The Eighth Weasley

Notes: What can I say? I felt like being mean - poor widdle Buffy all hurt and beaten up and Snapey the one to save her. Be still my beating heart...*snickers* Snapey the action hero - something tells me it won't catch on. Also, we now have conflict - BIG juicy conflict - coming up. I have never loved writing a story as much as I love this one! And YAY! Skank-bucket Malfoy, my favourite boy is showing up soon!

New notes (Jan 11th)- Yes, this is another of those chapters that was written way back in October in the wee small hours. I simply adored the idea far too much and then it kind of...spiralled out of control after the previous chapter. One idea lead to a whole spawned set of the bloody things. Oh and I LOVE Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey kicks so much butt its silly! :D

More new notes (March 13th) - And now, to add Wes/Gunn/Faith to the mix. And to think, they only got added to the storyline just after the chapter where Angel, the Host and Cordy arrived. Actually, it was only meant to be Faith, but hey! Fun and safety in numbers, no?

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"Poppy!"

Looking up from the potions she was arranging, Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened at the sight of Severus Snape storming into the medical wing, a small and bloody figure in his arms, blood dripping from the limp arms onto the floor.

"Good God!" the Matron gasped, getting up and motioning for him to bring the unconscious girl - she assumed it was one of the senior pupils - to one of the dozen beds that lined either side of the large, sun-filled room. "What happened?"

Bending to lay the wisp of a girl on the bed, Snape slid his arms out from beneath her body carefully.

"Two demons of some kind managed to get into the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom," he said grimly. "They clawed her back and arms with some superficial bruising to the face."

"And did they..." Madam Pomfrey's words trailed off as she saw the face of her patient. "Professor Summers?" She looked up when she heard the rustle of fabric and found Snape stripping off his thick waist-coat. "Severus?"

"She has been poisoned," his voice was clipped, sharp. "I'll need the usual tools and as little distraction as possible."

"But I'll have to..."

"Poppy, she heals fast. No time for questions."

The Matron studied him for a heartbeat, although - to Snape - it felt like a lot longer, then nodded, hurrying away. She knew him and his tone of voice so well and when he said something was important, she knew it was.

Within minutes, his analysis equipment that was kept in the medical wing, in case of emergencies such as this, was by his side, on the table that had been moved in beside the bed and he was taking scrapings of the black substances and the residues left by the claws, before giving the Matron permission to do what she could.

Placing a silencing charm over the whole infirmary as she moved in beside the bed where Summers lay, Madam Pomfrey took a moment to watch Snape as he began to work on the analysis, his precision and skill with potions astounding.

Turning her attention back to her patient, she grit her teeth at the sight of the raw, open wounds at the top of the girl's arms. Blood was already soaking into the white sheets beneath her at a steady pace.

Reaching for some of her cleansing cloths, she bound them over the wounds to let them do their work, carefully shifting the girl onto her side to see what condition her back was in.

The cleansing cloths were one of her preferred tools of her craft.

They were made of a cloth-like substance that was absorbed into the skin gradually as it healed, the material breaking down to provide cleansing disinfectants and healing chemicals as well.

At least nine bloody furrows were ripped into her skin, visible through the torn scraps of her shirt, which Pomfrey used her wand to do away with. They were deep cuts, but the Matron - looking closely - could see where the tissues had already started to knit back together.

The most she could do for the girl was clean the wounds, before they healed and sealed the poison inside.

Spreading more cleansing cloths over the wounds that seemed to cover almost every inch of the girl's back, she heard a faint moan from the young woman as the inbuilt healing and anti-biotic remedies soaked into her skin, the cloths fusing to the damaged areas of her back.

Placing a pillow of air beneath the girl, to prevent her from putting her weight on her back, Madam Pomfrey brought her back over, so she could check the wounds on her face, which were - as Snape had noted - superficial, but still nasty.

Using one of the many anti-swelling agents on the girl's right cheek and blackened eye, she gently sponged the drying blood off the girl's face, wondering if she should ask what had happened to the two attackers.

A brief glance at Snape, hunched over his potions equipment, suggested that would only be a good idea if she really wanted to know what it was like to have her head physically bitten off.

His eyes were entirely focused on what he was doing, his lips muttering soundlessly as he worked, his hands flying over the test-tubes, needles and droppers with a speed that seemed supernatural.

He would have an antidote within hours, no matter how complicated the poison, she knew, and she had done all that she could. The Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts was deeply unconscious now and there was nothing else she could do until Snape found the antidote, hopefully in time to save the young Professor's life.

She knew that, in spite of the blindingly obvious enmity that the two shared, he would still not allow a member of the teaching faculty to die, even if he spent half his time directing death glares at her, when they were seen in the same room.

Pausing to brush a lock of blonde hair back from Summers' face, she used her wand to conjure the young Professor's sleepwear, leaving her hovering a couple of inches off the mattress, clad in loose pyjamas, under a crisp white sheet and cream blanket.

Making her way back around the bed, leaving Snape to his work, she exited the ward and had barely closed the doors behind her when a panic-stricken red head had crashed into her and was gripping at her arm.

"What happened?" the youngest Weasley demanded. Her voice was shrill with fear and panic, tears shining in her green eyes. "Where's Buffy? Is she all right? Where's Cranky? What's he doing to her?"

"Willow," a male voice from behind seemed to calm the flame-haired girl and she backed off a little. Giles, assistant to Summers, was standing there, his face rumpled with concern. "Madam Pomfrey?"

The Matron was suddenly aware of a rather large audience gathering.

Professor Dumbledore had just entered the wing and was flanked by Hagrid - who was looking paler than usual - and Professor Granger, who immediately ran forward and gathered the sobbing Willow in her arms.

The blonde-haired vampire, the former vengeance demon and the Muggle boy were all there too, although the newest trio to arrive, Summers' sister, the green-skinned demon and the Seer were notably absent.

"Could you perhaps inform us of Professor Summers' condition?" the Head Master asked, his voice more troubled than usual, which was hardly surprising considering one of his members of staff had just been torn up in her own classroom.

Since the attacks in the Great Hall, they had assumed that all of the demons that Glory had concealed about the school had been taken care of, but apparently that had not been the case.

"She's presently unconscious," the Matron answered. "Professor Snape believes her to have been poisoned by either some secretion on the claws or in the blood of the creatures that attacked her."

"And you left creepy evil guy in there with her?" the Muggle youth said angrily. "If anyone is gonna poison her, it'll be him."

"Xander," Giles was the one that spoke, in a calm, but stern voice that succeeded in shutting the Muggle boy up before Madam Pomfrey could even consider starting to lecture at him.

"Professor Snape is an expert with poisons." The boy made a face that suggested he wasn't surprised and Pomfrey actually felt compelled to glare at him. "And with the antidotes, so I suggest that you remain silent and allow myself and my colleagues to treat our patients as we see fit."

Dumbledore stepped to the fore of the group.

"Poppy, is she comfortable?"

"As comfortable as she can be at present, Head Master," the Matron answered with a sour look at the Muggle. "If I may ask, what happened? Severus wasn't particularly informative. He didn't go further than saying that two demons had somehow gained access to the class. What happened? Where are they now?"

"They're dead," Hagrid answered for Dumbledore. The look on his face that said he had seen something that he was having trouble believing. "Yer patient there killed 'em both. An' with only a sword an' one spell from Snape."

"But surely they were too big for her to be able..." Madam Pomfrey's face twisted in confusion. "The claws...the creatures had to be at least eight...ten feet..." The Head Master nodded slowly. "And she...she killed them both?"

"Well well, the witch is catching on," the vampire drawled from the shadows. "Is it so hard to imagine a tiny bint like that could kick something the size of this bloody great git," he nodded to Hagrid, "across the room, if she wanted to?"

"Hey now..." Hagrid puffed up, looking offended.

"Statement of fact, you wanker." The vampire wasn't intimidated by the giant in the slightest. "And keeper-of-grounds, unless I'm mistaken, it was your job to keep the grounds safe, specifically to make sure that things like that didn't get in. How is the Slayer meant to protect..."

"Spike!"

"What?"

The former demon, Muggle and red-haired witch all groaned, while Hagrid looked even more indignant and started mumbling incoherently about how he didn't know everything that was in the Dark Forest.

Professor Dumbledore, though, was looking oddly tired and raised the fingertips of his right hand to touch his forehead in a soothing massage, as the squabbling voices rose in intensity and volume.

"Slayer?" Madam Pomfrey whispered. "You...you brought me a Slayer and you didn't think I ought to know?"

"Yeah, well there's a whole weird deal with her having a secret identity," the eighth Weasley answered, from her place in Granger's arms. "Kind makes it hard to go around telling everyone."

"Hey! People! A hand here!" Shuffling footsteps from the stairs leading down from the medical wing made Xander dash over, a curse escaping him as he darted down the stairs, to Lorne.

"What happened?"

Lorne and Xander reappeared over the lip of the stairs, the unconscious Cordelia carried tenderly in Xander's arms, a nasty looking cut on her temple streaking her hair with blood.

"The usual. Visionorama," the demon replied grimly. "She hit her head on the corner of a table when she fell. We gotta get someone to talk to the PTB about this. It can't be good for her."

"Get her into the ward," Pomfrey ordered briskly, grappling Xander's upper arm and dragging him into the room.

"Did she say what she saw?"

Lorne shook his head in a negative. "She only got one sound out before she fell," he said apologetically. "She didn't even have time to scream. All I could make out was 'room' and then she was on the floor."

"Room?" Xander emerged from the ward, his expression dark. "Nothing else?"

"What does that mean?" Willow asked. "I mean room. It could be anywhere and if we don't know where it is, how are we meant to get anywhere? Is it your room or our room or a room not in the school or..."

"Witch, will you shut up for a mo? I think I've just worked out what's going on around here," Spike came forward, a concerned look on his face, touching Giles' shoulder. "Watcher, where's the lil bit?"

"The lil..." the older man's face drained of colour. "Good Lord!"

He swung around and - at least it appeared to Professor Dumbledore - everyone in his group knew instantly, from the look on his face, that something was amiss, backs straightening, expressions of anxiety replaced with other emotions.

"Lorne! Watch Cordy for me!" Xander yelled over his shoulder to the green demon, already running to the stairs, the two witches, the vampire, the former demon and the Watcher all following him rapidly.

"Mr. Giles?"

"A distraction, Professor!" Giles called back. "They were a distraction!"

***

"Hey, D!"

"Faith!" Dawn rolled into a sitting position on the windowsill, where she had been reading, staring at the dark-haired slayer in amusement as she pulled the painting shut behind her. "So... uh... Flitwick got you some new clothes, huh?"

"Don't even go there, little sister," Faith replied with a shudder, looking down at the bright pink blouse and baby-blue trousers that the tiny teacher had forced her to don, by sheer force of his stubborn glare.

She, Wesley and Gunn had assumed that he was joking when he said he was taking them clothes shopping, after the weapons hunt.

They had still assumed - with a touch of desperate panic - that he was joking when he dragged them into a shop called Wiz Chic.

They had assumed - and prayed wildly to any deity who would deign to answer - that he was joking until he had handed each of them the most absurd combinations of clothing they had ever seen and insisted they don them.

He wasn't joking.

So, Faith had been kitted out in pastels, pinks and blues.

However, she had been the one to get off lightly. Gunn had been so mortified by his new look that she didn't blame him for going into hiding as soon as they got back. Wesley, though, looked strangely natural in black lace and scarlet.

Last she had seen of him, Wes was being chased down the corridor by Flitwick who was trying to convince him to wear the matching shoes, which - unfortunately for Wes - happened to be stilettos.

Yeah, she got lucky with plain old pinks and blues.

Fortunately, though, voluminous black robes hung over them, concealing the very embarrassing clothing for the most part.

Sitting in the sunlight, pulling up her legs to sit in the lotus position on the sill, Dawn leaned on her feet, grinning. "Your regular clothes are on your bed. I figured you'd wanna get them back on..."

"Dawnie, you are an angel," Faith sighed with relief at the sight of her familiar black trousers and dark vest. Peeling the robes off, she tore off the pink blouse and pulled on her own clothing. "God, that feels so much better..."

Cocking her head, Dawn asked, "You get any weapony things?"

"Just a few. We put 'em in one of the rooms downstairs, outta the way. Gunn and Wes are gonna test everythin' before B and me get to lay hands on 'em," Faith replied, pulling her hair free, shaking it out behind her. "And Wes let me get a wicked cool troll hammer. It's way powerful, he said. And a cannon!"

"Neat! Can I...?"

Faith gave her a look. "Dawnie, you know B doesn't like you usin' her weapons."

"You're no fun," Dawn said petulantly, sticking her tongue out.

"You want me to come over there and make you regret sayin' that?" Faith gave her a slow, dangerous grin. The teenager uncurled rapidly from her sitting position, panic in her eyes. "Well, D? You want me to prove ya wrong?"

"Kinda no!"

Faith's eyes glimmered with mirth. "You think you can outrun me, D? I know the room's big, but you honestly think you can outrun a Slayer?"

"Faith!"

Squealing, Dawn dodged under Faith's arm, as the dark-haired Slayer charged at her, pelting across the room and running across her sister's neatly-made bed to evade Faith's clutches.

"B is so gonna kill you!"

Dawn shrieked, bouncing out of Faith's grasp again. "I'm gonna blame you!"

"You wouldn't dare, kid!"

"Wanna bet? FAITH!"

Pinned down by the Slayer, Dawn squirmed futilely, Faith smirking at her as she started tickling the younger girl. "You were sayin' somethin', D?" she asked with mock-innocence, her fingers dancing across Dawn's ribs.

"Faith! Stoppit! Stoppit!"

"Stop what? This?"

"Yes! That!"

"You want me to stop that?"

"YES!"

"You don't like that? Or that?"

Gasping for breath, shaking with hysterical giggles, Dawn batted futilely at Faith's arms. "Off..." she gasped, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. "Get off! I'm so siccing Buffy on you!"

"See me tremblin' with fear, D," Faith laughed, swinging off the teen to sit on the floor, her eyes dancing.

"You are so mean!"

"I try, D."

They exchanged grins, getting back to their feet. Dawn dusted herself down.

"Dawnie?" a young male voice called through the large painting that served as a door. "Are you in there?"

Faith had crossed the floor like a panther, a knife materialising in her hand, as she approached the painting. She glanced at Dawn, asking in a lowered voice, "Friend of yours, D?"

"Who is it?" Dawn asked.

"Just me," the voice replied, the accent identifying the owner as Duncan, although he seemed to be talking in a more formal tone than usual, which struck Dawn as slightly odd. "Can I come in for a wee while?"

"Don't you have classes?"

"Not right now, no."

Dawn frowned, shrugging at Faith. "I guess," she replied, approaching the painting, where Faith still stood.

The older girl gave the painting a quick push and it instantly swung open to reveal Duncan standing there, but he made no move to enter the room, his expression placid and serene.

"Duncan?" Dawn took a step forward. "Duncan, you okay?"

It looked like he was pushed aside. "He'll be fine momentarily," a new voice said, before a black wand appeared in a gloved hand and a flash of blinding light followed the rapidly spoken words: "Petrificus totallus!"

"D!" Faith leapt in front of the younger girl, the blast of light splashing over her. She crashed to the floor, her body rigid, as a tall, expensively-dressed man with white-blonde hair and a pointed face leaned in the doorway, smiling icily at Dawn.

Blue eyes widened, as she realised just who she was seeing. "Oh my God..."

"As good a choice of words as any," Lucius Malfoy said coolly, grabbing her arms and jerking her to him. She stumbled, her foot catching on the inert form of Duncan, sprawled on the floor at their feet.

His eyes were half-open, blood running from an open wound on his brow.

"Omigod... Duncan..."

"Yes," Malfoy murmured. "The little fool tried to fight both me and my spell. I'm afraid I had to pacify him and a blow to the head seemed the easiest way."

"Release her!"

"GILES!" the girl shrieked and tried to run.

Malfoy's brow rose and he turned in the direction of the voice, Dawn pulled in front of him as a shield.

"Rupert Giles," he murmured, a surprised tone in his voice. "It's been a long time..."

"Not long enough, Malfoy."

Dawn could see Giles standing in a patch of evening sunlight, which was flooding in through one of the tall windows. He looked furious. She had never seen him look so angry. His wand was in his hand and he was backed up by Anya and Hermione with their wands, Willow with a ball of electricity crackling between her hands, Spike in vampy mode and Xander, fists balled.

"Need the little children to fight your battles for you, eh?"

Giles' eyes flashed green fire, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on his wand. "I kicked your arse when we were at school, Malfoy, I could do it again." He took a step forward and Dawn gagged as a hand locked around her throat.

"Come closer and I don't think you'll like what happens, Rupert."

"Harm a hair on her head and I don't think you are going to like what happens, Lucius." The Watcher had nothing vaguely watcher-y about him now. If Dawn hadn't known he was on her side, she would have been terrified by the cold, hard anger radiating from him. "Especially when her sister regains consciousness."

"Ah, the Slayer." The man holding Dawn's throat laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "You mean if she regains consciousness, don't you? After all, we have all heard how much Severus despises her. Do you honestly think he will try to save her?"

"Lucius, if you want to keep that badly-dressed body of yours intact, I would advise you to let Dawn go," Giles took another step forward, pausing when Dawn gasped, lifted onto her toes, the hand at her throat gripping tight.

Willow edged closer to Giles. "I could..." she whispered something, the ball of light crackling in front of her. Her hair seemed to be rising to ripple around her head in an unseen breeze and, although she couldn't be sure, Dawn was sure Willow's eyes had gotten darker.

Giles shook his head, nodding towards Dawn, his expression dark and raging.

"Gi-"

"Shut up, girl," Malfoy hissed in her ear. "You and I are taking a little trip..." A hand plunged into one of his pockets, withdrawing a long, thin necklace, which he hung around her neck, keeping it gripped in his fist. "Say goodbye, little girl."

Terrified blue eyes looked towards the group in front of them, a second before Dawn felt like something had hooked right beneath her belly, yanking her off her feet and into a whirling sweep of colour.

In the distance, she could hear shouting, then everything went dark.

***

"I'm going to bloody well kill him!" Spike bellowed furiously, smashing his fists through one of the oak panels on the wall of the hall. "The bloody noncing wanker with his froofy hair and magic necklace!"

Giles, however, didn't say anything to counter the vampire's raging. He sank against the wall, staring at the spot where Dawn and Malfoy had vanished, the necklace a portkey, no doubt.

How he had made it function within the protective boundaries of the school, he could not understand, although Malfoy's known connection to Glory...

Hermione raced forward, kneeling down beside Duncan and checking him over, the boy still unconscious. Her eyes darted through the doorway and she saw Faith there, raising her wand.

"Finite incantatum!" she cried out, the Slayer erupting from the floor, panting, her eyes flashing with dangerous fire.

"Where the hell is he?" she demanded, then seemed to notice the rest of the group outside of the door. "Aw, shit..."

"Giles, where...how?" Xander looked confused and furious.

"He must have used it to get in here," the wizard was whispering to himself, as if he could not believe what he had seen. "He used it to get here...after the demons...he sent the demons..." His voice was shaking. "He's got Dawn..."

"They got her? That bastard got D?"

Hermione nodded up at the Slayer. "It... it appears that way."

"I...I didn't think..." Willow said, shaking her head as the ball of flaming light in front of her dispersed, a trickle of blood running - unnoticed - from one nostril. "I should have poofed him...I could have..."

Giles shook his head. "We can't risk it... you could have hit Dawn," he said, looking up at her, eyes widening. "Good lord! Willow! You're bleeding!"

"Willow!" Hermione exclaimed. "You... you did it again!"

The red head waved Giles away. "It's no big," she replied, blinking hard and trying to smile down at her lover. "Just happens when I get all hyped up with the mojo and then can't do anything..."

Her words were belied when she swayed unsteadily, close to falling, and Giles quickly stood, steadying her with an arm around her waist. "We had better get you to Madam Pomfrey, Willow," he said seriously.

"No... no, I'm good..." she mumbled, before sinking against him. Giles swore under his breath, scooping the young witch up.

"And we...we should go and tell Albus," Anya said. She was pale and looked shaken. "I don't think that the man with the white hair wants Dawn for a good reason and Albus... he will know what to do...he always knows what to do."

"Yes..." Giles nodded. "Yes, that would be a good idea... can one of you bring Duncan along?"

"The kid? But he was the one who brought big bad and blond right to the room and got D to open the door!" Faith exclaimed in protest.

Supporting Duncan's head, her eyes on her girlfriend, Hermione shook her head. "I think he was under a spell, Faith," she said urgently. "We have to get him to the medical wing now!"

Nodding, although looking deeply sceptical, Faith lifted the boy up, his body limp and boneless in her arms. "Okay, people," she said, marching briskly forward. "You gonna fill me in on just why the hell B ain't here and how some freak with bad hair and a stick stole D?"

Somehow, in spite of the disbelief and shock, they managed to stir themselves to move, making their way through the corridors, ignoring all calls from the pupils about the condition of Professor Summers.

They reached the medical wing to find Dumbledore waiting there.

Waiting until Willow and Duncan had also been laid down in the wing, Madam Pomfrey fluttering about her, muttering rude things about people getting themselves hurt in the most ridiculous ways at the same time, Dumbledore stood to one side.

As the door closed, leaving Pomfrey to her patients and Hermione pacing anxiously just outside the door, the Head Master looked at Giles.

"He took her, didn't he?" The wizard's voice was resigned, as if he had somehow expected this all along.

"What are we gonna do?" Xander demanded. He was pacing impatiently. "I mean, we can't just let them keep Dawnie...we have to go and get her back...and if Buffy doesn't..." He trailed off with a vicious look at the door of the Ward.

"Xander!" Giles' voice was sharp and hard.

The boy glared at him.

"Look, white-haired guy is the bad guy, but what if he's right about creepy evil black-wearing guy?" he demanded hotly, his cheeks scarlet. "What if he isn't trying to save her?"

"Don't you DARE say such a thing about Severus!" Giles' voice rose to a roar.

All eyes went to him, stunned.

Only on very rare occasions was Giles ever angry and on those occasions, he still seldom raised his voice.

He looked wild with rage, his face darkening to a deep shade of red, his eyes blazing at Xander. His hands were systematically clenching into fists by his side and he looked like he really wanted to hit the boy and HARD.

"Now I know why B never pissed him off," Faith muttered, giving him an impressed look.

Stalking towards the startled young man, Giles looked so imposing and terrifying that the youth actually backed up until he collided with the wall behind him, the Watcher looming over him, his voice sinking to a low, dangerous snarl.

"That boy is a genius with potions and he saves anyone he can." One hand came up and silenced a protest Xander had opened his mouth to make. "No matter if he likes them or not. He only is the way he is because people like you treated him that way and he came to expect it, so he assumed the role people placed him in!"

"Wow..." Anya mumbled. She was standing alongside Dumbledore, holding the old wizard's arm. "I knew Giles liked the strange, lurking dark man, but I didn't know he liked him that much. He doesn't scare people like that unless he really likes someone and usually that someone is only Buffy."

Giles was still glaring down at Xander, who looked like he was feeling less than two inches tall.

"Yes, Anya, I like Severus," the older man said, his voice calming but still shaking with anger. "I like Severus very much. He is like a younger brother to me and I get very tired of stupid little arses like this...Muggle judging him."

"Hey!"

"Don't start, Xander. You can't possibly win this."

"But..."

Hermione interceded, squeezing between them and pressing a hand against Xander's chest. "Xander, Giles is right. Snape...he's frightening and intimidating, but he knows what he's doing. Buffy's in the best possible hands."

Xander looked like he wanted to argue, but Hermione shook her head, her eyes filled with tears of concern for her girlfriend. "I... I guess he's probably all right," he reluctantly said. "What about you?"

"Scared," Hermione admitted in a squeak and Xander gave her a half-smile, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Will'll be fine," he said. "She always is. Like Buffy."

"Has there been any word?" Giles swung around to Dumbledore, who shook his head sadly. "Oh..." The Watcher sighed. "I suppose we should leave him to get on with it. He'll let us know if anything happens."

"That is probably the wisest course of action," Dumbledore agreed heavily, patting Anya's hand when she made a sound that suggested she was about to burst into tears of hysteria. "We ought to go to my office and make arrangements..."

"Want for me to go and get Wes and Gunn?" Faith asked, shifting awkwardly. "I mean, they're gonna wanna know about this..."

"Yes..." Taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose, Giles nodded. "I-I think that would be a good idea, Faith. Be as quick as you can." The Slayer nodded and darted off. "Xander?"

"I'll come along, but I wanna get back to Cordy soon."

Dumbledore nodded. "I am most certainly against any procrastination, regarding the urgency of action. This meeting should only take a short while, then you will be free to return here at once."

"Will...will you give us some chocolate?" Anya asked plaintively, looking up at him, worried. "I think I need some."

"I think I may be able to provide that service, Miss Emerson." Arm-in-arm with the former Vengeance demon, Professor Dumbledore lead the sombre little out of the medical wing and towards his office.

***

"You big jerk!"

Standing on the opposite side of the bars, Lucius Malfoy smirked at his captive, his arms crossed over his chest. She was contained inside a cell in his cellar and she was gripping the bars angrily.

The walls around her were dull and spotted with mould here and there. There were no windows, the only light coming from a flaming torch which hung in a bracket on the wall behind him.

"Miss Summers, you must understand that I only brought you here for the good of...well." He paused with chuckle that sounded evil and humourless. "Of me, but I'm sure you understand."

"My sister is so gonna kick your ass! You hurt Duncan and Faith and she is gonna be so pissed when she gets you!"

"You think I was joking about her being in the medical wing, Miss Summers?" he laughed again, softly. Coldly. "I'm afraid that was no fabrication. We sent some pets to keep your sister busy and they just happened to excrete poison. Your sister is currently at the mercy of Professor Snape."

"He won't let her die..." Dawn whispered, more to convince herself, her voice rising with her growing anger. "She'll be fine and then she'll come and kick your ass!"

"You honestly believe that dear Severus, an old friend from my schooldays, is going to save your sister's life?" The man's lip curled, his face shadowed and even more frightening than it had been when she stepped out into the hall.

Dawn whimpered.

"You're lying..."

"I would do no such thing," Malfoy chuckled. "After all, the truth is so much more entertaining." He stepped back from the cell when Dawn released a wild scream, lashing out through the bars and almost striking him. "Such a temper..." he tutted seriously. "I hope you'll behave better when Glory arrives, although I doubt your behaviour will make a difference as you are really little more than an expendable bargaining chip."

"G-Glory?" Dawn shrank back.

"You know her, I believe. She had such an attachment to your sister...and the key your beloved sister stole."

Tears welled rapidly in Dawn's eyes. "Don't do this...please...she'll kill you...you don't know what she's like..."

Malfoy's smirked intensified.

"I beg to differ, infant," he murmured. "I know very well what she is like. On an intimate level."

Dawn's fear was momentarily replaced by disgust.

Surely he wasn't saying that he had...

His smirk spoke measures.

"EW!" she yelled, pointing at him, her face twisted in distaste. "Ew! You... her... EW! That is the most disgusting thing I've ever heard!" Malfoy's brow arched slightly as she flapped her hands, pulling a face. "Ewwww! You are so gross!"

"I would say that you ought to wait until you have experienced it, when you are older, but..." His smirk was replaced with a cold, deadly, snake-like smile. "You won't have a chance."

Dawn was staring at him.

"Buffy's gonna get you," she whispered. "She doesn't like it when people talk to me like that."

"What part of her dying in a short while do you simply not understand?" Malfoy sighed. He was starting to sound a little bored, as if the game was losing it's fun. "She is in Snape's hands and they loathe each other."

Dawn looked at him sharply.

"Wh-what?"

"She and Snape deplore each other."

A look of revelation crossed the girl's face and she nodded slowly. Turning, she blindly walked over to the low step that ran along the back wall to sit down on the cold stone, resting her hands on her knees.

"Yeah," she said, so quietly he could barely hear her. "They really hate each other."

However, when Malfoy turned to leave the dungeon, he could have sworn that the girl had a triumphant grin on her face.

***

"We have to assess how bad this situation is." Giles was standing at the head of the group, all eyes on him.

In Dumbledore's office, chairs had been conjured out of thin air for them, while they discussed what could be done, all of their group present. Hermione and Xander were sitting next to one another for reassurance, in the absence of their respective partners.

"They got D and B's in a coma," Faith growled, slapping the blade of a knife against her palm. "I'd say things are pretty damn bad, Giles."

The watcher gave her a half-reproving, half-understanding look. "Yes, we know that the fact they have captured Dawn is definitely not good," he agreed. "But we do not yet know if they are aware of her being the key."

"I don't think they do," Hermione volunteered quietly, raising her eyes from her folded hands, which were squeezed between her knees. "They only knew Buffy was protecting it. How would they find out it was her?"

"That's a good point," Xander agreed. "I mean, we didn't know until Buffy did that spelly thing and we got those books from that magic-shop place."

"Books? What books are these?" Wesley sat up in his seat, a concerned expression on his face. He had managed to escape the clutches of Flitwick and was back in his more comfortable shirt and trousers combination.

"I-I'm not sure who wrote them, but they told us what Dawnie was and where she came from," Xander said. "But I think...what happened to them?"

Spike raised a hand. "Taken care of," he replied, from the shadows, where he was leaning against the wall. "Thought I'd protect Nibbles' best interests and accidentally dropped a fag on them. They sorta got a bit... burnt."

A weary half-smile crossed Giles' face. "Thank you, Spike. Those books could have proved a great problem."

"S'nothing," Spike shrugged, returning the half-smile as he lit up a cigarette, gripping it between black-nail-polished fingers. "An occasional bit of vandalism and destruction of property is always fun."

"So with the books gone, they won't find out about her from them," Hermione said with a sigh of relief. "Is there any other way they would be able to tell that Dawnie was the key?"

"Insane people can see her for what she really is," Giles replied grimly, removing his glasses and polishing them. "Which means if Glory is running low on power when she sees Dawn, she may well recognise her."

"What are the chances of this happenin'?" Gunn asked. "And if she does recognise the kid, will she do the blood-lettin' thing right away?"

Rubbing his temples with thumb and index finger of his right hand, his glasses dangling from his fingers, Giles frowned. "There's every chance that she will be recognised, but I doubt they would do the blood-letting immediately. Blood-letting rituals tend to be based a good deal on the alignment of the stars."

"The guy in the weapon store told us when the knife thing was gonna be needed!" Faith exclaimed. "We got until late in May or early in June, cause that's when the ritual was meant to be."

"That's definitely very reassuring," Hermione said, rubbing her hands together and nodding. "And if I'm to make a wild guess, I would say that Malfoy would have taken her to his home."

"Which is?" Faith demanded.

"Er..."

"Masked?" Giles asked.

"More than likely, as well as unplottable," she acknowledged.

Faith looked from one to the other. "Well this is just five by five," she muttered darkly. "I'm sittin' here, lookin' to beat the hell outta a guy for takin' my little sister and you guys don't know where his house is."

The cold, sinister smile that spread on Giles face was actually frightening. "No, we don't yet," he agreed, standing up. "But give us time and we will find that house and that arrogant bastard and then, I'm certain we can arrange who gets to beat the living hell out of him first."

"You don't like the guy, huh?" Gunn said.

"Astute observation," Wesley rolled his eyes.

Giles' expression was ice-cold and hard. "You could look at it that way," he replied quietly. "Let me just say that I've had a rather violent dislike of him for the last thirty-five years."

"Geez," Xander said. "When you hold a grudge... why a grudge? What did he do?"

"That isn't important at the moment," Giles replied, then looked at Wesley. "Wesley, would you be willing to aid me with some research?" The younger watcher was on his feet immediately. "Spike?"

"If it means getting the bit back, you know you don't have to ask."

"I'll help too!" Anya said immediately. "I'll ask Albus if he has any ideas as well."

"I'm gonna go train," Faith said, on her feet, hands on her hips. "I wanna be in prime shape to kick some big bad blondie ass. And I'm guessin' that Gunn's with me?"

Charles Gunn shrugged. "If you need some help, sure."

"What about you two? What will you be doing?" Giles looked down at Hermione and Xander, who gave him identical looks. "And I suppose that really was an awfully stupid question, wasn't it?"

Xander half-grinned, although it lacked enthusiasm. "You know where we'll be."

***

"Willow?"

Green eyes opened, squinting slightly by the light of the small lamp on the cabinet beside the bed. "Hey, sweetie," Willow's lips moved weakly to form a smile, which was replaced with a wince, one hand coming to her head.

Leaning forward, sitting on the edge of the bed, Hermione replaced Willow's fingers with her own, massaging the red head's temples. "Are you all right?" she asked, concern marked on her face.

"Yeah... yeah, gettin' there. A bit dizzy, though."

"Still?"

Willow closed her eyes, sighing as Hermione continued to gently move her fingers in light circles. "I was so mad at that guy," she replied wearily. "I could feel the power building to blast him to weeny pieces and then, he was gone and the power... it didn't have anywhere to go... I had to let it stay in me..."

"And instead of hurting him, it hurt you?"

The red head dipped her chin in assent.

"Oh, Willow," Hermione sighed, dipping her head and brushing her brow against her lover's. "What are we going to do with you?"

"Kiss it better?" Willow suggested hopefully, a little more energy in her voice.

The brown-haired witch couldn't withhold a laugh. "You're practically unconscious from dizziness after channelling far too much powerful magic and yet, you're still able to claim the right of kissing."

"And?" Willow jutted out her lower lip, widening her eyes. "Smoochies?"

"You really are dreadful, Willow," Hermione shook her head, smiling, then touched her lips lightly against Willow's. The red head murmured in acknowledgement, a hand sliding into Hermione's hair, deepening the kiss.

The kiss was only broken when Willow's head rocked to one side, a sigh slipping past her lips, and Hermione drew back to see a serene look on the red head's face, her eyes closed peacefully in sleep.

Brushing strands of silky hair back from Willow's flushed cheeks, the other witch smiled. "You get some rest," she said softly, shifting on the bed to sit beside her lover and arranging Willow's head against her shoulder.

Murmuring comfortably, Willow snuggled against her girlfriend, flinging one arm possessively around Hermione's waist, rubbing a cheek against Hermione's shoulder through her dark robes.

A hand stroked through the younger witch's red hair. "I love you, Willow Weasley," Hermione whispered, pressing a kiss to Willow's forehead.

***

"Did I mention how much I hate the PTB?"

"A few times," Cordelia smiled faintly at him, her hand rising to touch her temple, where a scab was healing up nicely. "I gotta say than I'm not exactly on the best of terms with 'em myself."

Xander sat down beside her on the bed, the blanket rumpled over her legs. Taking her hands in his, he studied her seriously. "Is there any way you could get rid of the vision thing?" he asked.

"I-I don't know if I would want to," she said hesitantly. "I mean, they hurt and they can be really gross sometimes, but they're part of who I am. They give me a reason to do what I do."

Xander tilted his head, gazing at her.

"What?"

One side of his mouth lifted slightly, but he didn't reply.

"Xander!" she exclaimed, slapping at his leg. "What is it? Do I have something on my nose?"

"Nothing like that." he answered, squeezing her fingertips. "I'm just thinking how amazing you are." Cordelia blushed prettily, a broad smile splitting her face. "I mean, you've changed so much... you know stuff. You're brave, gorgeous, smart..."

"Blushing like crazy?" she offered, beaming at him.

"That too," he laughed, raising one hand to stroke some loose strands of long dark hair back from her cheek. "Kinda obvious who the special person in this relationship is, isn't it?"

"Don't start that," she cautioned, raising a finger to point at him. "You are pretty special yourself, Xander Harris. Dorky and a bad dresser, but still damn special and you're normal. You're not like the other weird things I've had to work with."

Xander gave her a lop-sided grin. "You're talking to the guy who liked a preying mantis, a mummy, a witch, three Slayers, an ex-demon and is now happily involved for the rest of his life with a Seer."

"F-for the rest of your life?"

"Or as long as you can put up with me," he shrugged with a self-depreciating smile. "Personally, I like the forever deal. I lost you once and I'm not gonna be stupid enough to do it again."

Cordelia leaned forwards on the bed and wrapped her arms around him and Xander smiled against the top of her head, as he embraced her.

***

"You have a visitor, Mister Cameron."

Lying on his back on the curtained-off bed, Duncan stared blindly up at the ceiling, his eyes prickling. He didn't even acknowledge the Medi-witch or the other figure at the drapes until the bed shifted and he tilted his head.

"You all right?" Swallowing hard, his throat tight, Duncan shook his head stiffly from side to side. Spike gave him a knowing look. "Need a shoulder?"

He didn't have a chance to answer before unwanted tears spilled from his eyes and the vampire sighed, letting the boy break into short, sharp sobs against his shoulder, patting his reassuringly on the back, letting him get it out of his system.

"It wasn't your fault, Dunc," he said, as the boy's sob quieted and he looked down at his blanket, embarrassment and misery etched in equal measures on his flushed face.

"It was," Duncan replied hoarsely, his voice cracking. "I-I lead that manky bastard right tae her room! I did that and ye cannae say that it wasnae my fault that he got in there! I-I tried no' tae say anythin', but he tol' me to and I couldnae stop meself!"

Spike nodded. "I'll agree with that," he said. "You lead him there, said what he told you, but you didn't do it yourself, did you? He put a spell on you that even the strongest people have trouble fighting."

"I-I didnae want tae, Spike," the boy whispered hopelessly. "I tried not tae dae what he was tellin' me, but I couldnae help it... and now, he's got Dawnie and she could be dead an' it's all mah fault!"

Blue eyes met blue. "Dunc," Spike repeated. "What part of this are you not getting? It wasn't your fault. The only person to blame for this is that bloody ponce who put the spell on you, nicked her and left the Slayer in a coma."

"Slayer? Professor Summers?" Duncan's head snapped up. "What happened?"

"Demons," Spike said without elaboration. "He set it up. He had it all planned and you just happened to be there at the wrong place and time."

"Is... will she be all right?"

Spike's eyes darted towards the curtains, beyond which a silencing charm was still enclosing the main part of the wing. "She'll be fine," he said decisively. "The Slayer always is and she's been through some bloody awful things. I should know, since I caused a hell of a lot of 'em."

"And Dawnie...?"

This time, the vampire's smile was cold and certain. "We're getting her back," he said, a feral golden gleam in his blue eyes. "No one takes the Niblet without getting a hell of a lot of people pissed off. Giles and Mini-Giles are working on a way to find them and then, we're going to collectively kick the sorry bastard's arse."

Sniffing and swallowing hard, Duncan's eyes flashed. "Can I help?"

The vampire grinned. "I knew that there was a reason I liked you, Dunc," he said, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "And yes, although I think you're gonna have to form an orderly queue behind Giles, Slayer, Slayer two and pretty much everyone else in our merry band."

Duncan nodded. "I can wait."

***

Snape was exhausted.

His eyes were dry and blood-shot, his head throbbing from the fumes of the antidote he had spent ten hours simmering after eight hours of trying to find out just what the poison was, his body aching from being bent over the cauldron for so long.

It would be so easy to go to sleep now.

After all, Professor Summers had been dosed with the potion and she had come out of the toxin-induced coma she had been in for a day and a half, to fall into a deep cleansing sleep.

Snape was sure that, had she not been blessed with the healing abilities of the Slayer, she would have been dead within hours, her strength keeping her with them long enough for a cure to be found.

It was nearly thirty-six hours to the minute since she had come under attack and the Potions Master hadn't slept a moment since then, keeping both eyes on her as often as he could spare them.

Now, with the early morning chill in the air, the slice of moonlight cutting through the window and across the ward to cast strange light over them, he was starting to feel the prickles of exhaustion.

Sitting beside her bed, the silencing charm still on the ward, his elbows propped up on his knees, his chin and lips were pressed against his interlocked hands. His eyes were fixed on the girl asleep in the bed in front of him, a gold glow of a lantern on the cabinet beside the bed, mingling oddly with the cold moonlight on her face.

He studied her pale face, which was almost as white as the pillow she was lying on, her blonde hair fanning around her, only the barest of rosy patches on her cheeks indicating that she was still alive.

The wounds inflicted by the Hell beasts on her had healed completely and her face was no longer swollen, but she still looked so very small and fragile, the crisp sheets and thick blankets tucked tightly across her chest.

Her chest was rising and falling steadily with light breaths, her lips parted a little. He almost smiled, because when she breathed in her sleep, she made the oddest little squeak of a snore.

One hand came out, but he hesitated, his fingertips a millimetre from contact with the soft skin of her cheek. Tracing the outline of her face, not quite touching her, he released a sigh, his eyes so heavy.

Pulling his chair a little closer to the bed, he raised his right arm to prop his elbow on the mattress, his right cheek leaning heavily on the upraised hand as he continued to watch her for any sign of waking.

When he closed his eyes, he was so sure it would just be for a moment.

Something brushed against his head, making him stir, his eyes squinting in the morning sunlight that was flooding the ward and he lifted his head, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.

He had fallen asleep, when he had intended to keep watch over her until she woke.

Which brought back to him the fact that something had touched him...

And the only thing anywhere near the place where his head had been lying - he could see the indented spot in the thick blankets - was the hand of the slim waif of a girl in the bed.

"Summers?" All thoughts of sleep and weariness were shaken off instantly and he stood up quickly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, lifting her hand between both of his. "Summers, if you're faking, so help me..."

A breathy sigh escaped her pale lips, which seemed to have regained a little of their former colour when he had been sleeping, and he felt like a giant hand was crushing his heart.

It seemed like an eternity before her lids fluttered weakly.

"Yes, Summers, you lazy hussy. Open your eyes," he whispered, hoping and praying that he had got the antidote exactly right. After all, he had tested it on himself, as soon as it was ready and it seemed to have worked. He almost chuckled at a thought that slipped into his mind: if Pomfrey had known he had injected himself with some of the poison from the beast, in order to make sure his potions worked, he knew she would have gutted him. "You have been sleeping quite long enough, you indolent excuse for a Professor."

Slowly, painfully slowly, Summers' hazel eyes opened, squinting uncomfortably in the bright light washing into the huge room through the enormous windows that lined the opposite wall.

"Snapey..." Her voice was rasping and dry, but he wanted to sing with relief. She was alive! She was conscious! She hadn't sprouted another head! "You... made that up... indo-thingie..."

Releasing her hand, he reached over and grasped the goblet of water - with some kind of energy potion that Pomfrey liked - in it.

"Here, Summers." He gently helped her to sit up, his arm around her shoulders to support her, raising the goblet to her dry lips. "Drink this."

She took a slow sip, then coughed.

"What is that?" she breathed. "Cat pee?"

"It'll help, you impertinent little minx," he answered, trying not to smile. Her lips curled up slightly and she started to sip the fluid with appropriate sounds of distaste until she finished it.

Letting her lie back down, he replaced the goblet on the cabinet, lifting her small hand between his rough, calloused ones. "Summers." Her hazel eyes - half-closed - moved to him. "Don't you ever consider scaring me like that again."

"Scaring you?" she laughed weakly. "Snapey, that was everyday-Buffy-world...no stopping it just cos the Moody-guy says so."

She stared at him in bewilderment when he lifted her right hand up to his face, pressing his cheek against her palm, enclosing her hand between his face and hand, his skin cool and dry.

His black eyes were closed, pressed tight as if he were in pain, his breath warm against her bare wrist and for some reason, it was sending funny tingles through her.

"I was almost certain we had lost you," his voice was a whisper, but not the one she was familiar with. This whisper was shaking with emotion. "Had it taken even a few moments longer, it would have been too late..."

Buffy blinked at him, looking so blonde, so confused and so downright American that he wanted to laugh. "Huh?"

A brush of a kiss was touched to the inside of her wrist and the Slayer gasped at the light contact.

"You really are quite something, Summers," Snape murmured, leaning forward to gaze at her. His lips brushed against hers in the barest hint of a caress. She shivered a little, not quite sure what to make of this.

"Huh?"

There was a husky chuckle and then, his lips met hers for a few seconds longer, like silk against hers. It wasn't the kind of kiss that she was used to from Snapey, but OH MY GOD!

One hand braced him on the mattress, the other cupping her face as the gentle, soft kisses were plied to every millimetre of her dry lips, Buffy's eyes sinking closed. It felt like she was melting.

She had to be melting.

Gooey heap...

Trembling from head-to-toe.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod...

Sensually teasing her lips, he drew back as soon as she raised her hand to try and draw him to her. The genuine, barely visible smile she saw on his face made her gape at him mutely, stretching out a hand to him.

"I'm not certain what it is yet," he rose to his feet, his fingertips lingering briefly against hers, "but you are definitely something," Several paces from the bed, he studied her. "I shall inform your friends that you are well enough to see them."

"Snapey!" Her voice came out in even more of a pathetic squeak than she expected.

"Summers?" He pivoted without seeming to move his feet, which really was an impressive-looking trick, his eyes hooded again, although the smirk on his lips was more smiley than smirky.

Unable to think of anything coherent to say, she lifted one hand and politely stuck her middle finger up at him.

"And I can wholeheartedly reciprocate, Summers," he chuckled softly, then swept out of sight around the drapes, leaving the confused Slayer to try and work out just what had happened.