Author's Note: I am not going into the whole Mrs. Summers/Giles' conversation over Buffy and her slaying duties. I do not think that I can do it justice, and I believe that (after trying several times) it only bogs the story down.

777

Kendra bolted upright in bed, a scream dying on her lips. Sweat drenched her vision and she struggled furiously to free herself from the covers tangled about her body. Rushing into the bathroom, the entire contents of her stomach were dumped into the toilet.

Shaking hands pushed her hair back, away from her sweaty forehead. Her mind felt too numb to process more than a few words and these words drilled themselves into her mind with fevered precision. Slaughtered, they circled about, echoing in her mind and crescendoing with every word, slaughtered like animals. Penned up in chambers all across the country, stolen from both family and trusted friends to be killed. Slaughtered.

"This behavior is unacceptable for a Slayer," Mr. Zabuto said from behind her. "You have had a dream of prescience and need to record it, not indulge in weakness."

"Weakness?" she repeated in utter disbelief. "How is it weakness to mourn for my sisters who are fallen? Who have been robbed of their lives unfairly?"

"Death happens to the Slayers. It is their life's path," he stoically replied.

"But not on such a large scale," Kendra said, standing up and facing him head on. "Don't you care about the utter wrongness of their deaths?"

"Emotions are a weakness that you cannot afford," he sternly rebuked her. "You will stop acting like a child and return to your duties."

Kendra pushed past him, ashamed of his words and her actions. But she was angry at him-angry with the way he denigrated the deaths of the Slayers. These deaths were needless and she hurt for them. "I never left my duty just because I have taken the time to mourn," she slowly said, turning to face him. "You are the one who taught me that. Sam, what's happened to you? Why are you so different?"

Sam stared at her, not even acknowledging her hand reaching for his. Reaching out for some comfort from him. "I am not as lax in my training of you as Mr. Giles chooses to be. I will not have you disrespecting me in such a manner no matter the nature of our partnership."

"I meant no disrespect, Mr. Zabuto," she softly said, her hand dropping. Slowly, she turned and walked to the desk, sitting down. Pulling out the notebook, she uncapped the pen and began to write.

'Tonight, I have become reacquainted with my lonely exile among the living. I am neither living nor am I truly dead for though I walk in a land of shadows and the deceased, I breathe out the essence of life with every step I take. It is the fundamental nature of the Slayer to be alone, with no one at her side as she takes the stand against evil. Even having a fellow sister warrior with her is nothing for the Slayer must stand alone in order to be strong in her battle.

Truly, these are words that I can no longer believe for they are not true. A Slayer united with another becomes stronger for together they fill up the weaknesses of the other. The world is to vast a place for one warrior to stand alone against the immense darkness that fills it. To be with another is not a deterrent but a strength for it gives one a stronger purpose than merely saying that one is the Chosen One and must fight for duty's sake alone.

My sister Slayers have fallen this night-I must remember them and fight the fight that they have been denied.'

A strangled sound escaped Mr. Zabuto's throat as he read her words. "Highly sentimental, would you not say?"

"Perhaps that is so but it is true," Kendra replied, placing her pen down. "These words are how I feel. As this is the chronicle of my life, the words I write down should reflect my own beliefs. They should reflect the knowledge that I have acquired and how it has changed my own perception. I will not fail in my sacred duty not only because it is my duty but because the fight is no longer my own. The Slayer should walk separately from the world but she is not alone. She never has been."

"The Slayer is alone."

"The first Slayer was alone," she agreed with him, "But the Slayer now is not. We reach out across the generations, thousands strong and adding into every life with more strength and knowledge than the previous Slayer ever had. We are united. We are One. There is no changing that. I must see if Buffy has had the same experience. Together we will mourn and be stronger for it."

777

Oz blinked blearily into the weak morning light that poured into the room he was in. For a moment, he was disoriented and weak. And, most disturbingly of all, he didn't know where he was. Memory flooded him when he felt the furry body beside him stir and the glowing eyes of the werewolf opened, looking at him curiously.

Not knowing what else to do, Oz lay there and stared back. Taking a moment, he studied the gorgeous grey wolf before glancing down at the ground. Somehow he knew that he was the subordinate to the older werewolf and he did not want to think of what might happen if anything he did was perceived as a challenge.

He was not exactly up to the strength of his counterpart and the idea of being gored to death did not appeal to him.

The werewolf nuzzled him for a moment before rolling back over. Though he was still alert, it was obvious that the wolf had decided that he was not a threat-and that he was all right with his presence so close to him.

Only then did Oz slowly rise to his feet. Walking over to the drawer, he picked up the key, unlocked it, and pulled out his clothes. Once dressed, he made his way slowly about the room. The disoriented feeling did not abate, though it became easier to bear.

A rap on the door had the wolf instantly up and growling in warning. "It's just me," Sirius called out. "I hope that you are a safe distance away from the door, Oz."

"I am," he replied once he'd moved away from the door again.

The door opened and a large black dog entered the room. The dog and the wolf stared at each other, measuring the other and Oz took the moment to walk out the door, closing it behind him. Harry met him there, a mug of something in his hands. "Professor Snape left this for you. He said it would help."

Nodding, he quickly swallowed the steaming drink, wincing slightly at the bitter taste. Looking back up, he noticed the absolutely fascinated look on Harry's face. The boy quickly averted it, shamed, "Ask. I don't mind."

"What's it like? Being a werewolf," Harry elaborated before he lost his nerve. "I know it's terrible for Professor Lupin but you don't seem affected like he is. And I know that you're a different breed, but it doesn't make sense that it would change that much about you."

"Mindless."

"What?" he gaped at the one word reply.

"Mindless," he repeated. "There is no thinking when I am a wolf. It is all pure instinct wherein I, as a human being, do not exist. All I know is the moon, the hunt, the smell of prey, and I do not have to do anything more than just be."

Harry stared at him, "then why would you want to come back? It sounds so…easy."

"It is easy. That is why I want to come back," Oz replied.

"I don't get it."

Oz shrugged, "That is something that I cannot help you understand for I cannot explain it any other way."

"You could try," Harry argued. But it was only a reflexive action.

"Mr. Osborne, how do you feel?" Professor Snape's voice carried down the hall, entering their conversation. Both teens looked at him, Harry with more than a trace of worry.

"Tired. A little disoriented. Other than that, I feel all right. Thank you for the potion."

Severus waved it off. "It was nothing more than a common courtesy since you are allowing me to use you as a guinea pig. I would advise you to go home and get some rest, the potion will wear off soon enough and you will not wish to pass out from tiredness. Mr. Potter, thank you for giving him the potion."

"Sure," Harry said, startled by this.

"Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must go."

777

Two days later, Severus was in the library. Giles knocked and entered, carrying the book he'd been studying for the past few days with him. Opening it up to the passage, he passed it over for Severus' perusal. He read it, "You have got to be kidding," he flatly denied what he'd read.

Giles' affronted expression spoke volumes "I assure you that I am not. The research clearly indicates that two must defeat your dark wizard now that he has been resurrected from his death for he straddled both ends of death. And that the two must be blood relatives," he added, pointing to that particular passage.

"It cannot be for Mister Potter has no living wizard relatives. His father was an only child, born late in the lives of his parents."

"There is no one?" he asked, pressing him. The Watcher within him twitched, recognizing some secret being withheld. There was something that the professor was not telling him-and this was not the time for him to be secretive. It was not only the wizard's world that was in danger-if Voldemort succeeded, then the mortal realm would perish in his deadly flames.

"No one of any consequence," he reluctantly conceded the last part, compelled by his innate code to be honest with the man.

"Who is it?"

"Does it matter? The person is not a full blood relative."

Giles' head shook. "Blood magic doesn't care about that. You know that as well as I do. All it needs is for the familial line to be present. Whether on the mother's side or the father's, all that is necessary is for it to be family. Would it be possible to reach this person?"

Severus sighed, a pained sigh that came from deep inside. "You already have."

"Oh? Who is…Oh," Giles stopped, understanding the problem. "I see. Mister Potter does not know, does he?" It sounded like a question but the answer was only all too apparent.

"I had no intention of ever telling him. The problems the revelation would cause would be incalculable-especially to Mister Potter."

"Yes, I have heard of your past. But shouldn't he have a say in this matter? Should it not be his choice whether he should know or not? All other ones have been taken from his hands, even his right to be a child. You condemn the headmaster for doing what you, yourself, are doing-making the decisions for him."

The professor was silent, contemplating Giles' words. Contemplating the truth of them, though he hated to hear it so baldly stated.

Harry moved back, confusion and shame on his face. He knew that he shouldn't have listened to their conversation but he was tired of not knowing anything. Of being shut out of every decision that had to do with his prophesized destiny, whatever that really entailed.

Both fled as anger coursed through his veins.

His eyes narrowed, flashing as he contemplated the thought of Snape being his relative. How could he? How could he treat his own…whatever they were to each other as if his very presence angered him?

How could he know the truth about the Dursley's and leave him there to suffer? To spend every single night, beaten into emotional subjection and cry himself to sleep merely because he was 'dirty' in their eyes? To be denied the full extent of his heritage and family, to never really know who he truly was?

How could one man be so spiteful as to do this to an innocent child merely because of a hatred for the man who fathered him?

"And how, my son, could he protect you if he had been tossed into Azkaban for daring to claim you as his family? As his nephew through me? For other than Albus-who does not actually know this secret, no other would support him. If his claim had been approved, you would've been ostracized by the entire wizarding world because of who he is and was. They might have imprisoned you with him, fearing a new Dark Lord rising inside of you. Had he been ignored, the Death Eaters would've trailed you both for they knew him well. They would have believed his claims of family and sought revenge against him and you, believing that he betrayed them for us. And Voldemort would have won in the end," Lily calmly said. "Or you would've turned out as arrogant as Malfoy, puffed up in your own grand reputation, having been raised in your own legend because they granted him custody of you"

"Why would they kill me?" Harry asked reflexively, before it hit him and he stared in utter disbelief at who was talking to him. "Mom?"

She smiled as she came fully into focus, a faint glow of amber around her. "You should have listened and believed Sirius when he told you that we are not far from your side. We have always been beside you, though we cannot breach the barrier of life and death as often as we wish to."

"Then why have you never come before? Why? I needed you," he yelled, inadvertently causing the windows to rattle. "Whenever the Dursley's hurt me, I needed to be held. I needed someone to hold me, to tell me that everything would be all right. I needed to hear that I was loved, that I wasn't a freak. And you never came to me. Why now? Is he more important to you than I am?"

"No. Never. You are my son, the most precious gift I ever received. You, Harry, are the best thing I ever created. Severus may be my half brother but you are my heart, the delightful treasure of my life. I was not complete until I had you."

"Then why?" he asked, reaching out to her, on the verge of tears.

"I…" Lily stopped, unable to answer.

"Only during times of greatest need can one of the dead who died not fearing their death cross back over. And only one with the purest of souls can do so and not be harmed," Severus quietly answered the question. "Lily."

"Severus," she smiled at him happily, relieved to have the answer given to Harry's question before her eyes flashed in the same angry manner her son's had. "You absolute rotter! How dare you treat my son-your nephew-so hideously? There is no excuse for your behavior towards him. Absolutely none. How dare you? For I well remember how much you loved him. I remember that it was you who saved the both of us from death on the night he was born. I remember that you-and only you-could soothe his great fears of the darkness and help him to sleep easily when his nightmares came. I remember every time you snuck into that house and held him, rocked him so gently when the night terrors-for these where no nightmares-came so fast and furious upon him as that night was revisited in his mind. The illnesses in him you cured because my horrid sister cared not a wit for him. Your countless acts of anonymous love and devotion for him spread across the years, they are a part of what has made Harry, Harry. So, explain it to me, dearest brother of my heart. Explain to me how you could do what you did to him."

"Lily," he groaned, seeing Harry's eyes widen and fly to him, questions by the dozens flowing in them as he started to gravitate towards him, begging for some scrap of affection. Of confirmation that what he was hearing was the truth.

"Don't 'Lily' me, you pompous, arrogant jack arse. I won't have it. You did, you know it and I know it for I witnessed them all, there's no need to hide it anymore. What I want to hear is your justification for treating him so shamefully during his first few years at Hogwarts when you know what it is like to be bullied and hated," Lily bitingly reminded him of the past.

"I have none to offer you, Lily, that would ever justify my behavior. I am what I am," he simply said.

"Yes, you are my true family," she snapped. Severus could see that she valiantly fighting the urge to smack him. Well remembering her powerful right, he was relieved that it was one part she could not bridge. The woman had broken his nose before, he feared what she could accomplish in the mood she was in. "And I'm still not hearing the why, Severus Snape. I am not hearing it at all. Explain it to me."

"I can't!" he yelled. "And you know it. What I did had reasons in fear of the Dark Lord, fear of the Death Eaters. Out of the knowledge that the Dark Lord was not truly gone and I had to keep my cover for his return, I knew it would come."

"All good reason, to be sure," she mocked him. "But not the one I'm waiting for-the only true reason for anything you've done."

"What do you want me to say? That I did it out of love?" he asked, frustrated despair coloring his words. "Is that what you want to hear? That all that I've ever done has been to protect him, to prepare him because I love him? Because he's all that I have left of you?"

"Yes, because you do," Lily quietly said, a soft smile crossing her face again. "Why must you always admit the truth under duress? There is no shame in loving us, Severus, no stigmata attached to what you feel. You, my idiot brother, are allowed to love."

Harry's eyes had never left Severus, though he did glance at his mom several times, shocked by the tone she used on his professor. Almost appalled by the way she hammered at him, never letting up until she got the answer she wanted. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow but he was, to all intents and purposes, an honest boy.

Snape loved him.

He loved him-and hated himself for it, transferring that hate upon Harry.

His head hurt from trying to figure it out-and his heart ached from the rejection he knew was coming but hadn't wanted it to happen all the same. He couldn't help it, all he wanted was to be loved. It was really the only thing he wanted in life, to feel of some worth to someone.

Even if it was Snape's love, he craved it. Though expecting it, he hadn't wanted that rejection to come at all.

"There is every shame, Lily. You and Harry live in the light, in the purity of love. But I? I have ever dwelt in twisted shadows and hate. As such, I will never be comfortable nor at home where you are. Never." Paling in pain, he quickly turned and made for the door, shaking with every step. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to carry on. Voldemort had not been this harsh in calling them in a while. "Har…Potter, see Giles. He has found a way to defeat the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Professor Snape," he replied, voice subdued and quiet in the hallway. Looking up at his mother, he quietly asked, "Will he ever accept me?"

"Harry, he already has-it is himself that he cannot accept. My precious son, Severus has had a brutal past and he was betrayed by one he loved dearly. And he is a hard man to know. An even harder man to love-and he will never yield. But he will always love those whom he has let inside his fortress. Always."

"I don't understand."

"They who know darkness intimately as he does cling to the light ever more fervently, never yielding a meter in the fight for they cannot bear to see a world in which darkness has won for they know what it is like. They fight to preserve the light for they understand in ways that we cannot just how beautiful, how worthy it is."

"Professor Snape is inhuman in that regard. Mrs. Potter is right about him. He never allows himself the luxury to yield-and pushes all the more furiously those he's associated with who he has grown to care about," Blaise dispassionately observed. She did not look that surprised to see the ghost of Lily Potter in the foyer of the mansion. "Does anyone know what's happened to Draco?"

"His father," Harry sneered, "Came for him."

"Again?" Pansy asked, leaning over the banister. "That is not good, not good at all. Blaise, call a meeting. I'll get what we'll need." Descending the stairs, she walked into Snape's lab.

"What's going on?" Harry asked the unusually unsettled Slytherin girl.

Blaise only glanced at him once, "Slytherin business."

"Of course," he bitterly muttered, shaking off his disappointment with effort. "Mom?"

"You need to see Giles now. I am no longer able to hold onto this mortal realm. Remember love, my sweet one, for it is the only thing that can stop Voldemort. He will be defeated, not by strength of arms or through magic alone, but with the one thing that he cannot understand or comprehend-unconditional love."

Harry nodded. It was the one thing he understood for it had been love that had saved him all those years ago. "I love you, mom."

"I love you," she dropped a ghostly kiss upon his head and then, with a gentle, loving smile, she faded from sight.

But not from his heart.

Walking into the library, Harry inclined his head in greeting, "Professor Snape said you have something to show me?"

End, Part 17