Chapter 38

It was unavoidable. The lecturing, the yelling, the finger wagging, and there would've been a grounding, too, if there were any extracurricular activities to actually be grounded from.

"You should've told me," her mother said, after her tirade and with winding down calm.

"I know, but I just…" Buffy took a deep breath and tried to stay focused on the scorning at hand. Her head hurt, and she was tired. Sleep hadn't come to her the night before. Her restless mind kept weaving ideas and memories into her nonstop thoughts, but she knew avoiding her mother the next morning would not the brightest thing to do, so she truckered on and hoped she could go back to bed soon. Whether that meant sleep was still a tossup. "It's not like I've been using it all this time, yesterday was the first time since…since then."

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you could've gotten into if the Ministry had found out about this? Apparating underage and without a license?"

"I know."

"You could've gotten kicked out of school."

"I know."

"You could've gotten hurt."

"I know."

"You could've –"

"Mom," she stopped her impatiently, though her voice sounded more tired than impatient. "I know that what I did was wrong, and illegal, and dangerous, but I…I needed to go. And I wasn't sure how long I was going to be, so it was just better if I went by myself. And I know you're angry at me for going but –"

"You think I'm angry because of that?"

Buffy paused, her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Aren't you?"

"Buffy." Joyce shook her head as bits of her anger faded away and she lowered herself onto the bed next to her daughter. "I know why you had to go. Your friends were in danger, you needed to be there, and I'm not mad. Exactly."

"The yelling sure could've fooled me."

"I'm worried," she admitted abruptly. "If the Ministry were to find out about this, then they would want to know how long you've been able to Apparate, and that means…"

Buffy felt a sudden chill run up her spine. "And that means that they'll find out about everything else."

Joyce nodded grimly in agreement. "There's a reason why only a few of us know about what happened, and now, knowing that Voldemort has returned, more than anything, it needs to stay that way."

She didn't like this. Secrets, secrets, and nothing but secrets. She was like a piggy bank. Please deposit one secret and watch Buffy explode. Fun! Nevertheless, she got it. If the Ministry where to find out…well, let's just say, her bright and shiny days would be over – although those days seemed always to be far and few in between.

Voldemort just had to come back, didn't he? He couldn't stay in the little hell he had created for himself. Oh, no, because that would actually be a good thing for Buffy, and we can't have that can we? But what did she really expect. He had even told her he would return, and now here he was. Who knows what other promises he planned to keep. The dreadful things she remembered him whispering.

"I don't need to tell you that things are tough right now, you know they are," her mother continued. "We've already got so much to deal with, and if Fudge were to find out about this…he may be in denial about Voldemort's return, but he still fears him. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't," she said firmly.

"You can't be too confident about this, Buffy. The Ministry goes to great lengths to prevent exposure."

"I know that, mom." Buffy knew she needed to ease her mother's worry, and it's not like it was that big of secret (there's that word again), and it's not like Giles said she couldn't say anything. It was vital here, sort of. And who was her mother going to tell? The people who already knew practically everything about her? So, see, no harm to be had. It would all be completely justified. "Actually, I think there's something you should know. Remember when I went to visit Giles? Back before school started?"

"Yes."

"Well, remember when I told you about him knowing I was a witch?"

"Stupid Watcher's Council," Joyce mumbled, causing Buffy to smile.

"Well, after that, we started talking about it a little, and he told me something he wasn't supposed to know, which is a big benefit here," Buffy began to explain. "Turns out that Wizarding magic can't be detected in Sunnydale by the Ministry. Well, specifically detected anyway. He said that with all the different kinds of magic, supernatural whatnot, and Hellmouth-iness going on, it makes it hard to separate one piece of magic from another. They all kinda blend into this one big mojo vibe. So, it makes it impossible to pinpoint one single delinquent magic user from the apparent many."

Wizarding magic can't be detected on the Hellmouth. That would make sense. Why hadn't it occurred to her before? With so much supernatural energy surging through that town, it should've been obvious. Trying to detect specific Wizarding magic would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. And if Joyce had known that was the case, they wouldn't have had to force themselves to do the things the Muggle way in Sunnydale so as not to be detected, as much fun as that was.

"Is he sure?" she asked, understanding the reasoning but naturally being cautious.

"Positive. Apparently, he 'accidentally' came across some very noteworthy papers Fudge had sent to Travers."

"And nobody else knows?"

"Nope."

"That's strange," she muttered absently.

"Not really," Buffy snorted, so very ladylike. "Think about it, mom. The Ministry has a blind spot – do you really think Iron-Clad himself would want the whole world to know about it? Sunnydale is off the radar and off their limits. Whatever happens there stays there. They couldn't care less."

"Guess I shouldn't have expected anything else from Fudge," Joyce said as she shook her head.

"Exactly."

Sunnydale. Angel. So much for a distraction. Her chest began to hurt again, and Buffy felt the tiny lump in her throat. He died seven months ago, returned two months ago, and just yesterday she found out he was alive. She hadn't seen him in nine months, and with one glance it brought every ounce of love back. One she had thought was over, but only to have it return to her and be even more painful than before. Because Angel was alive and she couldn't have him. No matter how badly she wished things would change. Buffy desperately wished she would find her necklace soon, the one he had given her when they first met, the one that made her feel safe when he wasn't around. She couldn't have him, but the necklace, the ring, were hers, and something, no matter how small, was better than nothing.

"Buffy? Are you all right?"

She was silently looking toward the floor. Her shoulders slumped heavily. And when Buffy looked up, Joyce finally noticed the dark circles under her eyes, underneath faint red rims.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she uttered thickly. "I didn't sleep well last night or at all, actually. I'm just kinda tired."

"Maybe you should get some rest," she suggested worriedly.

"Yeah, okay," she nodded absently, sounding as though she wasn't even there. "That sounds good."

Without another word, Buffy rose from the bed and walked to the door on autopilot. All she wanted to do was sleep and make the world disappear. To let herself forget. She just hoped that once her head hit the pillow her brain would get the message.

Joyce watched after her, knowing it was more than just being tired that was causing Buffy's mood. It's the strangest thing, you bring up a child and you get instincts. Sighing deeply, she moved the pillow Buffy had held in her arms, and left at the edge of the bed, and placed it back with the others. It was Angel. She was sure of it. Buffy looked like an unhappy girl in love, a look she knew of all too well. One she used to see constantly in the mirror.

"Everything all right?" Sirius asked, arriving at the doorway.

But it was a look that was now far behind her.

"Everything's fine," she said with a smile.

"You weren't too hard on her, were you?" he asked, plopping down onto the bed.

"What kind of mother do you think I am?"

"Well, the words cruel and ruthless come to mind."

"See, and that's why I'm leaving."

She rose up just as Sirius grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to him; wrapping a comforting arm around her as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I saw her on my way here," he said softly. "She doesn't look all right."

"That's because she's not," she sighed in concern. "But you know Buffy. She just needs a little time. She knows I'll be here when she needs me."

"Is it bad?"

Joyce sighed again, worry filling her breath. "It's Angel."

And that explained it all.

No one saw Buffy for the rest of the day. She slept. And slept. And slept some more. Joyce peeked in. Sirius peeked in. Remus peeked in. Molly peeked in. Fred, George, and Ginny peeked in. And before the day was over, Harry had sneaked in his turn, but he only found what everyone else had: a quiet lump underneath the covers inside a dark room. Which did not bode well for their concern. She couldn't be that tired, could she? Whatever the case was, they didn't want to disturb her to find out. So, they let her sleep for as long as she needed to…until the eventual paranoia set it and they would have to check she was breathing now and again just to be sure she was still alive.

The next day the sun dared to slip in between the curtain and the wall, and much to Buffy's delight, on her still sleeping face. Which didn't stay sleeping for long. Slowly and begrudgingly, Buffy pried her eyes open. Stupid sun. Groaning in annoyance, she shifted underneath the covers and began to stretch her limp muscles. What time was it? Reaching toward her nightstand, she picked up the small, ticking Scooby clock: 11:36. She had been sleeping on and off for…almost twenty-four hours?! Wow, okay, that's…a lot of hours. Rubbing her face, she moved off the bed she was sure was imprinted with her outline by now and headed toward the lavatory. A visit that was long overdue.

After being fully relieved of all bathroom necessities, she was just making her way to her wardrobe when…

"So, you are still alive."

Surprised as she was, Buffy immediately smiled when she turned to look at the person standing at her now opened doorway.

"Well, it was touch and go there for a minute."

"So, it would seem," said Ginny, closing the door behind her and casually walking over to take a seat on Buffy's bed. "You know you had us worried there."

"For sleeping?"

"For sleeping a whole day."

"Hmm," she shrugged. "Guess it must've been something I ate."

"You mean air?"

"I heard it can make a person drowsy."

"I thought it was gassy."

Jokes. Good, they caused comfort. Somewhat. Or very little in this case. Buffy nervously moved back to her bed and took a seat next to her 'still-up-in-the-air' friend. Ginny was here and talking to her, so that was a good sign. They were getting to the point of mending whatever needed to be mended.

"So…are we going to do the whole awkward, dancing around the subject thing first, or should we bypass that and go straight for heart of the matter?" Buffy asked.

"Well, for our sanity's sake," she began. "I say, heart of matter."

"Okay," she nodded. "Good." Now where to start? Guess the safest bet would be… "Have you talked to Fred and George?"

"Yes, and they told me everything," she replied, and Buffy panicked. "About you and Draco being friends, and that you were only joking when Ron overheard you saying you were spying for Umbridge." Oh, that. Phew. Her lungs could start working again. "And although it took me a while to understand why you would still be friends with Malfoy," Ginny teased, "I get it. You two grew up together. It's only natural that you'd remain close."

"So…does knowing all this new and very, very true information, convince you that I'm not Umbridge's lackey?"

"Somewhat," she replied, sounding reluctant, and Buffy wanted to scream. How much more proof did this girl need? "I should've never doubted you in the first place." Okay, see now that was better. "I mean, you haven't given me a reason to. You've only been nice to me since we became friends. And Ron doesn't exactly have the most unbiased opinion when it comes to you. I shouldn't have made up my mind without talking to you first. So, I'm sorry."

"Thanks," she smiled. "And I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know," she said, looking thoughtful for a second. "It felt like an 'I'm sorry' moment."

Ginny shook her head and let out a small laugh. "Well, seeing as you don't need to be, I don't accept your 'I'm sorry'."

"Well, thank you," she curtly nodded. "I accept your non-acceptance of my apology."

Girls didn't get any stranger than Buffy. At least Ginny hoped not. One confusing friend was all she could handle – or two, counting Luna.

They grew quiet in being unsure of what to say next. Apologies were said and accepted, or unaccepted on one account, and life could move on. They were no longer on un-speaking terms, which led Ginny to struggle with her curiosity.

The question had been plaguing her for the past two days. Yes, no, maybe so. It really was just a simple yes or no question, but a question that would only lead to more if Ginny were to receive the answer she knew she was going to get.

"Buffy, if I ask you something, will you be honest with me?"

Danger! Danger! Will Robinson. At the sound of her hesitant voice, Buffy could almost hear the warning bell. This was so not going to lead somewhere good, was it?

"Depends."

Ginny struggled with it. On the one hand it was none of her business, on the other, when was she ever going to get an opportunity like this? And Buffy could always just tell her no if she didn't want to answer.

"You knew Angelus didn't you," she said.

Yep, not good. "That didn't sound like a question."

"I know."

Angelus, not Angel. Buffy felt a groan coming on for some reason, and with just one, more second…Luna. Drusilla. Stupid books with all the knowledge of past history. Hello? Wasn't that where it was supposed to stay? In the past.

"Why do you think I know Angelus?" Her voice was serious, low, and guarded.

"The other day," Ginny replied, sudden guilt coming to her at the notice of Buffy's tone. "After you got your letter, when Sirius, Remus, and your mum were following you out of the kitchen, they mentioned Angelus's name."

It's always the adults. Can't keep a secret. Buffy's hands fisted for a second, and she squeezed her eyes. She was backed into another corner here. What was it with these Weasley kids? In her opinion, they were much too observant for their own good. If they weren't so pro the side of good, the world would be in serious trouble.

"I knew him," she admitted flatly. There was really no point in hiding it out.

"How?"

"Ginny," she said rapidly. "You wanted to know if I knew him, and now you know. So, let's just leave it at that, please?"

She had hit a chord, and it never occurred to Ginny that it was even an option. But now she could see Buffy's bared pain and it kicked that comfort instinct in her again.

"He hurt you, didn't he?" she asked tentatively after a small moment of silence.

In more ways than one. God, she didn't want to talk about this, not after the other night. She had Angel dreams and felt the longing the second her eyes opened, and now she had to relive Angelus at the very mention of his name. It was her own little punishment, tailored made for what made her the most vulnerable. She was sure it was the debt she had to pay, for something people kept trying to convince her wasn't her fault. Though her guilt said different.

"I don't want to talk about."

Ginny noticed how Buffy had shrunk into herself. She should've kept her big mouth shut. Why did she even bring it up?

"Buffy, I'm –" As she spoke, Ginny stretched her arms down her legs, which caused her wand to slip out of her sleeve, and clatter to the floor. Great. Perfect.

Rolling her eyes, she gave a small huff of irritation. It works just as good as a store-bought holster, you'd think she would've learned never to listen to Fred and George by now. Lowering herself to the floor, she flattened herself against the boards, and went looking for her wand. She was about to move some of Buffy's clothes out of the way, when she came across one very big surprise. A very disturbing, question filled, eye widening surprise.

"Uh, Buffy?"

"Yeah."

Buffy had been told time and time again to pick up her clothes, but how was she supposed to know that someone was going to be looking under her bed. It had been a late and fight-worn night when she went out with Tonks, and she was tired, she didn't feel like tidying up, so Buffy just threw off her clothes and stuffed them out of sight. She would worry about them later.

Well, it was later.

"Why do your clothes have blood on them?"


a/n: Despite my great, great efforts, I'm aware spelling and grammar mistakes still slip through despite trying my best to fix them during editing, but I can only re-read these words so many times before they all start blending together, so I apologize for that.