The Eighth Weasley

Notes: Hopefully, this chapter’ll remain fairly not-long, as I barely have time to work on anything at the moment (Chapter 2 of dissertation due in a week and a half) and having a dozen series in progress = not the best of ideas. Plus, people keep plying me with more ideas for one shots and epics. Rather scary, to be honest.

Anyone, on with the chapter.

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“Where is he?”

Minerva McGonagall looked like the proverbial raging bull, strands of hair breaking free from the constraints of her bun, her robes flapping around her legs as she strode imperiously into the medical wing.

Evening had come and the small collective of Sunnydale patients were surrounded by their various guests.

At the far end of the ward, a curtain shifted slightly. “I’m here, Minnie,” Spike’s voice was weaker than usual and before he could fully rise from his bed to greet her, the Deputy Head Mistress was storming towards him.

“I’d say run, Spike,” Buffy noted dryly from her bed, where she was still hooked up to a line of sanguine potion.

“Um...”

“Billy, you pillock! How dare you almost get yourself killed off without telling me!” The vampire’s squeal of shock when she caught him around the middle and hugged him made everyone in the medical wing crack up.

“Minnie!”

Pulling back, she shook him by the shoulders. “Don’t you dare do that again or I’ll have to kill you myself, you irritating, obnoxious twit!” She hugged him again, then pulled away and straightened her hat and robes. “So...”

“Feeling better, Spike?” Buffy asked drowsily, giving him a half-smile, as he and McGonagall approached her bed, his arm looped around Minerva’s shoulder to keep himself upright.

The vampire gave her a glare. “You know I’d bash you senseless for doing that, you dozy bint,” he said, his eyes fastening onto the patch of bandage at her neck. “I’m just a vampire. I didn’t do anything to earn a nibble, like Peaches.”

“You’re a friend,” she countered, smiling wanly. Her face was still pale, but she looked like she was improving by the minute. “And Dawn woulda killed me if I’d let you die on us.”

“Uh-huh!” Dawn agreed vehemently. “We need our Spikey goodness around.”

“Spikey goodness?”

Dawn grinned. “What?

“While this is all very well and good,” Giles cleared his throat. He was sitting on Buffy’s bed, which was surrounded by Dawn, Willow and Duncan, while Angel and Xander were sitting with Cordelia. “Spike, could you tell us what happened?”

Looking down at his bare, marked chest, Spike’s hands rose and touched the healing wounds on his cheeks. They were almost entirely gone, thanks to the combination of Slayer blood and Madam Pomfrey’s solutions.

“Dru was looking to do something,” he finally said, a pained expression crossing his face. “Said something about having to get the picture right, so she could get everyone in the right place. I was the picture...”

“The picture...?”

Cordelia groaned. “I knew there was a reason I hated that bitch,” she growled. “She knows that I’m a Seer and she knew that if she put someone from your side in enough danger here, I’d see them...and feel it.”

“Sorry about that, ducks,” the vampire offered, grinning a little.

“And yet again,” Cordelia gave him a look that was one of her vintage ones. “in a roundabout way, I end up bleeding from the gut because of you and that crazy bitch you called a girlfriend.”

“Nice to know we’re consistent, eh?”

Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “Uh... huh...”

“Yes, yes, but that raises the question about she got in here,” Giles interrupted. “If you recall, we have had the protective barriers up for weeks now and nothing could get in through them.”

“Unless she got in before them,” Buffy murmured. “Giles, that night the demons got into the Great Hall... since that night, I’ve been having the same dream... something walking around the halls, waiting to be found... what if it was Dru?”

“That would kinda make a lot of sense,” Willow agreed, looking up at Giles. “She could have used the craziness that happened as a distraction and hidden until she was ready to make her move. The castle’s big enough to hide in.”

“Except Albus would know,” Anya added, pacing the middle of the ward, twisting her hands together anxiously. “Albus knows everything that goes on in the school. He has a watching bowl. He let me look at it.”

Furtive, uneasy looks were exchanged.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she added. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything about what I saw in it.” She beamed around in a way which did nothing to allay their suspicions. “And anyway, he would see her.”

“Not if Dru’s in with Glory,” Spike countered immediately. “If she’s got help from a Hell Goddess, something tells me she’d be able to stay hidden if she wanted to.”

“Were they looking for Dawnie?” Buffy asked.

Spike nodded. “But not because of the reason we expected,” he replied, giving Dawn a reassuring look. “I think they were looking for the most obvious piece of blackmail material, especially with her being your sister and all...”

“So they’re going to do it the old-fashioned way, huh?” Cordelia remarked, leaning against Xander, where he sat on the edge of her bed, his arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist. “Kidnap and blackmail... not exactly what you’d expect from a Dark Wizard and Hell Goddess.”

“Yes,” Giles said dryly, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “What happened to the good old-fashioned standards of charging in, wands blazing, and killing us all? I must say I find myself disappointed.”

“Giles,” Buffy chastised with a chuckle. “Sarcasm is nobody’s friend.”

The Watcher gave her an affectionate look, then turned his attention to the rest of the group. “That does beg the question, though, where is she now? We know that she doesn’t have Dawn and no pupils have gone missing recently...”

“And she can bypass some of the paintings, somehow,” Spike added grimly. “She was in my room, waiting for me.”

“Then why didn’t she just come and get me from our room?”

“I’m not sure, Niblet,” the vampire replied honestly.

Minerva raised a hand. “I believe I know the reason for that,” she said. “There are additional protection charms on the Summers’ painting, as the Head Master believed it better to be safe than sorry.”

“And suddenly I’m feeling so very neglected,” Spike groused, receiving a slap across the back of the head from the deputy Head Mistress.

“Does that mean the common rooms...?”

“They would be accessible!” Giles surged to his feet. “I’ll go and warn the Head Master and make sure that the pupils are safe.”

Minerva nodded. “I’ll join you,” she said, helping Spike to sit down in the chair that Duncan had just vacated for him. “And you, Mister T. Bloody, you'd better be in one piece when I come back, or I’ll be rather annoyed.”

“I’ll try, Minnie,” Spike chuckled. “You have fun with Tweedman, superhero to old-aged pensioners and protector of the teabags.”

“Spike, you may be ill, but that won’t stop me staking you,” Giles said pointedly.

Leaning back in the seat as Minerva grabbed the watcher by the arm, the vampire licked the inside of his cheek. “You could try it, Watcher,” he drawled. “And Minnie could shove her wand somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Hiding behind a witch, huh?” Buffy laughed at the glare on Giles’ face, as he was hauled away by the Deputy Head Mistress.

Spike grinned broadly. “If it keeps my pretty white arse intact, hell yeah!”

***

“We have to ask you all to remain in the Great Hall, until we are sure the threat has been taken care of,” Standing on the platform at the front of the hall, Dumbledore looked around at all the upturned faces, his hands folded in front of him.

Worried looks were exchanged amongst the pupils, the Head Boy and Girl moving to the fore of the group along with the Professors to receive instructions for themselves and the Prefects.

“Hey,” Lorne eased into the group in spite of some of the wary glances from some of the Professors. “Want me to hang around in here and keep the kiddos occupied until we know the place is safe again?”

Dumbledore gave the demon a grateful smile. “It would be a great help,” he replied honestly. “We need as many Professors available as possible to sweep the school and see if any trace of this vampire can be found.”

“So, who else is with me, here, then?”

The Head Master’s brow furrowed. “I think it may be safer if I remain here, lest she manage to access the hall,” he said. “While I know the school well, I believe that this is the room that will be under the greatest threat.”

“Well, isn’t that just the most comforting thing you couldn’t have said,” Lorne rolled his eyes expressively, nodding towards the Prefects, who were suddenly looking very nervous and pale.

“They have to know the circumstances that we are in,” Dumbledore said softly. “I doubt that softening the truth will help in circumstances such as these.”

Lorne nodded in agreement. “I guess that’s kinda a smart move to make,” he agreed, glancing towards the door. “Better get your boys and girls out and searching. We want those doors shut before something nasty sneaks in on us.”

Drawing the rest of the teaching staff closer to him, Dumbledore gave them their instructions, then motioned for them to depart, all of them filing out silently, their wands in their hands.

The immense doors of the Great Hall were closed behind them and the pupils looked with nervous expectation to Dumbledore and Lorne, the two most brightly-coloured characters in the hall.

“Well,” the Head Master said with a show of joviality that was almost convincing. “I believe it is rather early for bedtime, so I would suggest that if any of you still have homework to be done...”

Several groans sounded around the hall.

Dumbledore winked at Lorne, who couldn’t help grinning at the Head Master.

The tables were still lining the halls, so the assembled pupils split into groups, some in their houses, some with their friends, many of them in casual clothing and only the very few actually armed with their homework.

Moving to sit at the end of one of the tables, Lorne was caught by surprise when a petite brunette third year stepped in front of him, backed by a small knot of teenagers, who looked about the same age.

“Can I help you, cutie?” he inquired.

The girl looked to her friends for support, then nodded, blushing furiously. “We... um... we were wondering if you could tell us about demon things... for Defence of the Dark Arts... that is, if you’re not busy...”

Over their heads, Lorne saw Dumbledore spread his hands in a gesture that clearly said ‘This is nothing to do with me’, the twinkle in the Head Master’s bright blue eyes suggesting otherwise.

“Sure I can help you,” he replied, beaming at them. It was so strange to be accepted by this large a number of humans, something which rarely happened in Los Angeles, his face too much of an obstacle for many of them.

One of the girls, who looked like she might be a bit older than the others, touched his arm. “You can sit at the Ravenclaw table,” she said, nodding towards the table with a number of spaces at it.

“Thanks, hon,” Patting her hand, Lorne looked around at his group. “And you’re all wanting to hear what I have to say?” There were eager nods. “Well, I do know this absolutely fantastic story about...”

As the demon trotted off with his little entourage, Dumbledore smiled indulgently, his hands folded in front of him as he paced around the pupils and tables in the halls, taking in all of the children, some playing chess, some talking, some working.

They, he knew, were the things that made his job worthwhile.

***

“Is this everything you require?”

Sitting up in her bed, Summers nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Snapey,” she said, hauling the trunk that he'd just delivered to them in the medical wing closer. He had shrunk it to carry it from her room, expanding it as soon as it was on her bed.

Her sister and Cameron were still sitting by the bed, the boy looking utterly amazed by what he was seeing. Meanwhile, Weasley was pacing, the power crackling around her in a near-palpable cloud of energy.

On a nearby bed, the Seer was sitting with the Muggle, half-observing, half-wrapped up in their conversation, holding one another’s hands. The former-demon was sitting at the foot of their bed, anxiously looking at the door, as if she expected someone to enter at any moment.

Summers reached for the catch, groaning in irritation when she noticed the padlock on the trunk. “Crap... forgot about that...” she muttered, wrapping her hand around the padlock that had a link as thick as Snape’s finger.

With one swift jerk, she snapped it free.

No doubt a shoddy make, Snape decided.

“Buffy!” Weasley chastised. “I coulda summoned your keys!”

“And half of the doors, locks and chains in the castle with them, Will,” Summers retorted, grinning, as she opened the hefty trunk up. “I know how reliable you are at the charmy things.”

Weasley pulled a face, but stopped pacing, coming to the bed as the contents were revealed to them all.

Full to the brim with weapons, the objects in the trunk had the effect of stunning the Potions Professor into silence, the concept that a girl as tiny and dainty as the one before him had so many tools of battle absurd.

“What’s the plan, Slayer?” the vampire asked, leaning against the wall by her bed.

Picking up an axe and stake, Summers tossed them to the vampire without even looking and he caught them just as easily. “I was thinking we mount up,” she replied coolly. “And kick your undead bitch’s ass.”

“Sounds good to me, pet,” the vampire grinned. “I owe her a gesture of my affection and I’m thinking decapitation will be the best way to show that I care.”

“Buffy,” the darker vampire interrupted. “You don’t know that she’s alone.”

Another stake hurtled through the air and was caught by him. “That’s why we’re all going in there, full force,” the blonde replied grimly. “No undead ho messes with my place of work.”

“Scoobies reunited,” the Muggle said, grinning. Rising from the Seer’s bed, where he was sitting, he approached and peered into the trunk. “Ooh! My favourite!” Grabbing a mace, he hauled it out, noticing the shell-shocked look on Snape’s face. “What?”

Snape looked around the group, as the deadly weapons were distributed in a way that seemed more like sweets being handed out to children. “You are all aware that this is unusual behaviour?”

A stake in her belt, a cross in one hand and an axe in the other, Weasley looked at him with an amused expression on her face. “I guess you’ve never seen the Scooby gang in action before, Mister.”

“Scooby gang?”

“Slayerettes, if you prefer,” Harris replied. “We’re helpers to the almighty Slayer, which means we get to...” His eyes lit up and he beamed. Summers rolled her eyes and handed him a wrist-crossbow. “We get toys!” he exclaimed.

“You trust these... people with such weaponry?” Severus couldn’t help noticing the familiarity with which they gathered their arms, stakes and crosses handed out to everyone, along with the blades and bows.

Summers flashed an impish grin up at him. “Snapey, this is what we do. This is what we’ve been doing since we were sixteen-years-old.” She looked proudly around at the group. “This is the first time we’ve been altogether in nearby two years...”

“Not all!” Weasley protested. “Oz! Oz is part of the altogetherness and he isn’t here, so we’re not all!”

“Okay, almost all,” Summers corrected herself and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Snapey, when we were at school, we stopped the world from ending at least a dozen times. I couldn’t have done it without these guys.”

“That’s really nice to hear, but...” The dark-haired Seer’s words trailed off as she touched a hand to her forehead. “Oh...”

“Are you sure you...”

Summers pushed herself onto her feet, crossbow slung on her back, stakes in her belt and a cross at her throat. “We know how to fight as a group,” she said. “And we’ll do what we have to, to get rid of Dru and make this school safe again. We’ve done it before and we can do it again.”

“Not to interrupt the big speech, but...you...uh-oh...” The Seer’s body jerked back, almost hard enough to give her whiplash, her spine arching up off the bed, as Harris dived in and grabbed her, before the dark vampire could.

“What the hell...?”

Summers moved forward. “Vision,” she replied tersely, suddenly making the Potions Professor feel a lurch of sympathy for anyone who was cursed with being a true Seer, as opposed to the over-acting Professor Trelawney.

The dark-haired girl on the bed had a hand pressed to her forehead and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Words broke from her lips in staccato bursts. “She’s here... great hall... the kids... and another one...”

“Vampire?” the dark one demanded sharply.

“Yeah... just one... and ick on the clothes...” Gasping, her body went rigid, then she slumped back against the pillows, her eyes widening. Panting for breath, she stared wildly up at them, giving Harris a push. “She’s there now! Go! Run!”

“Albus! Albus is there!” the former demon gasped, grabbing Summers’ arm. “You have to save him!”

The look on Summers’ face was one of cold determination as she stalked towards the end of the ward. “Don’t worry, An,” she said coolly, her friends falling into orderly ranks behind her. “I intend to. Snapey!”

“Summers?”

“Stay here,” she called back, flashing a look at him. “If anything gets through here, you keep Dawnie safe.”

“I’m not a babysitter,” he snapped.

Before she disappeared from view, she turned and flashed that irritating grin at him again, then vanished from sight, leaving him alone in the medical wing with her sister, Cameron and the Seer.

The Seer struggled into a sitting position, pushing her long hair back from her face and smirking at him. “Slayer-whipped much?”

Snape growled, slowly and deliberately folding his arms and glaring at her.

It only made the Seer grin more widely up at him, Summers Junior snickering behind a hand, while Cameron tried to pretend he wasn’t present, muffled sniggers escaping from him.

Having met the group, he was becoming increasingly grateful that he had never been made to teach any of them, none of whom seemed to realise that they were meant to fear and respect him.

Bloody Americans.

***

Surrounded by a contingent of teenagers from all the houses, Lorne’s ability to read a person’s future aura when they sang had been brought to light and the students were taking it in turn to regale him with their voices.

His group had expanded rapidly, once people had started singing.

Even those, who had decided to try and sleep, when it had grown late, were half-listening to what was going on.

The tables had been piled away against the walls, leaving Lorne sitting on a sleeping bag with dozens of the wide-awake students around him, some sitting, some lying, all of them intently focused on him.

The only light came from above, from the candles bobbing peacefully between them and the ceiling. All in all, it was a peaceful, comfortable scene and the American demon was loving every minute.

Curiosity piqued, other students had filtered over to see what was going on and had been drawn into the increasingly large circle around the green-skinned demon, who was both entertaining them and teaching them at the same time.

“How does it work?” one of the Ravenclaws inquired.

“The reading thing?” She nodded. “Who knows, sweets? All I know is that I get a look in on what’s coming up... kinda glad it doesn’t work when I sing, cos hello! I would know everything about my life and then some!”

“You like singing, then?”

“Like it?” Lorne clapped a hand to his chest, a blissful look crossing his face. “Kid, you don’t know magic until you’ve heard music.”

“I know a song,” a reedy female voice said, soft, but carried by the acoustics of the Great Hall. Lorne stiffened, looking towards Dumbledore, whose face had suddenly got pale. “Do you want to hear it?”

Rising from his place at the table, Lorne motioned for the students to remain seated.

“Run and catch,” the voice started to sing softly. “Run and catch...”

Clutching at his temples, Lorne squeezed his eyes shut in pain, as the visions started crashing in on him, his head spinning. “Stop...” he moaned, staggering, stumbling down onto one knee. “For the love of...”

At the dais where the High Table stood, a slim sylph-like figure drifted out of the shadows, licking the index finger of her right hand. “But you said that music is special and now, when it rings in your head...”

“Halt!” The fire in Dumbledore’s voice surprised even the demon, the old wizard’s wand raised and directed at the vampire.

Drusilla’s blue-grey eyes found the Head Master, her lips curving in a lazy smile. “I know you won’t spank me,” she purred. “Not when I am keeping your pet with the magic eyes in my hold.”

“Pet?”

The vampiress, her face in its human planes, beckoned to someone in the shadows, a shaking figure staggering forward. Drusilla grabbed the woman’s arm, as several of the pupils gasped in shock.

“Sybill!” Dumbledore’s furious expression was tainted with shock.

The Divination Professor’s face was white, her notoriously bad make-up smudged beyond recognition. Staring around wildly, she seemed unsure of her surroundings, a panicked look on her face.

The vampire pulled Trelawney’s body in front of her, the Professor’s gaudy dress and shawl stained with crimson.

“I had a little nibble,” Drusilla cooed, running her fingers down Trelawney’s neck, her eyes never leaving Dumbledore’s face. “I was hungry and the stars wished that I would eat her all up, but I said no! No to the naughty stars. I must wait until I find the sister of the shining one.”

“You will not find her here,” Dumbledore stepped forward, his eyes flashing.

The vampire made a whining sound low in her throat. “But there are so many other naughty little boys and girls,” she murmured, still stroking Trelawney’s neck, dark hair matted with blood and clinging to the skin. “I could eat them all up...”

Lorne, still clutching his head, scrambled back onto his feet and started motioning the students towards the doors of the Great Hall, while the Head Master advanced on the vampire and her hostage.

“All locked in, like mice in a cage,” Drusilla giggled, her head swaying from side to side, as Lorne tried to force the door open. “Nowhere to run... nowhere to hide...” A chorus of terrified screams rang out when her vampiric features came forth. “Oh, it’s like singin’ in my ‘ead...”

“Head Master...”

Whirling, Dumbledore fired a spell at the doors, but they remained tightly closed and the pupils starting massing towards them, the scent of fear and confusion filling the Great Hall.

“Nowhere to run... nowhere to hide... the eyes are all-seeing...” Trelawney moaned, Drusilla still gripping her throat, her voice lower than any of them remembered it being. “Blood washes the floors... the walls are licked with scarlet...”

“My pet sees such pretty pictures,” the vampire grinned, showing all her fangs. Her golden eyes flashed with mirth, her oddly-reptilian features highlighted eerily by the torches on the wall. “She sees the magic that I can’t, so pretty, singing and shrieking in her head...”

Suddenly, she froze...

“My bad daddy...?” she whispered, uncurling one hand towards the ceiling. “Is he coming here to me...?”

Lorne’s red eyes darted towards the door, then the pupils blocking it. “Out of the way, everyone!” he cried, motioning the pupils into the corners of the room as a blow was struck on the opposite side of the door.

Drusilla’s hands ran down her body, a moan escaping her. “Come and spank me all better, daddy...”

A crash sounded and the doors of the Hall exploded inwards, showering the students with splinters, revealing the tiny, blonde Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, smiling broadly. “Hi! Mind if I gatecrash the party?”

Drusilla’s lips curved in a grin. “Slayer... the one with sunshine in her hair...” Her eyes went past Buffy to the tallest figure behind her. “And my bad daddy... playing with the little ones again... tuttut... grandmum will not be pleased...”

“Like she’d care,” Angel growled, a stake gripped in his right hand. “You shouldn’t have come here, Dru.”

Drusilla mewed in her throat. “My bad daddy will come back,” she cooed. “I was dreaming it, daddy...and then, you’ll chain us all up and play such naughty games... and spank us all...naughty, bad daddy...”

“Uh-huh... nice to see you haven’t upped that sanity quota yet,” Buffy Summers said cheerfully, stepping into the hall, a group spreading around her, every one of them armed to the teeth. “So... do we fight yet?”

Clapping her hands, Drusilla called out, ”Come out and play my pets!”

From the shadowy end of the Great Hall, through the side doors and from behind Drusilla, a pack of demons swept out, the Slayer’s eyes widening.

Every single one of them was at least seven-foot tall with scaly grey-white skin and deeply-sunken red eyes. Fang-filled mouths and claws were bared, spikes running from their foreheads and down their spines.

“Lorne! Get the kids out!” she called, running forward, whipping the crossbow off her back and firing a bolt before she even finished speaking, one of at least two dozen demons smashing to the floor, shot through the eye.

“Scoobies spread out! Take ‘em down!” Xander yelled, charging into the fray, mace in one hand, axe in the other. “Get the kids out safely!”

The green-skinned demon started rushing the hoards of panicking children out as the Scooby gang ploughed into the demons, Willow lashing out with an axe and catching one of the demons in the chest, casting whispered charms to direct her aim.

Drusilla threw Trelawney to one side, the Divination Professor colliding with the wall and collapsing. The vampire leapt from the dais, gliding towards Buffy, who hefted her sword and stake, striding determinedly towards the dark-haired vampiress.

Angel, meanwhile, tackled one of the larger demons, with Anya - howling blue murder and a string of obscenities in a dozen languages - hitting anything vaguely non-human that crossed her path with a curved knife.

The pupils were being ushered out by Lorne, Giles and McGonagall barrelling into the battle as soon as they reached the hall, the number of demons not seeming to fall in spite of the strikes being landed on them.

“You stole my Spike from me,” Drusilla growled, as Buffy approached her, a demon between them taken down by a blast from the Head Master’s wand. “Filthy slayer, stealing my Angel and my Spike...”

Lunging in with a volley of blows, which Drusilla blocked in rapid succession, the Slayer laughed mockingly. “Proves how good you are at keeping a guy, doesn’t it, psycho-girl?”

Drusilla hissed, striking Buffy in the centre of the chest, knocking the Slayer back, into a backflip. Whirling, the small blonde swung out her right leg in a roundhouse kick that would have taken a human’s head off.

The savage kick caught Drusilla across the head, the vampire whipping around from the impact, striking out at the back of Buffy’s other leg with razor-sharp claws, the Slayer stumbling.

Unfortunately, Buffy was still weak from loss of blood and she didn’t quite have the edge over the powerful vampire that she would usually have.

One of Drusilla’s hands locked around her throat and she choked, her eyes widening as she felt the nails biting into her skin.

A flash of a pale arm dashed down in front of her eyes, connecting with Drusilla’s arm and breaking her grip. Something hit the dark-haired vampiress and she crashed down onto the floor.

“Hello, luv,” Spike grinned nastily down at his sire, who was staring at him with an expression of confusion and horror. “Miss me?”

“My Spike?” she whispered.

“Gotta say I don’t appreciate being left for dead, sweets,” he drawled, hurling his knife, his Sire too surprised by his appearance to avoid it, the blade lodging deep in her stomach, cool blood gushing out over her hands. “All right, Slayer?”

Buffy nodded, rubbing her bruised throat. “Yeah... I’ll be fine...” Regaining her breath, she snatched an axe from the back of one of the fallen demons. “Giles! These things won’t die! What do we do?”

“Decapitation!” Giles bellowed back.

“Spike?”

The blond vampire smirked. “I’ll be fine, ducks,” he said, his eyes on his sire at his feet. “You go and kill things.”

Scrambling backwards, away from him, Drusilla stumbled to her feet, yanking the blade out of her body and staring at him. “You were to be dust, my wicked boy,” she gasped, shaking her head.

“Well, yeah,” he grinned at her, circling her slowly. “But you didn’t count on me having a mate like the Slayer.”

Drusilla hissed, then froze, staring beyond them at the door. “The key...” she gasped, pushing Spike aside with more strength than she appeared to have. “It calls...”

Startled, Buffy spun to see Dawn and Snape race into the Hall. “Buffy!” Dawn shrieked. “Cordelia! Another vision! Demons!” Then, the teen appeared to notice the ongoing battle. “Oh... you know... right...”

“Get her out of here, Snapey!” Buffy howled, running towards the demons that were charging in the direction of her sister. One of them received an axe solidly to the back of its head, crashing down less a foot from the girl, who yelled and kicked out at it.

Snape grabbed the teenager around the waist, hauling her back out of the hall, his wand blasting several of the demons backwards as they backed out into the open Hall, the Head Master moving to block the demons from exiting the Great Hall.

“The key!” Drusilla growled, smashing Buffy to one side and charging at Dawn, a punch across her face sending her reeling. Standing over his sire, Spike glared down at her. “My Spike!”

“You left me for dead, you miserable bitch,” he growled, his own features flaring into vampiric ridges. With a vicious back-hand, he sent her scudding across the floor, tackling her, the two vampires grappling, clawing and biting one another.

“Get her to safety!” Buffy yelled to Snape, rapidly fitting another bolt into her crossbow and catching a beaten demon through the back of the skull. It fell, bloody goo spilling from a hole in its forehead.

Running forward, Buffy slammed the axe down on the demon’s neck, but the neck was at least two feet in circumference. “Oh... crap...” she groaned, hacking wildly at the neck, until it parted from the body. “Giles! Make my axe bigger!”

“And you girls say that size doesn’t matter,” Xander jibed, as Buffy’s axe expanded in her hands.

“Funny, Xander,” Buffy retorted, joining her dark-haired friend. “Okay...” Xander launched a bolt from his wrist bow, which hit one of the demon’s harmlessly in the chest, but made it look down.

In that split-second of distraction, Buffy swung her new and improved axe, taking its head off completely.

“Heads up!” Buffy gave Xander a disbelieving look. “What?” he demanded in an injured tone. “It was funny!”

“Guys!” Willow yelled. “Um... HELP?”

Buffy sped to her friend’s side, tackling the demon away from Willow, the head of the axe plunging into the demon’s chest as she crashed down on top of it. Leaping onto her feet, she yanked the axe free and swung it down, cleaving the demon’s skull in half.

“Oops!” She winced. “Neck...”

“Again we see why Buff would be a bad vampire,” Xander laughed, catching one of the demons over the back of the head and smashing it to the ground.

“You want me to use the axe on you, Xan?” Buffy demanded.

Xander turned to respond, yelling in fright as Buffy dived towards him. She hit him in the belly, knocking him to the floor and out of the path of the claws of one of the demons, landing on top of him.

“Enough talk,” she panted. “Time to fight.”

“Agreed,” Xander nodded.

“Buffy!” Angel tackled a demon away from them, pinning it down. “Axe!”

Spinning, Buffy hurled her axe to him and there was the squishing sound, like a piece of metal hitting an overripe pumpkin with force enough to burst it. A demon’s head bounced away across the floor.

“Thanks,” Angel panted.

“No problem,” Buffy replied.

The trio were on their feet in a heartbeat, back into the fight, Xander providing the core distraction, Angel providing the muscle to hold them, while Buffy plied her axe to the demons’ necks like a professional lumberjack would a tree trunk.

Willow and Giles were working together, using the combination of freezing spells and axe work to take some down, the Head Master and Anya making sure that the demons didn’t escape the hall, while McGonagall and Spike had teamed up again.

“The floor’s rather dusty,” Minerva noted, ducking under an axe swipe.

“Sire had a run in with a stake,” Spike answered matter-of-factly.

“Thought as much,” Minerva glanced at him. “You all right?”

Gold eyes darted to her face. “Can we talk about it after?” he asked.

“That bad?”

Spike said nothing, tackling a demon and landing his axe on its throat.

It seemed like an eternity before the demons were defeated, blood, ichor and slime splattered all over the floor and walls. Bodies lay in pieces all over the floor, the little group standing in shaky pairs around the hall.

“Well...” Xander panted. “Never imagined a Scooby reunion being so much fun...”

“Tell me that’s a good enough excuse for me to kill him,” Angel muttered darkly, peeling sticky wads of slim off his face and neck.

Dumbledore, though, seemed oblivious to the chaos, hurrying across the hall to the place where Professor Trelawney had fallen, her body limply sprawled on the floor, against the wall.

Kneeling, he gently touched her throat. “Sybill?” he asked softly, his face going pale at the lack of a pulse. “Oh no...”

“Is she...?”

Cradling Trelawney’s body reverently, her head lolling back, Dumbledore looked up at Minerva sadly. “She’s dead,” he said.

Buffy limped over, pushing her hair back from her face with a dripping hand, her face bloody and streaked with slime. “I-I’m sorry, Head Master,” she whispered. “If we had known that she was in danger...”

“It wasn’t your fault that this happened, Professor Summers,” Dumbledore replied, giving her a reassuring look. “Perhaps you had best go and see that your sister is all right... and your seer friend. I... I would like a moment.”

“Cordy!” Xander dropped the axe he was still holding and sprinted from the room, skidding several times on slimy patches.

“I’ll just go... with him...” Buffy added, her head bowed in sympathy, as she slipped out with Giles, Angel following. McGonagall and Spike withdrew equally quietly, leaving the Head Master to mourn briefly on his own.

Willow was met at the doors by Hermione, who had just come racing back through the halls from searching the castle, the red-haired witch practically collapsing in her lover’s arms, allowing Hermione to lead her away.

The Great Hall was silent, the Head Master kneeling where Sybill Trelawney had fallen. He held her slight body in one arm, closing his eyes and bowing his head, allowing himself a moment of quiet memory.

While never the brightest and best of the Professors, she had been a decent woman and he knew that he would miss having her interesting variation of conversation at the staff meetings.

“I am sorry you came to this end, Sybill,” he said softly. “You deserved so much better than this.”

“Oh, don’t be too upset about my demise, Albus,” a voice said cheerfully from his arms. Opening his eyes, Dumbledore started in shock as Sybill Trelawney lifted her face and grinned at him. Her features shifted, sharp fangs emerging, golden eyes fixed on him hypnotically. “You’ll sour your blood.”

Dumbledore’s hand went for his wand but - due to shock delaying a reaction - the vampire formerly known as the Hogwarts Divination Professor was faster, slapping it aside and grabbing a handful of his hair to jerk his head to one side.

“Vintage wizard,” she purred. “Delicious and powerful...”

“Hey!” a voice yelled. Trelawney looked up and an axe cleaved straight through her neck, her head bouncing once on the floor before exploding in a cloud of dust. Anya slapped the handle of axe against her palm. “No one bites Albus’ neck, except me!”

Blinking, looking from the dust that had been about to bite him moments earlier, to Anya, Dumbledore exhaled a breath. The ex-demon tossed the axe to one side and knelt, flinging her arms around him so tightly he uttered a gasp.

“I thought you were going to die!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t want you to die! I don’t like it when people die, because it’s depressing and people cry and fight and I didn’t want to cry...”

Patting her back gently, the Head Master returned the embrace gently. “Thank you, Anya,” he said. “I have never been more relieved to see you. You knew?” He looked down at the dust pile again. “I never suspected...”

“Duh,” Anya sighed, pulling back a little and giving him a patient look. “You’re not very experienced, Albus.” He raised his brows. “You haven’t lived on a Hellmouth. You don’t know that you’re not meant to trust anybody, even if they’re dead.”

“She... Sybill...”

“Was a vampire and she was going to kill you. I hit her with an axe and now she’s dust,” Anya elaborated, pointing at the pile. “See?”

Massaging his forehead with his fingertips, he could feel an impending headache, on top of the shock, grief and confusion. “I think,” he said slowly, “that we had best go to my office. I need to sit down...”

“And chocolate?”

“Yes... that would probably be a good thing as well.”

Helped to his feet by the former demon, he smiled wanly as she took his arm and lead him out of the Hall, trusting that the house elves would clean it all up, including the rather numerous corpses littered everywhere.

***

“I killed her.”

Sitting on the couch in Minerva’s private chambers, Spike was staring blankly into a mug of rapidly-cooling blood. His hands were wrapped around the mug and he seemed oblivious to his surroundings.

Using her wand to send a ball of flame into the crate, casting a warming, gold-red glow over the room, Minerva returned to the deep green velvet-covered couch, where he was sitting.

“She left you for dead yesterday, Billy,” she said, raising a hand and stroking his hair. “You had every reason to be willing to kill her and she would have killed you, if you hadn’t.”

Tear-filled blue eyes rose to her. “But she was my Sire, Minnie... my bloody Sire...”

“I know,” Minerva acknowledged quietly.

Looking back down at his mug of blood, the vampire sniffed, swallowing hard. “I-I loved her, y’know... no one ever believes that a soulless vampire could love anything, but me and her... what we had was special. I would have done anything for her.”

“Even when she would have killed you?”

Spike nodded sadly. “That used to be how it was,” he said, stirring the blood with the tip of his finger. “I would have let her decapitate me, if it made her happy... I dunno where we went wrong...no... I do... the first time I helped Buffy... that’s where it all went downhill...”

“You could have turned on Buffy, you know.”

“No, I couldn’t,” Spike replied, looking up at her again. “You’ve seen what the Slayer and her sis are like. Her mum’s the same way. Mum and Nibbles treated me like a normal person and...” He laughed a little. “It’s funny, but I actually wanted to be treated like that. I liked just chatting with people, not killing all the time, even though it was fun. Angelus, Angel, what have you, he was all for ending the world when he was about. I didn’t want that. I liked doing things with mortals, like just talking or having hot chocolate...”

“So you stayed with Buffy?”

Spike grinned weakly. “Not by choice at first. I hated them all because they saw me as nothing more than a demon to be chained up and kept captive, but they started growing on me...”

“And now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “I’d rather die to protect the Niblet, the Slayer and everyone than let anything happen to them.”

Shifting on the couch, to lean back against the arm, Minerva gazed at him. “I knew you were an unusual vampire, Billy,” she murmured. “But I never realised just what a rare one you are. You actually care...”

“Yeah...” He stared down into his blood. “I care enough to do in the one who made me... no vampire is ever meant to do that... not unless the Sire has done something unethical in vampire eyes... and, well, you can imagine that not much is counted as unethical by vampires.”

“I’d say torturing you to the point of death and leaving you to drain of blood for eight hours would classify as a good enough reason.”

“We used to do that kind of thing for fun,” he muttered. “Without so much blood loss, though...”

“Ah...”

The mug slipped from his grip and shattered on the stone floor, his shaking hands rising to cover his face as he started to sob. “I killed my Sire... I-I-I killed her... I still loved her and I-I-I killed her...”

“Billy,” Minerva sat up, wrapping her arms around the vampire and cradling his head against her shoulder. Spike wriggled closer, clinging to her, as he wept, one of her hands smoothing his hair as she murmured reassuringly.

Gradually his sobs quieted and he fell silent.

Minerva tilted her head to one side to look down at him and his head where it was resting on her chest. The vampire was fast asleep, tears drying on his pale cheeks, his arms around her waist.

“Oh, marvellous,” she murmured, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Spike mumbled in protest, nestling closer. Minerva sighed and started to smooth his hair again, her own eyes heavy with exhaustion.

A soft, thrumming growl sound vibrated from Spike’s body, almost like the sound of a satisfied lion at rest and Minerva had to smile, when she realised that not only was Spike entirely comfortable where he was.

He was also purring.

“Sleep well, Billy,” she said softly, her hand resting lightly against his neck as she gave into the need to sleep with the vampire formerly known as William the Bloody using her as a pillow.

***

“I can’t believe she died.”

Giles was sitting on the window ledge in the medical wing beside Buffy, moonlight washing in on them, and gave her a look. “You should know by now that you can’t be expected to save everyone, Buffy,” he said.

On the other side of the ward, Cordelia was fast asleep, curled against Xander’s chest, the dark-haired youth half-asleep as well. Dawn was curled in a sleeping ball on one of the other beds, having been delivered back there by Snape.

After the debacle in the Great Hall, he had made sure that all of the American group were alright, provided some energy supplementation potions and given the Slayer a look, before sweeping away.

On last sighting, Willow and Hermione were sharing a post-battle smooch session against one of the walls outside the Great Hall, both liberally smeared in slime and goo, which would inevitably lead them to the bathrooms.

The only people left awake, it seemed, were Giles, Buffy and Angel.

“Yeah, but still... great start to the new year... three weeks into the term and we have death and destruction already...”

“You saved all the kids, Buffy,” Angel added. He was pacing the centre aisle of the wing, his hands interlocking and unfolding rhythmically. “It’s amazing that there was only one death.”

“Almost two,” Anya’s voice said from the door.

“Huh?”

The sandy-haired girl entered the wing, carrying one of Buffy’s smaller battle axes, a grim look on her face. “You said you were going to save Albus and the vampire almost ate him! That doesn’t classify as saving him.”

“Vampire? But Spike killed Dru...”

“No,” Anya gave her an impatient look. “That weird teacher who died. She was a vampire. She was going to eat Albus, so I cut her head off. Albus was emotionally affected. I made him eat chocolate and he’s resting now.”

“Trelawney...”

“Was a vampire,” Anya repeated. “With teeth and the grr and fangs and everything. I thought you were the Slayer and there I was, slaying! I had to cut off her head and I got a splinter in my hand!”

“You slayed a vampire?” Buffy stared at the former demon.

“What? Like I couldn’t? She was going to eat Albus! I like Albus and I couldn’t let her do that!”

“I-I didn’t think to check,” Giles said, shaking his head. “We knew she had been bitten, but assumed that she...”

“Was still a human,” Anya interrupted. “Yeah, so did Albus and he almost got eaten! Did I mention that he almost got eaten? I wasn’t pleased and he was shocked about it as well!”

“Is he all right?” Buffy asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Anya replied. “But he wanted me to ask you if Drusilla works with other demons a lot?”

Giles frowned, removing his glasses and pointlessly polishing them on the gunk-covered lump of fabric that was his tie. “Not-not on a day to day basis, no. I would say that she gathered those ones...”

“Mercenaries,” Angel said quietly.

The Watcher’s brow furrowed pensively. “I’m not t-too sure about that,” he said. “I noticed that she was in charge of them... she was looking for your sister and they were with her... perhaps they were all in the employment of...”

“Glory!” A look of horror crossed Buffy’s face. “It makes sense!”

“It... does?” Giles looked somewhat flummoxed.

Buffy nodded, pushing herself off the window ledge and pacing across the stone floor, her expression fraught with concern. “I had that dream, way back, and there were two sides lining up against each other... there were a helluva lot of people on her side of the line, Giles...”

“And you now know what it means?”

The Slayer nodded grimly. “I know.”

“Then what...?”

Turning to look at them, Buffy’s voice was strangely calm, but was belied by the fear in her eyes. “Glory’s gathering an army,” she replied. “She’s preparing for war.”