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Buffy sat in her living room, waiting for her mother to come home, nervously twisting her fingers. She wasn't exactly sure what to say to her when she did see her mom. She wasn't even sure why she'd been asked, more like ordered, to come straight home after school. Things had settled down around the house after Professors McGonagall and Snape had met with her mom. Even her father and his fiancée had been silent after meeting the teachers-she couldn't blame them for that. Snape was a memorable jerk who really…got things done.

So, what was going on?

Joyce Summers came in and stood in the doorway, studying her daughter as she sat there, her hands clutched together with a death grip in her lap. Closing her eyes for a moment to gather her own thoughts and stiffen her spine against the coming discussion, she entered the room. "Buffy," she started to say, sitting down across from her. "There are a few things we need to discuss. First, I don't want you to go over to that house again."

"But, mom, really," she started.

"No, Buffy. This is not open to discussion. Willow and the friends you've made there may come over to our house. In fact, I would prefer this. While I was impressed with both professors, I do not want you over there. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't."

Joyce had been expecting this. For a moment, she didn't know what to say. For a moment, her resolve faltered but, looking at Buffy brought to mind what she'd learned, it hardened once again. She would protect her. "I didn't think you would. But I expect you to do it anyway. It has recently come to my attention that there are certain dangers in this town. Dangers that I do not want you exposed to."

"You mean the vampires?" she asked, taking the chance.

"What do you know of them?"

"Mom, I've known about them from the first night we were here. I lost a friend to them," she said.

"And you did not tell me?"

"You wouldn't have believed me. I mean, could you have brought yourself to believe me that vampires are real?"

Joyce's expression hardened momentarily, before she sighed, conceding the point. She would have found the idea laughable. "You should have given me the choice, not taken it out of my hands."

"I'm sorry but I can't tell you everything." She bowed her head momentarily, knowing that she was still omitting the full truth.

"How about some things, Buffy? There was a time when you told me everything that went on, no matter how trivial and silly it seemed. Now, I feel like I don't know who you are any more. I know that teenagers need to find their own voice, their own identity, have their independence from their parents, but I feel like I'm living with a stranger. A stranger who has my daughter's face," Joyce said, a slight bitterness coloring her voice.

"Join the club," she weakly joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Why did you say that? Buffy, this is not a joking matter."

You have no idea about how much I realize that this wasn't a joke, she thought bitterly. But I have to laugh about it or the weight of it will drive me utterly mad. I wish that I could tell you all about what is going on inside my heart, inside my mind, but I can't. I can't because you would never accept that there are just some things that I have to do that you won't like. That you will hate. You are not ready to accept who I really am. I hate to admit this, even if it's only to myself, but I don't think you ever will be.

"I know, mom. I don't mean to shut you out," much, she mentally added, "but things are just so complicated right now."

"Life is complicated, Buffy, that's why you have me to help you deal with the things that you don't understand. There are things you can't handle on your own. I want to help you so much it hurts, but I can't if you don't let me."

"Mom, there are some things that you can't fix," she said.

"But Mr. Giles can?" she asked.

"What?" she gasped. "What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that innocent look, Buffy. Why do you go to Mr. Giles with your problems? Why not me? Is it because he is a man? Is a male role model what you need?"

I'm wearing a look? What look is that? The one that screams, 'mom, I'm a slayer and I was called to save the world'? Is there even such a look? Breathe, Buffy, you've got to stop doing this. This is the second time you've channeled Willow-and all without the same level of cuteness she has. "Mom, I'm a vampire slayer."

"A what?"

"A vampire slayer," she repeated. "More to the point, I am the Vampire Slayer. A Chosen One born to fight the vampires."

"Buffy, really. If you can't take this seriously," she started, frustration in her voice.

"I'm telling you the truth, mom." Buffy stood up and started to pace, forcing herself to stop after a moment. The pacing, while it helped ease her nervous energy, was not helping. "Giles knows who I am because he's my watcher. It is his job to keep me alive, to train me, to die helping me. And before you ask, no. He isn't the one who told me. In LA, I had a watcher who died trying to keep me alive because I did not take him seriously. I didn't believe him either. How could I? What he was telling me about was to fantastic, to unreal. And he died because I didn't believe him."

Shaking her head, wanting to deny the truth she read in her daughter's eyes, Joyce found that she couldn't. There was just too much pain, too much knowledge there, to deny it. "How long?" she whispered, wanting desperately to have something to focus on as the world steadily came down around her head.

"Since before you and daddy split. That's why I set the school on fire. There were vampires in there, to many to be destroyed by one person."

"I knew," she whispered. "It seems like I've always known there was more to your behavior than our breaking up."

"Yeah, I was hurt by that. But I understood," Buffy softly said, sitting by her mother. Her arm went around the shaking body, comforting her-and finding it ironic that she was doing so. "I could see what was going on. You and daddy just couldn't be together anymore. You didn't love each other enough. I knew it wasn't me. Well, I mostly knew."

"Why didn't you tell me later?"

"Mom, you would've insisted that we move," she said.

"And we should," she said, agitated by the way Buffy was acting, as though it was on no consequence that what she was doing could get her killed. That the next day cold be her last. "I don't want you fighting these horrible creatures anymore. This is no job for a young girl. You should be in school, learning, dating, having fun."

"I am," she protested, wondering where she was going to find the right words to convince her mom when she felt the doubts. Felt that she shouldn't have to do this anymore. "I have friends. I enjoy school because of them. I have dated a few times. I have fun, even if it's not the kind of fun others have. But, mom, being a slayer isn't something that I can pick up and put down just because it is an inconvenience at times."

"An inconvenience? Buffy, this is not just an inconvenience." Her mother stated, staring at her, her eyes brimming with tears. "This is your life."

"I know."

"Then why don't you stop?"

"Because being a slayer is not just a word, mom, it is who I am." There was a new conviction in her voice. A new sense of purpose behind her that added strength to her, an awareness of just who and what she was-and what she needed to do.

Her mother looked at her, mouth open to say something but she overrode her, keeping to the same even tone that she'd been using. "I am Buffy Summers, that is true. But I am also one of the few girls chosen to stop the forces of evil. And I can't run away from that. People depend upon me whether they know it or not, whether they like it or not. Whether I like it or not, so I can't just stop because it's not something I like to do.

"I am the Vampire Slayer."

777

Faith opened her eyes. The darkness hung about her so heavily, pressing against her like an all-encompassing blanket, that she shivered away from its icy touch. She'd never thought that darkness had such a telling presence until that moment.

Now that she knew, she wished that she did not. Changing her thoughts to something more productive than focusing on her anxieties, she closed her eyes for a moment before opening them. Blinking uncertainly a few times, she waited for the blankness to recede.

Nope.

Still black.

Dang.

Shaking off her confusion and the slight sense of panic, she resolutely straightened her spine and decided to find out what was going on. Pushing up off the ground uncertainly, she began to feel around, searching for a door or window.

Even a wall would be nice for there would be a switch of some kind to illuminate the room.

As she searched, she racked her brain for some kind of clue as to what had happened to her. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the cemetery with her mother. Correcting that thought instantly to watcher.

They had been reviewing her extra curricular homework when her world had exploded into a fiery wreath of pain. She hoped her mo…watcher was all right. Extending her pre-slayer senses, mystified when she felt nothing. Trying again, she drew into her center as she'd been taught and focused all her energies on her hearing.

Nothing.

Fighting down a sense of panic, she tried to search out with her other senses. May be whatever caused the explosion is messing with my sight and hearing, she thought, trying to keep her mind occupied on the here and now. Thinking about where she was would not help her any.

Yet, the result this time was the same.

She could feel nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, she could feel nothing in the room at all. There was an absence in it that bothered her. She knew that all rooms have a feel, a presence.

This one had none.

And the fact that she could barely move her limbs worried her. It felt like she imagined walking through jell-o would. All take with no consistent give. She felt weaker than she'd thought possible, even though she knew that she wasn't up to the full strength of a slayer.

Still, all potentials possessed a bit of the preternatural strength and power of the slayer. If they did not, they could not train at the proper level. They could not prepare themselves truly for the greater abilities that lay before them.

And when the mantle of the Slayer fell upon them, they would be singularly unable to work for it would crush them under its weight.

Don't worry about that right now. It isn't as important as finding a way out of here. Finish your study of the room, she counseled herself, trying to reign in her quick breathing. The last thing she needed was to have a panic attack in a strange place that seemed to have no entrance…she cut that thought off instantly, knowing she didn't need to think that. There has to be a way out of here, you can feel a light breeze. So, air must be flowing to and from the room. To put it bluntly, there must be a window somewhere.

It wasn't long before she realized the awful truth. A sense of dread filled her as she admitted the truth, she was trapped in a box. Clamping down on the scream that threatened to claw its way out her throat, she slapped herself.

Literally.

Faith, get a hold of yourself. Stop and think about this problem. What would anyone gain from doing this? Even the demon world would not do this. You must have made a mistake. Go to the corner and start again. Count it out, slowly, and keep track this time. There must've been an error. After all, you weren't paying attention. This time you are. You will find a way out of here.

With this encouraging thought in mind, the potential slayer began to move slowly, counting her steps as she did. But no matter how many times, the result was the same. Sinking to her knees, her back hit the wall, and, try to keep them at bay though she did, tears escaped her eyes.

That's when she smelled it. Fighting down waves of panic, she categorized the smell as calmly as she was capable of.

Gas.

777

The man in the chair swung about, the lightening in the darkened sky shielding his face and giving it a hard marble like appearance. "You got all of the potentials from the states gathered at the place?"

"Except for the babies and Buffy Summers, yes." They had agreed that the babies would be ignored, for now. There was just too much of a chance that they would be noticed. One couldn't go around kidnapping babies from the hospital at an alarming rate without someone seeing.

"Good. She will be handled later for she still has some use to us."

"And the others?"

"Kill them," the order was coldly uttered. This man had no concern for the lives of these girls. His whole life had been leading up to a moment like this, realigning things the way they should be. They should never have let the American Slayers live as long as they had.

"Yes, Mr. Travers."

777

Willow stopped suddenly at the top of the stairs. Ron, who was right behind her, made an irritated sound in his throat after nearly colliding with her. "Shhhhh!" she hissed, pointing to the tall, blond man walking their way. "Who is that?" There was a sense of a dangerous something emanating from him. A feeling she couldn't place and didn't like.

Peering over her shoulder, he dismissively snorted, recognizing the wizard starting up the stairs. A pained expression on his face, he answered her question. Keeping his voice quiet as if he recognized the imminent danger, "That is Lucius Malfoy."

"Crap!" she jumped back and ducked behind him. "He's one of those people Professor Snape never wants me to meet."

"Ah, as much as I applaud his good taste, why? I thought they were thicker than thieves."

"I could really care less why he doesn't want me to associate with him. It was not one of the things I thought to ask him as he was giving me a lecture on other things that I must do and not do. But, unlike you, I have no real desire to piss off Professor Snape through disobedience. Come on," she hauled him into one of the empty rooms.

Going with her willingly enough, Ron wondered how she'd react if this was one of the rooms that kicked him out. "I don't have a desire to piss him off," he protested in a fierce whisper. He kept a watch on the path in front of the door by keeping it cracked open. "You do realize that he's going to look in here, right?"

The footsteps were getting closer even as he said it.

Waving him to be quiet, she looked about and then opened the window, climbing out of it. Sticking her head back in, she rebutted his words. "Oh, yes, you do. You and Harry are always getting it into your thick skulls to do things that are sure to get him upset. And then you wonder why he takes points and assigns detentions to you. Professor Snape is a harsh taskmaster, but he is not a monster. He gave us a good grade on our report, didn't he?"

Following her out the window and shutting it, he slid down the roof until he reached the tree. Holding out his hand, he guided her down to his position. "Only because Malfoy was on our team. If it had been just us, we wouldn't have scored so high."

"There you go again, thinking that it was only because of Draco that we got a good grade. We got what we deserved because we worked hard on it. We all pitched in and wrote it together and he gave us a fair grade. Honestly, Ron…" her voice trailed off as she realized where they were. "Uh, Ron?"

"Yeah?" he asked, watching as the color slowly drained out of her face.

"You know what?" she nervously nibbled her lip, "I don't think I like heights."

"You couldn't have mentioned this earlier?"

"I didn't think about it." A light breeze blew and the house moved. Flinging herself at Ron with a semi-scream, she latched onto him, wishing she'd never had the brilliant idea to climb out here.

It wasn't one of her better ideas.

Girls, he thought, barely having the time to reposition his body before she collided into him. But he somehow managed it and wrapped an arm about her, keeping them both on the roof. Looking about, he noticed Hermione and Amy below them, wondering if he could call them without attracting unwanted attention.

Feeling the shaking of the girl in his arms, he decided to risk it. "Hermione!" he hissed, glancing up once at the closed window. "Amy!" he tried again, hoping one would hear him-and soon.

777

"Familial loyalty?" he sneered, ignoring Sirius' own question even though it demanded some kind of answer. His eyebrow rose as if daring him to say something. "How quaint-and surprising considering your rather checkered past with your family. Perhaps you should remember who they are, if only to think of Narcissa and what she thinks of this situation."

That thought stopped Sirius cold. A smile twisted his face as he thought of his cousin. Shaking his head, he stepped back. "I almost find it in me to pity Malfoy. Narcissa is nothing if not the epitome of selfishness. She must've been pleased to hear what he's gone and done."

"Yes. For all his pride in his father, Draco is more loyal to his mother. She is the quintessential model of what they view as wizard pride, more so than Lucius. In her, Draco finds the example of what he wishes to be. Autocratic and coldly authoritative as all pure blooded," he sneered out the term, reminding Sirius once again of how foolish Severus thought the concept was, "Wizards should be. She would never be caught doing what his father does. I'm afraid it will be quite a blow to Draco when he sees his father bowing down to his Lord so willingly, in such an abasing manner."

"It still doesn't seem right," Sirius said, moving back to sit in his seat. "Bringing a child before that…that dark creature."

"And letting our war be fought by children is?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Harry Potter is a child. For all of his accomplishments, he is a child. A child whose shoulders the entire wizarding world has placed the burden of fighting and defeating Voldemort upon. He has risen to the occasion myriads of times because no one else will do it. With his two friends to aid him, he has successfully defeated him." he paused, staring at Sirius contemplatively. "How fair is that? Especially when the man he considers to be a friend and mentor will have nothing to do with him ever since a certain revelation came along for he has cut him almost entirely out of his life."

Sirius met the eyes and flinched, seeing the open condemnation in them. "I've got to go."

"He's in the library." Severus called out after the retreating figure. Getting rather maudlin in your declining years, Severus.

Yet, there had been no other option for he could feel the weight of his sister's stare upon him. An angry stare that had been focused on him ever since Harry had revealed his rather surprising connection with Voldemort. A stare that told him he better fix this problem or she would.

A few moments later, Blaise entered the room and waited for him to acknowledge her. "Yes?" he finally asked when she just stood there, a disgruntled look on her face. He found her silence interesting for she, like his other students, knew that they could just enter his lab and speak to him about anything.

He rarely turned them away.

"I suppose you are responsible for the disgusting scene I just witnessed."

"To what do you refer?"

Flopping down on the chair abandoned by Black, she crossed her arms and glared at him. "I was reading quite peacefully when that ghastly wretch of a wizard entered and started blubbering apologetically to Potter. It was so sickening that I almost lost my stomach."

"Blaise, there are some beings who need human compassion. Those two are examples, you should never forget that." He stopped, holding up his hand. Creeping over to the window, he glanced out and reached down. Grasping the surprised listener by his collar, he pulled him up and into the room, flinging him down into the center of the room, casting a quick spell to hold him in place.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" He smiled forbiddingly at the sound of the frightened squeak, noting absently that Blaise had gotten up and left the room. "If it isn't little Peter Pettigrew."

End, part 14