Disclaimer: I do not own HP, BtVS, AtS.

A/N: Yes, I know, another long break between updates. I'm truly sorry about that, and I have tons of excuses, but I won't give a one of them. Note that this is set directly after Order of the Phoenix so there is no Remus/Tonks relationship. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this.

The Necromancer

Chapter 6: Somewhere Inbetween

The guilt that had for so long plagued him disappeared in that last moment.

His life seeped from him, but the look of grim determination on his face was ever present. He fought so hard with minutes that passed like decades. Demons flooded over him, as liquid and powerful as a tidal wave. Then came the pain and darkness and eventually a resounding peace. But it didn't numb him; he was still as human as ever. Where was the bright light everyone described? Wasn't his sister supposed to greet him, introduce him to the other fallen heroes at the 'pearly gates'?

There was only nothingness, a blurred memory of Spike's face, and flashes of fuzzy images with loud voices. Still, in essence, there was nothing solid. . . Except maybe the cool, stiff sheets scratching his skin.

"The wounds were quite extensive, but he's through the worst of it," said a Scottish accent. "We've made arrangements for him to transported to a nice muggle hospital--though, honestly, I hate the thought of those savage 'doctors' poking my patient with needles and thread."

A feminine, English voice answered, a smile hidden in her words. "Actually, there's no need for transport. He's to be kept in St. Mungo's until we can move him to a safer location."

"But he's a muggle! We'll run out of sleeping potion for the whole ward if we try to keep him sedated that long. And did I mention that he's a muggle?"

"I'm very aware of that, Portibus. As for your potions, we want him awake and aware. No more draught unless the patient requests it."

"But he's a muggle!"

Gunn's eyes flickered open, a look of confusion written across his features. The first thing he saw was a woman's grinning face, and in that moment, he thought that the Powers That Be might have given him a break and sent him on to a happy afterlife. Then he realized that he had a cramp in his leg and that his 'heavenly welcome party' had bubblegum pink hair.

"Wotcher, Charlie! How's the gut?"

Gunn arched a brow. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know your pants," the woman answered. She tossed something to Gunn. He didn't take the time to question her appearance or her strange robe-like clothing, instead examining the wallet in his hands. . . his wallet. "And your pants say that you're one Charles Gunn."

"I'm missing a twenty," he muttered. With a look beneath the covers at a very foreign pair of cotton PJs, he glanced back up. "And I would like to know where my interrogated pants might be--more importantly, where the hell am I?"

"I thought you'd get around to that eventually, Charlie."

Gunn winced. "Just Gunn, please."

"Good because I already have a friend named Charlie."

The woman nodded, and Gunn realized that a man was standing across the room. The man rolled his eyes. "You tell him. I've got a cauldron combustion to look in on." He walked out quickly, closing the door behind him.

The woman frowned, but her expression lightened when she looked back down at Gunn. "As it is, I prefer my surname over my first as well. I'm Nymphadora Tonks, auror. As for your question, your pants are in the wardrobe, and you are in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Granted, your injury wasn't so much magical as inflicted in a magically familiar circumstance and requiring a magical cure."

"Oh . . ." Gunn pushed himself up on both elbows, wincing at the slight soreness through his middle. "Magic hospital? So the guy who just left was. . ."

"A healer, yes. He did a nice job on you, too."

Gunn nodded. "How long have I been here?"

"I little over an hour," Tonks answered. "You know, you're taking this rather well for a muggle, non magic person. I suppose that comes from working with the ensouled ones."

"The others. . ." Worry crossed his face. "Where are they? Did they make it out?"

Tonks sat down lightly on the side of the bed. "I'm not sure actually. I found you with the vampire Spike, but I don't know about the others. I'm a bit concerned myself. Usually, cleanup doesn't take this long. I may need to go back. . ."

"Wait," Gunn snapped. "You mean you left them with the bowls of hell opening up into onto the street? What sort of help was sent? What did . . . ?"

"Calm down already," Tonks snapped back. "If they were alive when we arrived, then they're most likely alive now. The demon problem had been remedied, apparently due to the diplomacy of the American Wizarding Council. They called the Ministry of Magic in for help getting rid of the demons that were already on the loose. Don't worry, Gunn. Your friends will be alright. . . As long as they didn't let Moody escort them. . . Speak of the devil."

The door swung open, half blasted off its hinges. A man limped in, a hardened grimace on his scarred face and what appeared to be a wand in his hand. A round false eye rolled in its socket, as he looked wildly about the room. "There you are!" he all but shouted at Tonks in a guttural voice. "That boy better be ready for visitors already, or I'm going to blast these bloody bloodsucking scoundrels with so many hexes that you'll be able to fit the both of them in the same damned matchbox!"

Tonks hid a smile with one hand. "How was the clean-up, Moody?" she asked innocently.

The man's lips drew tight as he attempted to restrain himself. "The clean-up," he growled, "went rather well, if you dismiss the fact that we're returning with three of the bloody demons as our guests."

Gunn saw a familiar face lit with a sarcastic smile peek over the man's shoulder. "This one's a charmer, Charlie boy," Spike smirked, pushing past the old wizard. "Good to see you alive."

"So much for that 'one night left to live' thing," Gunn muttered with a faint grin.

The blond smirked, "Overrated. And you know Angel. . . . Melodramatic poof.

Moody held his wand hand in restrain moving out of the way to let two more 'guests' enter the room, a young woman with a disheveled hair and a wide, fake grin and a pale, dark featured man. Gunn watched Spike and Angel walk past the open window where the sun was shining, and he smiled up at them.

"Wards?"

"Of course," Tonks nodded. "St. Mungo's has a charm over the window for just this reason. Though they rarely receive a vampire, there are some plants and poisons that leave victims sensitive to sunlight."

Moody made a coughing noise, staring at the vampires. "And if there's ever a problem, those very wards can be lifted quite easily. A wouldn't make any aggressive movements, were I you."

"We won't," Angel said walking to Gunn's bed. He reached down and put a hand on the man's arm. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"And he landed me a good punch when I told him I'd sent you off half-dead with a strange witch aura," Spike added.

"Auror," Tonks muttered.

Gunn was no longer paying attention, his eyes drifting over to his other 'guest,' the one wearing Winifred Burkle's face. "Do they. . .?"

"I'm fully aware of that one's nature," snapped Moody who had apparently been watching the group reunite. "Disguise does no good with an eye like mine. Might as well drop the innocent act, demon."

Fred's expression hardened, her jaw tight as she turned to face the wizard. A resounding voice that did not match her slight body issued from her mouth. "Then you know well that no deception was meant." She cocked her head. "I assume you would rather alarm this hospital to my presence than have me wear my shell?"

Moody looked away from her--it. "You can show your true form in this company, lest you have something to hide."

"You could not comprehend my true form," she answered haughtily. Nevertheless, her body transformed, her clothing melting into her blue armor, indigo staining her hair, eyes, and crackled skin. "Does this please you, wand-waver?"

Moody spoke under his breath, ignoring her. "Los Angeles is clean," he said to Tonks. "The Ministry's gone to do their paper work. Thankfully, they're too busy to pay much attention to our guests here. Dumbledore's asked us to bring them to a safe place, not that they need protectin'."

"We agreed to have you escort us to this hospital so that we could find our friend," Angel said, eyes lifting dangerously, "nothing more. We appreciate what you've done for Gunn, but we didn't ask for help. We can find our way out from here."

"So says you," Spike stated. "Place smells like London."

"With all due respect," Moody replied with anything but respect lacing his words, "you'll be comin' with us. Now Albus Dumbledore's a good man, not the kind who would send you blazing into the sun without reason. He's the one who sent word for the aurors to go to Los Angeles to aid you in the first place."

Moody's eyes scanned the room cautiously. "Word has it that you four and your fallen comrade were involved in some sort of prophecy. Tonight we'll be holding a meeting to discuss it. Now if you have any sense of gratitude in you at all, then you'll talk to Albus." At Spike's eye roll, he added, "And, if you happen to be lacking that bit of humanity, you may be more willing with the knowledge that Albus is presently inviting a few of your old associates--or so the gossip runs--to join us. I do believe her name is Buffy Summers."

End Notes: Sorry for the shortness of this chapter. I decided to leave off the scene change until next chapterwhen I'll wave the big 'department of backstory' flag. I know this draws up some questions, but they will be answered in due time. Tell me what you think!