This is one of my favorite chapters I've ever written. It brings in a character that wasn't part of the original story I started three years ago. Her appearance in the story and how she relates brings out feelings and actions in certain characters that changes perceptions, and I love it.

Another big announcement: This fic is finished. Something happened last Tuesday and the muse mashed out chapter 16, one of the most difficult chapters I tried to write. The muse continued on Wednesday, and I bashed out an addition 10,000 words and completely finished the fic. Yes, it's done. I will still only be posting a chapter a day.

I do have an idea for a sequel, but that is not my priority right now. NaNoWriMo is coming up, and I'm a co-ML for my area. I have two parties and a retreat planned during November, and I don't have time for fanfiction. I want to play with my own characters for a bit.

What I can do is post two chapters a week—Tuesday and Friday. That means the fic gets posted quicker and there is a longer time between this fic and the possible sequel. It's up to you guys. Until I get some feedback on that, I'll continue to post on Wednesday (like I do every week despite insist reviewers telling me to update sooner, which cracks me and Jacy up).

Now, onto the story! Thanks for the awesome feedback on chapter four. Also, bow to Jacy for her amazing beta skillz. She's my crazy best friend, as you can read on the Twisting the Hellmouth review board. ILYBB.

……………

Draco took his hand off of Willow's head with a sigh of irritation. Willow opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion.

"What? Is something wrong?"

Draco had been here for over a week, working with her on controlling her magic and healing the cracks and frays that riddled her aura. It was a difficult process, one that often made her want to quit and just crawl back into bed, but she was getting better. Draco pushed her and with his help, she was beginning to see a lot of progress.

Up until yesterday. For some reason, she was unable to make any noticeable strides in her healing, and her magic was starting to act up. She'd noticed it but hadn't said anything. It looked like Draco had finally seen it as well.

"There's a block on your healing. It's a strange heat," Draco told her as he stepped away from her. They were in the kitchen, the door to the back yard open to let the fresh summer air in. He went out and looked at the bright lawn and sighed again. "There's a heat surrounding your magic. You're having a problem getting past a feeling of guilt. A part of you wants this to hurt. You want to be punished."

Willow just stared at him with a shocked look on her face. "I've been feeling very hot lately, but I thought it was just from magical burnout. And as for the guilt, I just… I did something bad. I nearly destroyed the world. Shouldn't I be punished?"

Draco turned to her with crossed arms and a sour look on his face. "Every time you did something to save the world did you get a grand thank you?"

"But," Willow started to argue, but Draco interrupted her.

"Why is that different?"

"It was bad!" she shouted at him.

"From whose point of view?" he retorted, making her stop. "So you nearly destroyed the world. You've saved it, too. Just because being dark makes you different doesn't make it wrong. There is a line, Willow. You crossed it and now you're back. There is not one person that should tell you where that line is though. That's up to you."

Willow hunched over as she pondered Draco's words. "I still feel bad. Not necessarily like I'll never get over it, but I regret going that deep."

He took a seat next to her by the island. "There's more. There's a block that runs deeper than that, and it goes farther back. It's the heat surrounding your magic. You either tell me or I dig, and you might not like the digging. It's personal."

The red head squirmed in her seat. "I don't know for sure, but it may be Amy."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Madison? What does she have to do with this?"

"You know Amy?" Willow asked.

"I ran with Rack's crowd for a while when I was making deals, remember? Big scar, evil blood curse? Her name popped up a couple of times, but just how she had botched a transfiguration. I never met her."

"Well, she's a rat no longer." Willow folded her arms on the island and laid her head down on them. "I used my magic to de-rat her, and we pretty much wreaked havoc everywhere. She's the one who took me to Rack."

Draco was silent for a moment as he observed Willow. "I still don't understand. Why is she blocking your healing? What does she have to do with the heat? Surely you don't feel guilty for leaving her a rat for so long…"

"I feel guilty for not leaving her like that!" Willow snapped, but then quickly covered her mouth with hands. Draco's eyebrows shot up as tears gathered in Willow's eyes.

"I think that's not one of the options I ever thought of. Why?"

She took in a few deep, shuddering breaths. "I know I was going deep already, but if I had left her as a rat, she wouldn't have taken me dark, and then I wouldn't have known Rack." A small sob escaped her. "And then people would still be alive, and Amy wouldn't be…"

"Continuing on the path she had already gone down before she was turned into a rat?" Draco asked with a small grin. "How do you think she knew about Rack? Her mother knew Rack, and the familial contacts just kept trickling down. Her mother's family has been long time black art dealers. Amy's grandfather did business with my grandfather."

At Willow's shocked look, Draco's brow furrowed. "She didn't tell you," he said. "Eventually, the transfiguration would have been reversed, and she would have run back to her old life. Don't feel bad that she went deep. She lives there."

He slowly put a hand on Willow's head and closed his eyes, only to open them in a glare. "After knowing that you still have a problem?"

Willow made a face in retaliation, making Draco rolled his eyes. "I can't help it. There's a part of me that will feel better, get better, I know this! But at the same time, something is stopping it."

Draco kept gazing into her eyes that were now glossy with unshed tears. He straightened his back and put his hands on either side of her face, letting his palms rest gently below her ears. His thumbs gently rubbed back and forth on her cheeks, and he slowly leaned them together, until their heads touched.

"Let me in, just a bit. I have a theory."

Willow pulled back a bit and glared. "If you start singing, I'll smack you."

"I'm trying to be serious, and you want me to sing?" Draco glared at her as well. "Calm down and don't be nervous. I want to see something."

They went back to their previous position, Willow lightly leaning her weight on Draco's legs as she rested her palms on them. With an exhale, she leaned against him even more, his hands on her face keeping their heads still.

Suddenly jolted, Draco drew back with a resigned look on his face. "Even in death the bastard irritates me."

Willow looked at him curiously, not understand his words, but he didn't explain.

"Fine. I can see this is going to have to happen another way. I'll be back tomorrow."

Draco stood from the barstool and headed out the open back door. Willow nearly pitched forward, but caught herself and ran after him, leaning out the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

When he turned around, his grin was anything but cheerful. "Hunting."

He disappeared with a wave of his wand and a pop, leaving Willow staring at an empty backyard. Dawn came down the stairs and started rummaging through some cabinets.

"Watcha doin'?" she asked after putting a bowl on the counter. Willow turned around with a pout.

"Worrying about Draco's sanity."

Dawn snorted. "Welcome to the club."

……………………

Los Angeles, California

It was the next biggest hot spot for dark magic past Sunnydale. He'd had to pull some old strings to get into the club no questions asked. He hadn't been that worried about it. Just a flash of his left arm and he'd get in with the best service available for him, but he didn't want it known there was a Death Eater in town. That was liable to bring the American Ministry down on him, and getting in America undetected had been hard enough.

The sporadic lights let him glimpse around the packed area. It was a small, cramped warehouse that had wards crawling over every surface. It was perfect for dealers and addicts alike to get their fix.

Draco avoided the main floor and stuck to the shadows. As he was passing a random couple slumped against the wall, a young girl brushed against his left arm and immediately gasped, gripping his shoulder.

"It's hot. Are you—"

Draco captured her wrist in a bruising grip and slung her hand off his shoulder, shoving her into the wall. He should have put a cooling charm on his arm. The Dark Mark always radiated hot, a sign of intense and focused dark magic.

"Not. Interested."

He stalked off deeper into the warehouse, ignoring all the hands reaching for him. Draco's eyes were quickly looking over the faces until he saw the one he was searching for.

Amy Madison.

She was leaning against a chair that was turned away from the dance floor of the warehouse, and turned towards an ottoman and a long line of shaking and twitchy people. Amy was looking at a middle-aged man in a suit get a low hit that had him reeling. Both Amy and Draco sneered at the pathetic and weak display. The man rolled off the ottoman he had been sitting on and hit the floor with a dull thud, and the ottoman was replaced by a woman slightly younger, but no less new to dark magic.

When Draco looked up, Amy met his eyes. A small grin came over her face and she started to walk towards him, only to be stopped by the dealer sitting in the chair. It looked like she and the dealer had a bit of an ongoing fling.

It seemed she had made her point perfectly clear and she ripped her arm out of his grip before strolling over to him. Draco let a lazy smile curl over his features. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked, his voice dropping. Amy had to lean forward to hear him over the music.

"I don't know. I don't think you could make a better deal than the one I've got."

Draco walked backwards into the shadows, Amy following him. He pulled up his thin sleeves on his shirt and inwardly grinned when her eyes widened upon seeing his dark mark.

"Still think I won't be better?" She reached out to touch the mark, but he stopped her hand, making her look up into his eyes. "Ah, ah. Not yet. You can look but not touch. I'm very particular about who I keep in my company."

Amy's eyes narrowed and a calculating look came over her face. "Why should I have to pursue you so hard then? Haven't you noticed that you're not the only one with a bit of power here? Did you think your pretty face was enough to get you in and keep you here?" She gestured to the place where the Dark Mark had been hidden on his arm. "You're not the only one who plays around with shadows."

Draco wrapped an arm around Amy's back and pulled her closer. "Hmm, that may be, but I can tell you I'm very good at it. How else have I managed to stay undetected? Surely a Death Eater's magical signature is on record?" His eyebrow went up and she grinned. "I can be very sneaky when I want to be."

They were moving to the beat of the music. Draco leaned his head on hers and rode the waves of dark magic pulsing around them. He had come for a reason, but it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself.

"So what brings you to L.A.," Amy asked, looking up at him through dark eyelashes. One of her arms curled around his hips and the others attached itself to his neck, her fingers making designs on his neck.

"Looking for you," he whispered. Smart girl, he thought when Amy immediately took a step back out of his arms. "We have mutual friends," Draco said with a grin. "I'm working on a project, and there's a problem. A problem only you can solve."

Amy took another step back. Her eyes hardened and he felt her call up some magic. She was on the defensive, and a strong, dark witch like Amy wasn't a good thing to face when you didn't want to be noticed. "I don't think any mutual friends we have are interested in my good health."

Draco grinned. "I don't think Rack was interested in anyone's health but his."

Amy immediately relaxed and let the magic flow out of her. Her eyes lit up and Draco knew he had her in his grasp again. "You knew Rack?" she asked, her voice betraying her instant intrigue. "He trusted you?"

Wrapping an arm around Amy's waist again, Draco pulled her close. She gasped and took in a deep breath when her hand connected with his arm. He let her dig her nails into the dark mark as she touched his power.

"I did know him," he replied, and then smirked. "And he did trust me."

Draco leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Which is why I'm one of the reasons he's dead. No where to run when the mighty dark witch came to suck out his power, kind of like the way I'm going to suck out your power. "

Amy's eyes shot open before everything went black.

……………………

When Amy awoke, she was in an unfamiliar room on an unfamiliar bed. She knew there was another presence in the room with her, but when she tried to move, she realized her hands and feet were restrained. Looking up, her breath caught in her throat when she saw the figure standing at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed, and a blank look on his face.

"So kind of you to join us in the land of the living. Surely the backlash of my power didn't overload you that much," Draco said with a condescending grin as he knelt down on the bed. "You couldn't handle it? How cute."

"What do you want?" she asked harshly.

Draco stood with a bored look. "Don't bother threatening. There's a dampener on the room. I'd be surprised if you could raise a quill." He walked up to the head of the bed. "Do you know who I am?"

"Death Eater," she hissed lowly. "And the one that ran with Rack. He talked about you, you know. The traitor Malfoy." Draco snickered and rolled up both his sleeves, reveling in the incredulous stare at both his arms, and consequently, marks. "Impossible," she whispered.

"Actually it's not. It's called spying. Pretending to be someone, but being another person. Just like you." He leaned down and glared at her, his steel eyes boring into hers. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

Amy lurched back as far as her bindings would let her. "Get away from me!" she gasped, making Draco roll his eyes.

"Remember how I mentioned a project? I'll give you three guesses to what it is, and the first two don't count. I call it 'Project Willow'," he said, not pausing to let her guess. Draco started to walk around the room casually, not looking at the surroundings or at Amy. He was just talking. "She was brought back from the brink, but her aura has shifted. It's grown too much, and her magic was frayed almost beyond saving. I used to think that Rack had no idea what he was doing to her, transferring magic like that. It nearly killed her, and it's still causing her pain."

"Is she crying?" Amy asked with an innocent expression on her face, one that still gave away her true intentions—to find out if Willow was in agony. "Does it hurt to know what she did? Every time she uses her magic, she can feel the evil, still, can't she? Isn't it delicious?"

Draco had made his way slowly back to the head of the bed and smirked down at Amy. "Didn't you listen? I said her magic was frayed almost beyond saving. I'm a Sealer."

Amy shook her head and shifted again on the bed. Her fists were clenched so tight they were white. "You lie. Sealers don't exist anymore."

"I'm standing right here, aren't I?" Draco said with a laugh. "And guess what? Since Willow disposed of Rack, you're the only one who can help me help her."

He saw the realization in her eyes. "No," she said softly in horror.

"You're going to remove that block and break the binding tunnel on her magic," Draco said harshly, noticing her quickened breath.

"No! I didn't do it! I didn't put it there!" she shrieked, struggling in earnest against her chains.

"But you were there when they were put in place. So guess what?" Draco asked harshly as leaned down closely to her face. Amy's eyes widened and she tried to shrink into the mattress. "We're going to play a little game. It's called 'See if the evil witch can finish channeling a Sealer's power before she dies'. Want to play? How about a bit of a preview?"

Then all Amy knew was pain.

……………..

Hours later, they were standing by a shady alley crawling with people shrouded in dark and dirty clothing, shooting them equally dark and dirty looks. No one came close, and Amy didn't know if it was because she looked slightly hysterical from the long question and torture session she'd gone through earlier or because the man whose iron grip was digging into her arm had such a severe expression on his face.

It would only take a little noise, a little breath, to give away her predicament. She could get a few words out and someone would help her. They would know he had done unspeakable things to her, made her scream in pain until she thought her throat would bleed, all without lifting a finger towards her.

Those thoughts only worked when she was imagining a better scenario. She was delusional with pain already, and as if he knew her thoughts, the hand around her arm tightened so much she winced uncontrollably.

In the club, his touch had soothed her and ignited a fire in her at the same time. His darkness called out like a beacon and she had been helpless. His looks didn't help either, because it was hard to find a decent dark magic dealer who wasn't disfigured in some way. When the magic turned on a user, one of the first things to go was the physical appearance. Dark magic was known for completely disfiguring the users. Amy had no idea how he had escaped.

This man who held her captive was an enigma. Death Eater, light spy, Sealer, and she could feel the cold swimming under his skin. She had never felt that before, but had heard the tales from a German man, a regular of Rack's.

Everyone knew what Dementors were. They were the boogeymen of the magical world. Be too bad and they'd suck out your soul. The German had talked about a new dark curse—one to turn a human into a Dementor. Rumors circulated that this curse was the source of Dementors in the first place, but no one dared to try it out. Something everyone also knew was how fickle Dementors were. If there was no leader, they would Kiss anyone in their path. They would suck out the happiness of anyone near them. Their soul would be lost forever, and their body's warmth would never return.

The German had described Dementors in detail, but one thing stuck out to her. They were so cold.

Just like Draco Malfoy's hand on her arm. It was summer in Southern California and the heat was radiating off the pavement, despite the early hour. His hand should not have been like ice.

Amy couldn't help shivering. The action caused Draco to look at her with hate-filled eyes, before quickly turning back to the empty street.

"You're cold. Your anger should be full of heat, and yet I could almost swear I can see your breath when you breathe," she said, half in awe and half in contempt.

"You know very well dark wizards' temperature fluctuate according to our moods."

Amy huffed in irritation and tried to move her arm, but she couldn't budge. "You're like ice. I swear my skin is going to turn blue any second!" Encouraged when there was a pause and he didn't reply to her, she continued. "No one will come near us, but everyone can feel the heat from your dark magic, and yet there is a freeze under your skin. If you were anyone else, they'd be crawling over me to get to you. I don't understand."

She glared at him, and leaned her back against the wall they were near. His grasp didn't loosen at all. They had been standing for a long time, Amy didn't know what they were waiting for, but her legs were tired.

It was still too quiet, and she was still too cold.

"Why is it so important to fix her, anyway? She's tasted it. She'll always want it. Do you really have that much confidence in her self-control? Do you think she won't sink her wicked claws into you once she feels your power?" Amy scoffed. "Do you have that much confidence in your self-control?"

Again, Draco looked at her with loathing before looking away.

"Do you really have that much doubt in it? I haven't killed you yet, have I?"

She didn't know what frightened her more—the knowledge that he was perfectly serious or that he sounded disappointed that he hadn't killed her yet.

Before she could think more on it, Draco lurched away from the wall and pulled her across the street. She was surprised when they reached a payphone, and realized the reason they had been waiting—someone had been using it before them.

"You have change in your pocket and you know the number of the Summers' residence in Sunnydale. Call it. Now."

Amy hated this. She hated being controlled like this, without even the barest flicker of dark magic to encourage her. Risking a glance, she saw Draco's face was closed off, and he was clearly impatient. Grabbing the quarters from her pocket, she put them in the slot and slowly pushed the metal buttons on the payphone, calling Sunnydale.

Before she could put the received to her ear, Draco ripped it from her grasp with his right hand. His left, which was still clenched around her upper arm slid down to her wrist and he squeezed until she was sure the bones would break, but she understood the warning. Silence. No talking, no noises.

She couldn't hear the conversation from the other end, but she knew whoever had picked up had to be confused.

"—no Willow, I won't. Get everyone out of the house except yourself and Buffy. Yes, even Giles." Draco paused, clearly angered at the response he was getting. "Willow, I don't care! I will be there in a few hours, and I want no one besides you and Summers there, understood?"

When he slammed the received down on the hook, Amy winced, but Draco quickly started to pull her down the sidewalk.

"And just how are we getting to Sunnydale? I doubt you have the correct currency," Amy said with a small sneer. Draco didn't take the bait.

"We're Apparating. Same way I got here."

Her expression changed to confusion. "If we're teleporting, then why are we waiting hours?"

The breath was forced from her lungs when she was slammed against the wooden siding of a small shop that had seen better days in downtown Los Angeles. Amy felt splinters cutting into her skin through her thin shirt. She gritted her teeth in pain.

"Because I'm not nearly done with you. Not yet."

Amy made up her mind. She was definitely more terrified at the thought that someday soon, Draco Malfoy would kill her. And she was also sure he would make it hurt.