certainly caught onto our plan."
"Which is what, exactly?" Giles asked coldly. "You want to keep her alive as a… a plaything?"
"Goodness no," Quentin replied, shaking his head and chuckling. "We aren't monsters. At least, most of us are not. What we have planned for her goes beyond Potter or Dumbledore. She is the future, a next generation of—"
"If you really think that you have her loyalty after what you forced her through, you're sadly mistaken." Giles' tone had lost all calmness. His fists were clenched and his breath was ragged. Just staring at the man was a mentally exhausting exercise.
"We have no need of her loyalty," Quentin said, the faintest smile appearing on his lips as he lifted his right arm, the Dark Mark flashing into view. "We have her soul. The Slayer belongs to us now. She can't fight it. She can't defeat it. Her only way out is death." At seeing the horrified expression on the other man's face, his laughter grew.
"There will come a time when all of this is over and you are all dead," Giles said evenly, taking a step closer to the older man. His face was within a foot of the old coot, yet he felt like he had to defend something – his honor, his choices, anything to hide the deep feeling of guilt in knowing that his choices would confine his Slayer to a dark existence. "On the day, I will be there."
"We are not too unlike, you and I," Quentin replied. "We do what we have to do to ensure the power of survival. Or, should I say, the survival of power. Lord Voldemort will defeat Harry Potter and the world will belong to him. Like it or not, your days of hiding your head in the sand are over. You're going to have to own up to it eventually, Rupert. You'll have to tell her. After all, if she discovers that you were the one that betrayed the Ministry by keeping her alive… well, now, what does that say for you?"
For this, even as he watched the man swagger into the shadows, he had no answer.
x-o-o-x
Next Chapter: The two Slayers are reunited.
And… a taste of things to come: Buffy returns with her Watcher to Hogwarts just as Harry makes the most difficult decision of his life. Faith, finding herself at a crossroads, will risk everything to follow her instincts. Buffy will see her old friends and past love again as some will come to aid and others will hinder, but not is all as it seems. The end is nigh. The choices are never easy. Some will die. Many more will suffer. How will it end? How can it end? They will become an army. The whole world is waiting to see what one can do. It's time to show them. It's time to show who the chosen one really is…