Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter, BtVS, or Ats. No copyright infringement attempted.
Chapter 11: For Your Viewing Pleasure
Accusations. Curses.
The shouting match on the second floor to The Burrow was nearly shaking the entire house, but the current participants were not letting up, at least not willingly.
Buffy stormed down the narrow stairs, her eyes on the wallpaper, blood in her tight cheeks.
"We're not discussing this," she stated.
If anyone else had heard those words, her livid tone, they would have dropped the subject, but Angel bound behind her, grabbing hold of her shoulder. His touch wasn't hostile, but her body tensed as if he were an attacker. He let go before she had a chance to flip him off the staircase and ruin the Weasley family's furniture. She turned on him, stomping up two stairs to meet him.
"Do you really want to get into this here?" she asked.
Angel was immune to her anger. "Yes, because otherwise I won't get a chance. Buffy, you keep acting like this is my fault, but you're the one who decided to toss the trust between us out the door. I came to you before you had to take on the First—I came to help you."
"I know that," she snapped, pushing back a strand of blond hair that had flown into her face.
In truth, she was more flustered that she appeared, and what frustrated her to an even greater extend was the fact that Angel could ignite her anger after all this time. If it had been anyone else, she would have been solid, a rock that could be hurled with direct precision. Instead she was tripping over her own words.
"I know you wanted to help, Angel," she continued, her voice low. "But the fact remains that you went to work for the wrong team. That trust issue is your fault."
"You would have done the same thing," he said, his voice bitter. "To save lives, you would have done the exact same thing."
"That's where you're wrong!" she snapped, her voice rising once more. "I was given a choice. I was offered the power to take on the First by myself. But I knew what that meant and I knew what I'd lose for it. Everything has a price, Angel."
Her eyes wandered up the staircase, catching a set of blue ones near the top. Spike was lagging behind the two, purposefully. Buffy felt her cheeks grow even hotter. She should have known, should have been given the chance to know, to come out of mourning.
"What I did had a high price, you're right," Angel hissed. His voice had dropped to dangerous level as he regained her attention. "That doesn't give you the right to act as if you're better, Buffy. I did what I did for a reason, too. I paid my price. You should have trusted in me, but I knew you didn't. Hell, you didn't even trust me to get one of your slayers help."
Buffy grew still, crossing her arms. "Help? You would have helped her? Really? That's funny because I was under the assumption that you would have sent her to someone inside your evil firm for help." Her eyes darkened. "You would have put a disturbed slayer in their hands. And you didn't expect me to stop you?"
"That's not true, Buffy," a voice answered.
It took Buffy a moment to realize that it was Spike's. She blinked in surprise.
"You know it isn't," Angel growled. "How could you possibly think that?"
"How could I not!" Buffy scoffed. She shook her head, suddenly noticing her surroundings. "This isn't the place for this."
She turned to go.
"If we don't talk about this now, we'll never talk about it," Angel said.
"This discussion is over, Angel."
Angel opened his mouth to speak, his jaw set tightly in rage. Spike stepped down, putting a patting hold on his grandsire's shoulder.
"Later," Spike assured.
Angel closed his mouth, lowering his head in thought.
"What just happened?" the slayer asked. Buffy had heard Spike's reply and come to a stop at the bottom step. She looked up, her brow wrinkled in mock confusion as she stared in wonderment at the vampires. "Oh, that's great. So you two are getting along now. I guess there is another apocalypse coming after all. Lucky me."
Spike groaned.
o)0(o
Xander leaned back into the sunken seated sofa, literally piddling his thumbs as he watched the two teenage boys nearly fall out of their seats in attempt to see the on-going fight between the slayer and her ex-lovers. They didn't have a problem hearing it, of course.
"So," Xander said.
Ron and Harry turned back from staring through the foyer opening, their eyes somewhat dazed. Xander was mentally chuckling at the two. Apparently Buffy's affairs were far more entertaining to outsiders. Xander, on the other hand, was feeling a bit awkward with the whole display. Ron had just finished telling Harry about the other "guests" staying at the Weasley house when the argument had broken out, and Xander wasn't quite sure how he felt about the arrangement. Especially considering he didn't get along with either vampire very well. And that he had no idea how Spike was actually amongst the nonliving again.
"Go figure," Xander muttered to himself.
He'd thought about standing, coming to Buffy's defense. Then he realized that he wasn't sure if that would be a good idea. Discussions of Angel and with Angel were a bit dangerous for those with mere human strength.
"Are they always like this?" Ron asked.
Harry gave his friend a sharp glance before looking to Xander for the answer.
"You should see them when they're fighting," Xander smirked.
Ron's mouth dropped a bit lower. "Nutters," he hissed to Harry, his eyes going back to the lively staircase.
"They have a history, then?" Harry asked, his voice almost drowned out by Angel's yell.
"Oh, no," Xander said, quickly, "I'm not being story guy. You can take this little squabble as you will. It's not my history."
"What is, then?" Ron asked, turning back to the man. The red-head's eyes lifted uncertainly to Xander's black patch.
"What is what?"
"Your history." Ron smiled sheepishly. "When you came in, you mentioned something about demon women and such. What does your group actually do?"
"What does your group do?" Xander countered with a crooked grin.
The two came to a stand-off. Harry looked between them, a somewhat tired expression on his face.
"This is going to be an interesting evening," he noted.
o)0(o
To say Gunn was shocked by the sight before him would be a grave understatement. The man shook his head, putting a hand on the auror at his side's arm to stop her from advancing. He wasn't sure exactly how powerful Tonks was, but he didn't want to chance her getting between Illyria and the Old One's newest endeavor.
Endeavor. Gunn hoped to God that was the right word. Anything else might be downright disturbing.
"So, Illyria, having fun yet?" Gunn asked, somewhat hesitantly.
The Old One cocked her head, her piercing gaze meeting his in an instance. She didn't seem interested in the woman to his side.
Draco did. In fact, we looked as if he wanted something from Tonks. Help perhaps?
The young wizard was sprawled in the remains of the chair he'd been tied to, his hands over the fragments of rope that had restrained him. He was paler than pale, his hair in disarray, and his head bowed nearly to the floor and turned slightly. He had a look of desperation on his face as he lowered his cheek against the wood below him in a deep bow.
A bow. Gunn bit back this laugh, cataloguing the moment. He figured this wouldn't be as funny to the wizard servant at Illyria's feet.
"I approve of this one's form," Illyria stated. She kicked Draco's arm out from under him lightly, and he fell with a smack onto his stomach. A slight whimper escaped him. "Has he been claimed by another sovereign yet?" she asked, her voice calculating.
"You could say that," Tonks snorted.
Draco looked up at her with frightened eyes, shaking his head furiously. Tonks cut off her laughter, suddenly worried.
Illyria did not look at the witch, only Gunn. "He will entertain me," she noted. "I have not had a pet in many ages."
"OK." Gunn took a breath, giving the wizard a pitying glance. "How 'bout we talk to this over with Angel at dinner?"
Illyria was silent a moment longer before she curtly answered. "Very well. Leave now."
Gunn backed out of the room, shutting the door. He looked over to Tonks who seemed somewhat dumbfounded by Illyria's directness. "This is going to be an interesting evening."
End Notes: I hope this chapter was alright. Sorry for the long wait. The next chapter begins the evening's dinner…a long affair, indeed. We'll get back to the plot line there. Expect to see our favorite old headmaster and maybe even a dark, long nosed professor later. Enjoy! Oh, and thoughts on pairs would be good. I have some ideas to work with, but not for most of the side pairings. Advice is always helpful. Thanks!