Past

Directly after DOM battle

The walls of Number 12, Grimmauld Place felt suffocating. The shadows seemed deeper, the creaks in the floorboards louder, as if the old house itself grieved with Harry. He sat in the kitchen, hunched over a steaming cup of tea he hadn't touched. His knuckles were white as they gripped the edges of the table, and his scar throbbed faintly—a ghost of the agony he'd felt in the Ministry.

Across from him, Hermione and Ron exchanged uneasy glances. They had barely spoken since returning from the Department of Mysteries, and the silence was heavy with unspoken words.

"Harry," Hermione ventured, her voice soft but steady, "you've been sitting there for hours. You need to rest."

Harry's eyes snapped up to meet hers. They were bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles, and burning with something that wasn't just grief—it was anger.

"I don't need rest," he said coldly. "I need answers."

Ron winced but didn't argue. He'd seen Harry like this before—determined, dangerous—but this was different. This wasn't just about Voldemort. This was about the people who were supposed to guide them, protect them, and had failed.

The door creaked open, and Dumbledore entered, his face a mask of sorrow. He looked older than ever, his usual air of calm wisdom diminished.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, his voice heavy, "I—"

"No," Harry interrupted, standing abruptly. His chair scraped against the floor with a sharp screech. "You don't get to 'Harry' me, not after this."

"Harry, please," Dumbledore said gently, "I understand your grief, but—"

"You don't understand anything!" Harry shouted, his voice echoing in the small kitchen. Hermione flinched, and even Ron looked startled by the outburst.

Harry's fists clenched at his sides as he stepped closer to Dumbledore, his scar burning. "Sirius is dead because of you. You knew about the prophecy, you knew Voldemort was after it, and you still kept me in the dark. You let me walk into that trap!"

Dumbledore's expression faltered. "I wanted to protect you—"

"Protect me?" Harry laughed bitterly. "You wanted to control me. You think you're so clever, playing your games and keeping your secrets. But all you've done is get people killed."

Hermione opened her mouth to intervene, but Ron shook his head, silently urging her to stay back.

"I trusted you," Harry continued, his voice quieter now but no less venomous. "I thought you had all the answers. But you don't, do you? You just use people—use them until they're broken or dead."

Dumbledore's shoulders sagged under the weight of Harry's words. "I have made mistakes," he admitted, his voice low. "I have kept things from you, and for that, I am sorry. But the fight against Voldemort requires—"

Harry cut him off again. "I don't care about your excuses. I'm done waiting for you to pull the strings. From now on, I'm doing this my way."

Dumbledore's eyes widened, the twinkle gone. "Harry, you cannot do this alone. The Order—"

"The Order is useless!" Harry snapped. "You've been fighting this war for decades, and where has it gotten us? Voldemort is still out there, and now Sirius is gone too."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Harry turned to Hermione and Ron, his gaze fierce. "I'm not waiting around for more people to die. If you're with me, fine. If not, I'll go alone."

Hermione hesitated, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the table. "Harry… we're with you. Always."

Ron nodded, though his face was pale. "Yeah, mate. We're not letting you do this on your own."

Harry's expression softened briefly, a flicker of gratitude passing over his face. Then he turned back to Dumbledore.

"You can keep your secrets," Harry said coldly. "But don't get in my way."

Dumbledore looked as though he wanted to argue, but he stayed silent, his piercing blue eyes filled with regret.

Harry strode past him without another word, heading toward the stairs. Hermione and Ron followed, leaving Dumbledore alone in the dim kitchen.

In the room he shared with Ron, Harry stared out the window, the moonlight casting shadows across his face. His mind raced, replaying the events of the Department of Mysteries, the moment Sirius fell through the veil.

"I'm not letting this happen again," he muttered to himself. "No more waiting. No more following orders."

His reflection in the window flickered for a moment, his shadow shifting unnaturally. Harry didn't notice.

Chapter 2 - Present day

The tension in the ruined church was thick enough to choke on, the air humming with the lingering energy of the summoning ritual. Harry Potter stood in the center of the collapsed circle, his emerald-green eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, a stark contrast to the crumbling walls around him.

The lead demon, still reeling from the unexpected arrival, narrowed its glowing yellow eyes at him. "You're the devil? You… No, you can't be. What are you and how did you interfere with the summoning"

Harry's gaze swept over the demons and the terrified girl bound on the altar. He ignored the demon's question, his voice calm but cutting. "You have about ten seconds to let her go before this gets messy."

The lead demon snarled, emboldened by the presence of his brethren. "Do you think you can threaten us, human? You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Harry tilted his head, his lips twitching in a faint smirk. "Try me."

With a guttural roar, the lead demon lunged at him, its claws outstretched. Harry sidestepped effortlessly, his wand snapping upward. "Bombarda!" The spell hit the demon squarely in the chest, sending it flying backward into a broken pillar.

"It's him… It's really Satan!" One of the demons exclaimed in panic as Harry stepped through their summoning circle.

The remaining demons hesitated for a moment before charging as one. Harry's wand moved in a blur, a shield charm shimmering to life in front of him. The demons' claws scraped harmlessly against the barrier, sparks flying with each impact. Harry pushed forward, his shield expanding and throwing the demons off balance.

One demon broke through, leaping toward the altar where Dawn was bound. Harry reacted instantly, his wand slicing through the air. "Expulso!" The force of the explosion sent the demon hurtling into the far wall, where it crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Harry then sent a unknotting spell at Dawn's ropes allowing her to move. As soon as her hands were free, Dawn stumbled off the altar, her legs shaking beneath her. She backed away, keeping a wary eye on both the demons and the man who had just appeared out of thin air.

"You okay?" Harry asked, his tone softer now, his glowing green eyes studying her with quiet concern.

"I… I think so," Dawn said cautiously, her voice trembling. She swallowed hard, then blurted out, "Are you—are you really the devil?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking more bemused than anything. "The devil?" He gave a short laugh. "No. I'm just a guy trying to figure out why I got pulled out of… where I was."

"Hell?" Dawn asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry snorted, his thoughts flashing briefly to the glittering ballroom, the constant stares, and the awkward dance with Ginny while her husband looked ready to hex him. And, of course, there was Malfoy's granddaughter, Valerie, all sharp smiles and haunting beauty.

"Yeah," he said after a beat, nodding with a faint smirk. "That about sums it up."

Dawn blinked at him, caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. Before she could say more, the lead demon dragged itself to its feet, roaring in defiance.

"You'll regret this, Morningstar!" it bellowed. "You don't belong here!"

Harry's expression hardened, the faint glow in his eyes intensifying. "Whose fault is that?"

The demon lunged again, but this time Harry didn't hold back. A dark tendril of shadow erupted from the ground, wrapping around the demon's limbs and slamming it back down. The other demons froze, their courage wavering as Harry turned his attention to them.

"Leave," Harry said, his voice low and commanding, laced with an unearthly power that made the walls tremble. "Or you'll wish you had."

Two demons broke ranks and fled into the night, their wings slicing through the air. The others hesitated, casting uneasy glances at their fallen leader before following suit. Within moments, the church was empty save for Harry and Dawn.

The oppressive energy of the summoning circle dissipated, leaving behind an eerie stillness. Harry turned to Dawn, who stood rooted to the spot, her wide eyes fixed on him.

"Let's get out of here," he said, extending a hand.

Dawn hesitated only for a moment before taking it. His grip was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the cold terror she'd just endured.

~scene change~

The walk to Dawn's home through the quiet streets was tense, their footsteps echoing softly on the cracked pavement. They'd passed the welcome to Sunnydale sign a while back and Dawn kept glancing sideways at Harry, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Despite everything that had just happened, she couldn't shake the lingering unease. Nothing good ever happened on the Hellmouth especially without a price, and Harry—The devil or not—was no exception.

"You're awfully quiet," Harry said, breaking the silence. His tone was casual, as though they'd just gone out for an evening stroll instead of escaping a demonic sacrifice.

Dawn frowned, kicking a loose pebble on the sidewalk. "What am I supposed to say? 'Thanks for saving me, to someone that is quite possibly The-devil himself!?'"

Harry raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "That'd be a start, love."

Dawn stopped abruptly, planting her feet. "Look, I don't know who—or what—you are, but nothing good ever happens here without a catch. So if you've got some grand plan to eat my soul or take over the world, now's the time to spill it."

Harry stopped too, turning to face her. Instead of irritation or defensiveness, his expression softened. "I get it," he said simply. "You've had a rough day—maybe a rough life—but I'm not here to hurt you." He paused, considering her for a moment. "Would a magical oath help?"

Dawn blinked, caught off guard. "A what?"

"A binding promise," Harry explained. "If I break it, the magic would punish me."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do I know if it'd even be real?"

Harry shrugged, unbothered. "Good question. The short answer is that you don't. But it's the best I can offer."

After a long hesitation, Dawn bit her lip, her instincts warring with her gut feeling about him. Finally, she sighed. "Fine. Do it."

Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a thin stick—a wand. Dawn instinctively took a step back, eyeing it warily.

"It's just a wand," he said with a chuckle. "Not really a weapon."

But she saw him welding this wand earlier to take down a pack of demons that even Buffy would have issues with.

Watching him wearily as he began muttering a string of words under his breath, Harry conjured a faint golden thread of light between them. His voice was calm but firm as he spoke. "I swear not to harm you or anyone you care about. I also swear not to reveal anything about you or this place until I understand what's going on."

The golden thread pulsed, then disappeared with a faint hum. The air seemed to grow warmer, and Dawn's breath hitched as she stared at the spot where the light had vanished.

"Done already?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"That's it," Harry confirmed, slipping his wand back into his robes.

Dawn narrowed her eyes at him. "That's not very reassuring. You wave a stick, say some mumbo-jumbo, and now I'm supposed to feel safe?"

Harry smirked faintly. "Trust me, it's more than mumbo-jumbo. Now, it's your turn."

"What?" Dawn asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"You promise not to tell anyone about me—at least for now," Harry said, crossing his arms. "Fair's fair, yeah?"

Dawn frowned, crossing her arms to match his stance. "I don't even have a wand. How am I supposed to do… whatever it is you just did?"

"Just say the words," Harry replied, his tone light. "That will be enough."

She hesitated for a moment but finally muttered, "Fine. I promise not to tell anyone about you."

"There," Harry said, brushing off his hands. "Now we're even."

Dawn frowned, looking suspicious. "Wait. Is that it? Where are my theatrics? When you made the promise, there was magical fanfare. What about mine?"

To Harry's ears, it sounded suspiciously like she was pouting. He chuckled softly. "My promise was a binding magical oath. Your promise… well, let's just say you're not exactly a trained witch."

Dawn huffed, folding her arms tighter. "So I don't even get the light show? That's lame."

Harry raised an eyebrow, amused. "Would you like me to throw in some fireworks next time?"

"Maybe!" Dawn shot back, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "It'd make it seem a lot more legit."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Noted. Next time, I'll bring sparklers."

Dawn tried to maintain her annoyed expression but gave up, letting out a snort of laughter. For a moment, the tension between them eased, and she felt a little less like she'd just walked into a horror movie.

"Alright," she said, trying to sound serious again. "But if this oath thing turns out to be fake, I'm getting a priest and an exorcist. Just so you know."

"Duly noted," Harry said, smirking. "Anything else you'd like to add to your terms, Your Majesty?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop herself from grinning. "Let's just get to my house before something else tries to eat me."

Harry gestured dramatically toward the road ahead. "After you, oh queen of skepticism."

Dawn shook her head, muttering something under her breath as she started walking. But her steps were lighter now, and for the first time all night, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could trust this mysterious stranger.

They continued walking, the tension between them eased slightly.m with the banter. Dawn watched him out of the corner of her eye, her curiosity growing despite herself.

"Quiet again love?," Harry said after a few moments, his voice breaking the stillness. He glanced down at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Planning your escape route in case I turn out to be as bad as they think I am?"

Dawn rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "No. Well… maybe."

Harry chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. "I don't blame you."

They walked in silence for a moment longer before Dawn asked, "So… what's your deal? You just show up out of nowhere, freak out a bunch of demons, and then act like it's no big deal."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing. Most people don't end up in the middle of demon rituals. Care to share?"

Dawn flushed and looked away. "That's… complicated."

"Life usually is," Harry said, his tone light but his gaze thoughtful.

Dawn hesitated, chewing her lip. She wasn't used to opening up, especially to someone she'd just met—someone who might actually be the devil. But there was something about Harry's calm presence, the way he didn't push, that made her want to talk.

"My mom's sick," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "She's in the hospital. And… and sometimes she doesn't even recognize me."

Harry slowed his pace, turning his full attention to her. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "That must be hard."

Dawn nodded, her arms tightening around herself. "It is. And then there's Buffy—my sister. She's amazing, but… she's the Slayer. She's always got something going on, always has someone to save. It's like… I don't fit. Like I don't matter."

Harry's gaze softened, he didn't know what exactly was 'The Slayer' though he could hear the capitals in those words.

Keeping his expression unreadable he finally spoke, "I doubt that's true," he said quietly. "People don't always show it, but that doesn't mean you don't matter to them."

Dawn shrugged, not entirely convinced. "I guess. But it's not just that." She hesitated again, the weight of her secret pressing down on her. "Sometimes I feel like… like I don't even know who I am. Like I'm not… real."

Harry stopped walking, turning to face her. His green eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she felt like he could see straight through her. "What makes you say that?"

"It's nothing," Dawn said quickly, looking away. "Just… stupid stuff."

Harry didn't push, but his gaze lingered on her, thoughtful and searching. "It's not stupid if it's bothering you."

Dawn glanced up at him, her chest tight. "You don't get it."

"You'd be surprised what I get," Harry said, his voice low. "Let's just say I've had my own… struggles figuring out where I belong."

Dawn tilted her head, curious despite herself. "Like what?"

Harry hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly. "Let's just say I woke up one day, and the world wasn't what I thought it was. Everything I knew was gone, and I had to figure out how to make sense of it. Now this happened..." He trailed off sounding lost.

"That's pretty vague," Dawn said, frowning.

Harry gave her a faint smile. "It's a vague kind of story."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the tension between them easing. For the first time in a long while, Dawn felt like someone understood—like she wasn't completely alone in her confusion and doubts.

When they reached the Summers' house, Dawn hesitated on the porch. "So… what now? Are you just gonna disappear into the night or something?"

Harry leaned against the railing, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe. But I'll be back."

"You promise?" Dawn asked, her voice softer now.

Harry's lips quirked into a small smile. "I'm not exactly in a position to promise much. But yeah—I'll be back."

Dawn relaxed slightly, nodding. "Okay."

As Harry turned to leave, Dawn called after him, her voice hesitant. "Hey, uh… thanks. For earlier. You know, saving me and all that."

Harry looked over his shoulder, his green eyes catching the moonlight. "Anytime, Dawn."

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Dawn standing on the porch with a faint, inexplicable sense of hope.

~scene change~

Several hours earlier

The sound of pages flipping echoed in the Summers' living room, accompanied by the soft scratch of Willow's pen against a notebook. She sat cross-legged on the couch, her brow furrowed as she scribbled notes from an ancient-looking tome spread across her lap.

On the floor nearby, Tara sat with another book, her hair falling into her face as she traced the faded runes on the page with a fingertip. She glanced up at Willow, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

"Find anything?" she asked gently.

Willow shook her head, her frustration showing in the tight set of her jaw. "No. Just more vague references to the Key's energy signature and how 'dangerous' it is. Nothing about how to protect Dawn or keep her hidden from Glory."

Tara frowned, her gaze drifting toward the stairs. "It's not enough to just hide her. We need to find something more permanent… something that—"

She stopped mid-sentence, her brow furrowing.

"What is it?" Willow asked, looking up from her notes.

Tara tilted her head, listening. The house was quiet—too quiet. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Exactly," Tara said, her voice tinged with worry. "It's… too quiet. Shouldn't Dawn be upstairs?"

Willow froze, her eyes widening. She set her notebook aside and stood. "She was in her room when Buffy left for patrol… right?"

Tara nodded, standing as well. "I'll check," she said, her worry growing as she headed for the stairs.

Tara knocked softly on Dawn's bedroom door. "Dawn? You okay in there?"

When there was no answer, she pushed the door open, her heart sinking at the sight of the empty room. The bed was unmade, and the window was open, a faint breeze stirring the curtains.

"Willow," Tara called, her voice trembling.

Willow appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening when she saw the open window. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no."

"She's gone," Tara said, clutching the doorframe. "She… she must've snuck out."

Willow's hands flew to her head, panic flooding her voice. "How long ago? How far could she have gotten? What if Glory finds her?"

Tara reached out, her steadying presence grounding Willow even as her own fear grew. "We'll find her. We need to call Buffy."

The living room became a flurry of activity as Tara grabbed the phone and Willow paced, muttering under her breath.

"She can't have gone far, right? I mean, how far can a teenager get on foot? Unless—unless something grabbed her! Oh goddess, what if—"

"Tara?" a sleepy voice called from upstairs.

The pair turned to see a disheveled Xander descending the stairs, rubbing his eyes. "Why all the shouting? Is this a magic emergency, or just a regular Scooby crisis?"

"Dawn's missing," Tara said quickly, dialing Buffy's number.

Xander froze, his sleepy demeanor vanishing in an instant. "Missing? What do you mean missing?"

"She's not in her room, and the window's open," Willow said, wringing her hands. "We don't know when she left, or if she's okay, or—"

"Okay, okay," Xander said, holding up his hands. "Let's not panic. Have you called Buffy yet?"

"Doing that now," Tara said, holding the phone to her ear.

Buffy was halfway through staking a vampire when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She grunted in annoyance, shoving the vampire back long enough to answer.

"Tara? What's—"

"She's gone," Tara said, her voice urgent.

Buffy froze, the stake clutched in her hand. "Who's gone?"

"Dawn," Tara said. "She's not in her room. We think she snuck out."

Buffy's grip on the phone tightened. "When?"

"We don't know," Tara admitted. "It could've been any time after you left. We—Buffy, we don't know where she is."

The vampire lunged at Buffy, and she drove the stake into its chest without even looking. She was already moving toward the nearest exit. "I'm on my way."

By the time Buffy arrived at the house, Giles was already there, his brow furrowed as he listened to Willow's frantic recap of events.

"She didn't leave a note or anything?" Buffy asked, storming into the living room.

"No," Willow said, wringing her hands. "We checked everywhere—her room, the kitchen, the porch—nothing."

"Do we have any idea where she might've gone?" Giles asked, adjusting his glasses.

"The mall, maybe?" Xander offered. "That's where she usually sneaks off to when she wants space."

Buffy's jaw tightened. "We don't have time for guesses. She's out there, unprotected, with Glory and who-knows-what else crawling around this town."

Tara stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm. "We'll find her, Buffy. We just need to think."

The group split up, each taking a different part of Sunnydale to search. Buffy headed toward the park, where Dawn sometimes cut through on her way to the mall. Willow and Tara scoured the streets near the house, while Xander checked the bus station on the off chance Dawn had tried to leave town entirely.

As Buffy moved through the darkened park, her Slayer senses on high alert, she muttered under her breath, "Dawn, where are you?"

Her stomach churned with worry. Dawn was her responsibility—her sister, her blood. If something happened to her…

Buffy shook the thought away, tightening her grip on the stake in her hand. She wouldn't let anything happen to Dawn. Not while she was still breathing.

~Scene change~

Giles sat in the living room of the Summers house, nursing a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. The search party had been fruitless so far, with Buffy, Xander, Willow, and Tara scouring the town for any trace of Dawn. But someone had to stay behind in case she returned home, and Giles, as always, had been the logical choice.

He adjusted his glasses and glanced at the clock. Midnight. He sighed heavily, setting the teacup down on the coffee table. Despite the quiet of the house, his mind was racing. Glory was still out there, and the Hellmouth never stayed dormant for long.

The sound of soft footsteps outside caught his attention. Giles sat upright, his heart racing. He moved quickly to the front window and peered out, his eyes narrowing at the sight of two figures walking toward the house.

One of them was unmistakably Dawn, her hoodie pulled tight around her, but it was the figure beside her that made Giles stiffen. A young man in dark, tattered robes, his posture relaxed and his presence exuding something… otherworldly.

Harry stopped at the edge of the porch, glancing at Dawn with a faint smile. "Well, here you are. Safe and sound."

Dawn shifted nervously, clutching her backpack. "Thanks… for, you know, saving me and stuff."

"No problem," Harry said. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Just… try to stay out of trouble, yeah?"

Dawn rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'll try. No promises, though. It's kind of my thing."

Harry chuckled softly, stepping back into the shadows. "Fair enough. Take care, Dawn."

He turned and walked away, his form fading into the darkness of the street.

Dawn lingered for a moment, watching him go, her cheeks tinged pink. She shook her head quickly, as if to clear her thoughts, and turned toward the door.

Giles stepped away from the window just in time for the front door to open. Dawn slipped inside, looking startled when she saw him standing in the hallway.

"Uh… hi," she said, her voice small.

"Dawn," Giles said, his tone measured but firm. "Would you mind explaining where you've been?"

Dawn hesitated, glancing down at her feet. "I, uh… went for a walk."

"At this hour? Through Sunnydale?" Giles crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "Do you have any idea how worried everyone's been?"

"I didn't mean to—" Dawn began, but Giles cut her off.

"And who, may I ask, was that young man who just walked you home?"

Dawn's face turned a deep shade of red. "I—uh—he's just… someone who helped me, okay?"

"Helped you with what?" Giles pressed, his concern mounting.

Dawn fidgeted, her eyes darting to the staircase as if considering a quick escape. "It's kind of a long story," she muttered.

"Then you'd best start at the beginning," Giles said, gesturing for her to sit on the couch. "The others will be back soon, and they'll want to hear it as well."

By the time Buffy and the others returned, Dawn was perched on the edge of the couch, wringing her hands. Giles had filled them in on her return but insisted they hear the details directly from her.

Buffy stormed into the room, her face a mix of relief and anger. "Dawn! Do you have any idea how—"

"Buffy," Giles said gently, cutting her off. "Let her explain."

Dawn shifted uncomfortably as the group gathered around her, their eyes full of expectation.

"Okay, so… I kind of snuck out," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Kind of?" Xander repeated, crossing his arms.

Dawn shot him a glare. "Fine. I snuck out. I just… needed some space, okay? Everything's been so… I don't know, loud lately."

Buffy softened slightly but didn't say anything.

Dawn took a deep breath, continuing. "I was heading to the mall, but then these demons showed up. They grabbed me and took me to this creepy old church, and they were going to—" She broke off, her voice catching.

Tara reached over and squeezed her hand. "It's okay. Take your time."

"They were going to sacrifice me," Dawn said finally, her voice trembling. "But then… he showed up."

"Who?" Buffy asked sharply.

"The guy who brought me home," Dawn said. "He, uh… he kind of saved me."

"Saved you how?" Willow asked, leaning forward.

Dawn hesitated, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how much to tell them. Harry had asked her not to say anything about him, but how was she supposed to explain this without mentioning him?

"He just… showed up out of nowhere," she said finally. "The demons freaked out when they saw him, and he told them to let me go. They listened."

Buffy frowned. "Demons don't just 'listen.' What did he do to them?"

"I don't know!" Dawn said, frustration creeping into her voice. "He didn't hurt them or anything. He just… scared them."

"Did he say who he was?" Giles asked, his voice calm but probing.

Dawn bit her lip. "No. He didn't really say much about himself. He just wanted to make sure I got home safe."

Buffy crossed her arms, her suspicion evident. "And you just trusted him?"

Dawn hesitated, glancing at the floor. "He saved me, Buffy. What was I supposed to do—say no?"

The room fell into an uneasy silence as the Scooby Gang absorbed her story. Buffy's protective instincts were warring with her frustration, while Giles' analytical mind was already piecing together the implications of what Dawn had said.

"We need to figure out who this guy is," Buffy said finally, her tone resolute. "If he's some kind of… supernatural big shot, we need to know what we're dealing with."

"He's not dangerous," Dawn said quickly, her cheeks flushing.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "And you know that how?"

Dawn shrugged, refusing to meet her sister's gaze. "I just… do."

"We'll keep an eye out," Giles said, stepping in to diffuse the tension. "But for now, I think we should be grateful that Dawn is safe."

Buffy sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Fine. But if I see him again, he's getting a full Slayer interrogation."

Dawn rolled her eyes, sinking back into the couch. "Good luck with that," she muttered under her breath.

Buffy shot her a look but didn't press further. Instead, her gaze shifted to Giles. "So what's the plan? We just wait around until this 'Morningstar' shows up again?"

Giles adjusted his glasses, his expression thoughtful. "Not quite. If this… individual is tied to the ritual, there may still be evidence at the site. It could give us some idea of what we're dealing with."

Buffy frowned. "You think the demons left a paper trail?"

"Unlikely," Giles said. "But magical rituals often leave residual traces—scorch marks, symbols, or magical disturbances. We need to examine the scene."

Willow straightened, her interest piqued. "I can bring my supplies. If there's anything lingering, I might be able to read it."

"Then we should move quickly," Giles said, his tone firm. "The longer we wait, the more those traces will fade."

Buffy hesitated, glancing at Dawn. "You're staying here."

Dawn opened her mouth to argue, but the look on Buffy's face shut her down. With a dramatic sigh, she sank deeper into the couch. "Fine. But if you find anything cool, I want to know about it."

Buffy gave her a tight nod before grabbing her jacket and heading for the door. "Let's go."

Scene Change

The warehouse loomed in the darkness, its windows shattered and its walls scarred with soot and grime. The faint glow of the streetlights barely penetrated the gloom, casting long shadows that seemed to shift and twist unnaturally.

Buffy pushed open the creaking door, her Slayer instincts on high alert. "Well," she muttered, stepping inside, "this definitely screams 'evil ritual.'"

Behind her, Giles lit a small lantern, its warm glow illuminating the cavernous space. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smell of burnt incense. Scorched symbols marred the floor, their shapes jagged and uneven.

"I think it's more than that," Giles murmured, his eyes scanning the markings. "This was no ordinary summoning."

Willow knelt near a smudged section of the circle, running her fingers over the etched runes. Her brow furrowed as she muttered to herself, trying to piece together the remnants of the ritual.

Buffy glanced around, her expression tense. "So, what are we looking at here? Demon summoning? Apocalypse? Both?"

Willow looked up, her face pale. "These aren't just summoning runes," she said quietly. "Some of them… they're binding symbols."

"Binding?" Buffy echoed. "Like, trap-the-big-bad binding?"

"Not exactly," Tara said softly, stepping closer. "These symbols aren't for holding something in place. They're for… siphoning power."

Buffy's frown deepened. "Siphoning power? From what?"

Willow and Tara exchanged a grim look before Willow pointed to the center of the room. "From whoever—or whatever—they summoned."

As the group moved deeper into the warehouse, the evidence of the ritual became more disturbing. Scorch marks formed an intricate pentagram at the center of the room, surrounded by smaller symbols glowing faintly in the dark. The smell of sulfur hung heavy in the air, and the faint hum of residual magic sent shivers down their spines.

Dawn, who had insisted on tagging along despite Buffy's protests, froze in her tracks as her eyes landed on the far wall. "Uh, guys?" she said, her voice shaking.

Everyone turned to see what she was pointing at. Scrawled across the concrete in deep crimson were the words:

"HE WALKS THE EARTH AGAIN."

Beneath the phrase were smaller symbols—twisted snakes, inverted crosses, and crude pentagrams. The jagged writing looked hurried, as if whoever had painted it had been trembling.

"Well, that's not subtle," Xander quipped, though his voice lacked its usual humor.

Giles stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the symbols. "These markings… they're not just decorative. They're tied to apocalyptic prophecies—specifically those involving the rise of ultimate evil."

Buffy crossed her arms, her gaze darting to Dawn. "What did the demons call him?"

Dawn hesitated, her cheeks pale. "They kept calling him… Morningstar."

The group fell silent. Giles' expression darkened. "The Morningstar," he said quietly. "It's another name for Lucifer. The devil."

"Yeah, they called him that too…" she hesitated again but said weakly, "But he swears it isn't true."

A/N: Hey guys. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I have around 8 more chapters planned out and partially written. I plan out releasing them twice a week and editing them as I go. Hope you enjoy.