Legacy Of The Fathers

Chapter Four - Surprise

Notes: It was very naughty of me to leave a cliffhanger like that no? Oh and Draco is dead. Don't worry about it. :) As for Buffy's reaction - methinks she was having a bit of and off night and poor Draco was just getting some action for the first time in ages...our poor baby.

Also, this *might* warrant a slightly higher rating for potty mouth on the part of one of our merry heroes :) Just to give you warning.

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"Call nine-one-one! Get an ambulance!"

"Buffy?"

Looking at her bloody hands in panic, Buffy found Willow by her side. "Will! He wasn't a vamp!" she whispered urgently, her voice ringing frantically. "I-I thought he was... I staked him...in the back...I staked him..."

The colour washed from Willow's face, a hand coming to her mouth and she shook her head in disbelief. "Oh my God... Buffy..."

"I-I gotta get back to him..." Grabbing towels off the bar, the Slayer looked at her friend. "You...?"

"I'm coming with you."

The bartender was already dialing the number, as Buffy turned and ran back to the door, Willow on her heels, to make sure that there was someone left alive for the ambulance crew to deal with.

"Is-is he all right?"

"He knew who I was. He called me Slayer and then he passed out and I came to get the ambulance," Buffy answered tersely, rounding the corner to the spot where her unfortunate victim had fallen.

"Where is he?"

Buffy stared.

"He...he was right here..." she whispered, shaking her head in confusion. "I know he was... right on this spot..." Running a little way down the passage, she looked around, her face creased in bewilderment.

"You don't think a vamp...?"

"No...no, there weren't any here..." Buffy was utterly perplexed. "Where did he go?"

There was no one to be seen in the dim alley.

No sign that anyone had even been there.

Except the pool of blood at their feet.

***

On his return from England, a month earlier, Rupert Giles had brought several tomes from the Watchers Council that pertained to the subject of the Dark Lord Voldemort, who also happened to be the father of one of his charges, Alexander Harris.

It made for truly terrifying reading.

Several large folders full of paperwork had also been provided by the Council of Aurors, providing the perspective of the wizarding community at large, in the time of the Dark Lord's rise to power.

When contemplating the threat that Alexander could potentially pose, the Watcher had known that Voldemort had been bad, but he had no idea just how powerful the dark wizard had been.

He had lost track of his world, but now...

Now, he was glad he had been free of it, when Voldemort was in power.

To know that such atrocities were inflicted by one wizard on another was more horrible than he had even dared to imagine. Even the tales told by Draco Malfoy, Virginia Weasley and Severus Snape had done nothing to prepare him for it.

There was one reason that he was reading so much into the deceased Dark Lord.

Alexander.

Considering what Ethan had told him, he knew that Alexander had to be powerful.

To be able to actually kill Voldemort...

It had been thought to be impossible. No one who had faced him and cursed him had ever succeeded in killing him, but his own son, his flesh and blood, his Heir, had been the one with the power to do it.

That, in itself, suggested that young, gentle, passive Alexander Harris was more powerful than any of them had dared to even contemplate, even more powerful than his immensely powerful father.

Should he lose control...

It was a thought that was not even worth consideration, although Giles knew that they would have to keep an incredibly close watch on the boy, especially when his emotional state was brought to the light.

After all, he had lost his beloved mother, shortly after being the cause of death of his biological father.

As Ethan had noted, if Alexander decided to use his powers and started to develop them based on the broken emotions he was being forced to deal with and his unsteady mental state, the Hellmouth would no longer be considered the most dangerous thing in Sunnydale.

Hopefully, Ethan's contact would be able to help.

He was halfway down a page, when there was a knocking on the door, causing him to look up, a puzzled frown wrinkling his brow.

Buffy was supposedly going to the club, then patrolling and Alexander had seldom come back at night, until midnight, since he had taken up residence in the Watcher's small apartment, so who...?

Rising from the table, he crossed the small gap to the door and pulled it open, his mouth dropping open in shock at the sight of Alexander Harris, holding a grey-faced, leather-coat-wearing, unruly-haired Draco Malfoy upright.

"Hey, G-Man," Alexander grinned, although there was a look of urgency on his face, which was almost as pale as Draco's was. "Surprise."

"Evening, Giles," Malfoy flashed a smirk at him, although there were streaks of red on his temple, where it looked like he had tried to brush his hair back from his eyes and left...were those bloodstains? "Nice weather we're having for the time of year."

"Malfoy?"

"And you said he wouldn't remember me," Draco muttered, his right arm looped around Alexander's shoulder, Alexander's left securely around his waist. "For shame, Snake! How could he forget a devilishly charming chap like...ow..."

Giles had crossed the threshold in a heartbeat, his hands coming up to support Draco's left side, as the young man staggered slightly, eyes glazed with pain. "Do I get to know what happened or am I just expected to invite you in?"

"Oh, I was stabbed...by your slayer...nothing really."

"Dear Lord!"

Draco gave Alexander a hazy look. "I thought you said her name was Buffy," he smirked, wincing as he was negotiated forward, into the house and around the table and chair, towards the couch that stood with it's back parallel to the wall, which house the front door.

"You're funny, Ferret," Alexander retorted, his left arm around Draco's waist, his right, holding Draco's arm, where it rested on his shoulder. "Will you just shut up so Giles can do his fix-everything deal?"

Neither of them noticed the amused look on Giles' face, as he hurried towards the cupboards that stood against one wall, bending to retrieve the first aid kit that he had hidden there.

So this was whom Ethan had sent in to do his dirty work, was it?

For the most part, it appeared to be working.

"Me? Shut up?" Malfoy hissed through his teeth in pain as he was lowered to the olive-coloured couch. Using the coffee table in front of him to balance himself, he sat, pressing his eyes shut. "I don't shut up when I'm being tortured. I don't shut up when I'm shagging. Why would I shut up when I've got a hole in my shoulder?"

"Is there anything that does shut you up?" Alexander demanded, sitting down beside him and helping him ease the jacket off his shoulder, the blood-red shirt an even darker shade.

Malfoy paused to consider it. "No," he answered, then cursed in pain when Alexander lifted his arm free of the jacket. "Easy, you clumsy great git! I've got a bloody gaping hole in my shoulder! A little TLC wouldn't exactly go amiss!"

"Well excuse me for trying to stop you bleeding to death."

"Pillock," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Whiner," Alexander answered equally quietly, as he helped Draco out of the blood-soaked shirt.

"And once again, I am astounded by your maturity and wit," Giles said, shaking his head, as he sat down on Draco's left side, opening the first aid kit and withdrawing a pair of scissors. "Now, stay still..."

"What the hell are those for!?!" Despite the blood-loss, Draco surged to his feet, cursing as he banged his knee on the coffee table. "I don't know about you, but I REALLY don't like the look of muggle medicine, if they involve bloody great sharp metal things sticking into me and I'm not letting you anywhere near me with..."

"They're to cut your T-shirt off so I can treat the wound, Malfoy," Giles said with an almost Ripper-esque smirk.

It was far too much fun to wind up wizard-borns in the muggle-world.

Swaying slightly, Draco blinked. "Oh."

With a little help from both sides, the blond managed to sit back down, his face even paler than it had been a second before. Cutting away his T-shirt, Giles winced at the sheer amount of blood soaking the fabric.

The wound must have been struck hard to make him bleed so much. His torso was even paler than his face, beneath the streaks of crimson, the thin thready veins clearly visible beneath his skin that was taking on a pearly shade of blue from blood loss.

He was also thin. Lean, but seeing him like this, slumped forwards over Alexander's arm, he looked thinner than before and oddly fragile.

"Snake," Draco's mutter was barely audible.

"Yeah, Ferret?"

"If I die..." he rocked forward dizzily, Alexander's arm immediately sliding under his chest to hold him steady for the watcher, his hand spread out on Draco's ribs.

"Don't get sentimental on me. You're not going to die."

Dulled silver eyes glinted at him. "Bollocks to sentimental, you arsehole," he whispered, as Giles peeled the black T-shirt away fully. "I was saying...if I die," His eyes were getting rapidly more glazed. "I'm going to haunt you...it's your bloody fault I came here and that... that we went to the club and...that I got stabbed...and I'll make sure you... never bloody forget it..."

Giles couldn't help snickering at the blond boy. He really was very similar to Ripper, in manner as well as nature, although he really wasn't looking at all healthy at the present moment.

The wound to his left shoulder was at a very odd angle, Giles noticed, leaning over the young man's pale back. It looked like the weapon, no doubt a stake, had entered just at the top of his shoulder blade at a very steep downward angle so there was little chance of serious internal damage, but blood was still flowing from the wound and down the curve of his back.

The end of a long splinter of wood was sticking out of the ragged tear and the Watcher leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, catching it between his forefinger and thumb. With a sharp tug, he yanked it free.

"FUCK!" Draco yelled.

"Language, Malfoy," Giles said cheerfully, clapping a gauze strip over the wound when fresh blood started bubbling out. His hand pressed down and he studied the two-inch-long sliver of wood that had been lodged in Malfoy's back.

"I'll give you language, you bloody bastard!" the blond panted. "Are you trying to fucking kill me?"

Green eyes looked down at grey, an amused glint in Giles' eyes. "It was just a little splinter and it had to come out. Stop being such a child, Malfoy. I always thought you had brass knackers from the way you talked."

"Little splinter?" Draco's eyes shifted and he saw the splinter held in the older man's hand. "Bloody hell...no wonder it was sore," he mumbled breathlessly. His head drooped down, almost resting on his knees, his hair mussed over his pale face.

Alexander's attention was fully focussed on his friend, his right arm under Draco`s chest probably the only thing stopping the blond from slipping to the floor. "Is he gonna be okay, Giles?"

"Concern?" Draco mumbled, his skin nearly ice-cold against Giles' hand. "For me? I'm touched, Snake."

"Shut up, Ferret."

"Bite me."

"Not a good thing to say in this town," Alexander said, then looked up at Giles. "Is it serious, G-Man?"

"He-he has lost a lot of blood, Xander, but he should be fine," the watcher replied, lifting the edge of the once-white gauze to check the wound. The bleeding was already slowing to a trickle, but as a precaution, Giles knew the wound would have to be sealed.

Standing, the watcher hurried through to the kitchen, pausing at the sink to scrub his hands, before returning to the two boys on the couch, Alexander's eyes anxiously on him, as he sat back down.

Reaching into the first aid box, he smiled grimly.

Giles was once again grateful to the hospital in Sunnydale. It had provided packs for any people who passed their first aid training courses and were few and far between, although they had never been needed more.

The packs came with titles like `What to do, if a romantic evening in the woods goes wrong', which included steri-strips, a sterile needle and catgut for stitching wounds to the throat and a bottle of - although most people didn't realise it - Holy Water, for cleaning said wounds.

However, it was his ability to apply stitches, which - while not counted as first aid in anywhere except Sunnydale, it was seen as a necessary part of life on the Hellmouth - was most essential at this moment.

"Draco," he said, removing the gaze pad and quickly wiping around the wound with an alcohol-soaked steri-wipe, another of the wonderful freebies in the hospital's gift pack. "This may sting a little..."

"Sting?" the muffled mumble came from between Draco's knees.

Nodding to Alexander, who immediately gripped Malfoy a little tighter, Giles started the first stitch.

"HOLY SHIT ON A STICK!"

"Stay still, Malfoy," Giles snapped, his arm pressing down on Draco's back to hold the blond in place. "If you stay still, it'll be over with soon."

"Like hell I will you bastard!" the mumbling had become a lot more coherent. "That hurts! It bloody hurts, you filthy, muggle-loving wanker! That's not stinging you prat! That is A-class pain with a great big P!"

Alexander held onto the blond, making sure he did stay still. "He could make a lot more painful for you, Ferret," he said. "Trust me on that."

"Like hell, Snake! This bloody hurts! Don't you tell me you know!"

"Don't they give stitches where you come from?"

Draco was squirming and yelping as Giles drew the catgut tight. "NO! We're bloody wizards! We do bloody magic so getting our cuts fixed doesn't hurt more than the bloody cuts themselves!"

"Wuss," Alexander snickered.

"I'll do you for that, Snake, I swear," Malfoy's voice grew in volume and intensity, all thought of dizziness clearly thrown asunder by pain. "When I get my head up, I'm gonna do you for that! I'll rip your bleeding knackers off and throw them across the room and then we'll see whose a..."

"Finished," Giles said cheerfully, snipping the catgut with the scissors. He pressed a steri-strip over the wound, which was now a narrow centimetre-long line, just beneath the top of Draco's shoulder.

"Eh?"

Both Alexander and Giles sat back from the fuming wizard and Giles chuckled. "It might be a crude technique, Malfoy, but it works," he said, getting to his feet again. "I would suggest you restrain yourself from debollocking us, until you've at least had a little aid cleaning yourself up."

"Er..." Looking down at his bloody torso, Draco nodded. "Yes...that...that might be a good idea..."

"But first we'll get some fluids into you..."

"Scotch?" the blond suggested, a little too eagerly, grey eyes glinting with mirth and Giles frowned. "Just kidding, G-Man."

Alexander burst out laughing and Giles glared down in a combination of irritation, anger and genuine amusement at Draco, who smile sweetly and leaned back against the couch as best he could.

"You really are a beastly little wretch, Malfoy," the watcher muttered, as he stalked past and towards the kitchen, slamming open a cupboard with enough force to almost wrench it off its hinges.

One the couch, Draco grinned at the apparent commendation. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

***

Bursting in the front door of Giles apartment, Buffy looked around wildly for any sign of her watcher. She had left Willow at the Bronze, looking around for the guy along with Oz. "Giles!"

There was a clattering sound from the bathroom and Giles emerged, sleeves rolled up, a worried expression on his face. "Buffy?" he squinted at her through glasses that were steamed up. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Giles, I'm in so much trouble...there was a guy...outside the Bronze...I-I thought he was a vampire, but he wasn't...and I kinda...staked him..." A strange look crossed his face, but Buffy ignored it. "We...Willow and me...went for help, but when we came back... he was gone..."

"You are sure you struck him?"

"Yes! He touched it and there was blood and everything! And he knows who I am!"

Giles sat down on the arm of the sofa, removing his glasses and wiping them on the front of his shirt. "Oh dear..." he said, in a strangely monotone voice.

"Oh dear is right!" Buffy exclaimed, pacing in front of him, pointing at him with every question that she asked, in her increasingly hysterical voice. "What do I do? What if he tells someone? What if he dies?"

"He won't die," Giles replied dryly. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Buffy whipped around to face her Watcher, where he was seated, an angry look on her face. "Giles! This is serious! I stabbed a guy and now, he might be bleeding to death or telling everyone who I am!"

"Yes, I am aware of the severity of the situation, Buffy," he said. Even though he wasn't as stuff as he used to be, she couldn't remember him ever sound quite as patronising as he did at that moment. "However, I can assure you that the man you stabbed will not die or tell anyone, unless he wishes to find himself emasculated with my pruning shears."

Buffy blinked in confusion.

"How very...graphic you are, Giles," a voice spoke from directly behind her, dry.

Whirling around in fright, Buffy's mouth fell open at the sight of him! The guy she had staked was standing just behind her, leaning against the bathroom doorframe with no shirt on! Hooha! Definitely no shirt on!

He looked kind of different, his blond hair damp and hanging around his almost deathly-white face, but there was no trace of blood on any part of his body. A smirk lifted his lips.

"Nice to see you again, Slayer."

"G-Giles?"

From beyond the man, another person emerged. "Quit showing off, Ferret," her long-time friend, Alexander, said, giving the blond man a little push in the direction of the living room. "Hey, Buff."

The pair made their way forward, the blond wincing with every shift of his left arm, which he was holding to his body with his right hand. Alexander eased around the Slayer without meeting her eyes, helping the blond man to sit down.

"Xander? You know this guy? And you too, Giles?" Buffy looked from one face to the others, her face twisting in confusion. "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?"