The Eighth Weasley

The Eighth Weasley

Chapter Fifty-Seven - It's A Little Bit Funny

Notes: First, I have to apologise for not updating this sooner. It's not that I didn't want to, but - alas - real life got in the way. I finished uni (Go me!) and had a load of friends visiting which seriously cut into my time, so no fic was created then. And, once they were all gone, I had to move house (again), which was - of course - huge amounts of fun. Really.

This also meant getting all my stuff back to le lovely family home, where my own computer is still curently lying in bits and has been for several weeks *pets it* And now, I'm in sunny Swedland for the summer, which is also keeping me busy, since I be working for my keep (full time) :)

And I, moron that I am, forgot to print out the plans for the next 19 chapters before taking my baby apart, hence a little difficulty in getting anything written. Still, here it is now, in all its glory :D Can't guarantee it'll be any good, but that's what I say about all my fics, so enjoy!

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The first thing that crept into Buffy's awareness as she started to wake was the fact that she was definitely warm and comfortable, although the bed she was lying on felt a little harder than her own.

And there was something large and warm under her cheek, rising and falling with a steady rhythm. That same large, warm something was a something which her whole body seemed to be comfortably pressed against.

Wiggy.

Unwillingly dragging herself from sleep, the Slayer yawned and forced her eyes to open, to face the day... which appeared a lot darker than she remembered day being, greeted with a faceful of fabric, beyond which she could see dark wall that bore no resemblance to anything in her rooms, illuminated only by the dim glow of a fire flickering in a grate.

Uberwiggy.

Shifting slightly, trying to get her bearings, she sniffed the air. A tang of chemicals and spices flooded her nostrils, almost making her sneeze, her eyes widening in sudden understanding and recollection of what had happened the night before.

Snapey!

He had found her sitting outside, lectured her about getting cold, had taken her to his rooms, gave her some weird potion and then... then, she remembered things getting kinda fuzzy around the edges and feeling way too sleepy.

One small hand tentatively palpated the fabric-covered mass that her head was resting on and she found the unmistakeable throb of a heartbeat, steady and even. As even as the breathing.

Oh... kay...

She was in a bed with Snapey.

Not moving further, in case she woke him up and he was even crankier than usual, Buffy assessed her position, wondering if he'd done the putting-to-bed or if she had somehow managed to get herself there.

Right...

He was on his back and his arms seemed to be by his sides. He was perfectly still and seemed to be dead to the world. Or, at least, he hadn't given any sign that he was anything but asleep, but - Buffy grinned slightly - knowing Snapey, he could well be bluffing to make her go away.

Or stay.

With Snapey, it could be either depending on his mood.

Okay. His arms weren't anywhere near her, which kinda suggested she had been the one who did the putting-to-bed. Something which only became embarrassingly clearer when she realised her arms were securely wrapped around him.

Both of them.

Tightly.

She could feel heat rising in her cheeks, loosening her grip, suddenly painfully aware of why he hadn't touched her or climbed from the bed: for fear of getting both his arms and possibly his neck broken by Slayer strength, he had played the proverbial ragdoll and just let her do what she liked.

Oh God...

Poor Snapey.

"Thank you." His voice nearly made her leap out of her skin.

Jerking up into a half-sitting, half-kneeling position with a squeal of fright, her left leg - folded beneath her body - pressing against his left hip and side, blankets pooled about her, Buffy smacked him on the chest.

"Snapey! Don't do that!" she exclaimed indignantly, more than aware of the smirk that curled up one side of his lips. Still, she didn't pull away, scramble from the warm bed or even consider either of those two options. "You jerk! You scared me!"

"And you dragged me into bed with you last night, giving me no choice of my own, so that suggests that we are even," the dry reply fell from those smirking lips, his half-closed eyes glittering at her.

Buffy uttered a squeak of embarrassment, clapping a hand over her mouth, her other hand still resting on his chest where she had struck him. "Oh God..."

"I do prefer Severus, you know, but I suppose God is an improvement on Snapey."

She slapped his chest again, a broad grin breaking behind her hand. "Stop that!"

"What?"

"Making with the funnies," she retorted, trying desperately to glare at him, failing miserably. "They're so not you. You're meant to be the mean, loomy, sneery guy. You do know it freaks people when you make with the funnies, right? They think you got hit on the head or something."

A dark brow arched. "And I suppose they are your forte?"

"My forty what?"

Much to her surprise, he chuckled: a soft, genuinely amused sound, nothing like his usual sarcastic chuckle that always sounded kinda evil.

"I will be a gentleman and blame the after effects of that potion for your lack of intelligence for once," he said, leaning up slightly on his arm. His right hand crossed his body, running lightly through her hair, Buffy's eyes going round as saucers.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"I am liberating a feather from your hair, Summers," he replied, smirking and withdrawing his hand, a feather between his fingertips. "It looked rather ridiculous. Even more so than those garish items you so erroneously term as clothing."

Buffy looked indignant. "Hey! I like my clothes!"

"Summers, I truly despair in you."

"Says Mister I-live-in-the-batcape."

The glitter returned to his eyes as his right hand slid behind his head on the pillow and he gazed at her. "In my defence," he observed. "I do not make it a habit to wear my underpants on top of my clothing."

Buffy blinked at the mental image that provided. "Uh..."

"Ah, I see." There was a smug note in his voice. "You did not believe me capable of being remotely aware of popular muggle culture."

"Uh, not really, no," she readily admitted, still trying to force aside the image of Snape in a Batman costume. Terrifying didn't even come close to that. "You really like creeping me out with the weird visual places, don't you?"

Snape simply smirked more.

"Jerk."

"Yes, we had established that I am one of those, although I do not see how it is possible for me to be a mode of pulling, but I digress," He yawned. "Do you intend to babble at me for what is left of the night or will you allow me to get some sleep?"

"Aww, is the poor Snapey tired?"

A brow lifted. "Summers, do bear in mind that you have been throttling me for the last six hours at least. That rarely provides someone with an opportunity for restful sleep, so if you do not mind..."

"You want for me to leave?" she offered, blushing a little.

Snape's shoulders lifted marginally. "That is entirely up to you," he replied, closing his eyes. "You know where the door is, where your own chambers are and I am certain that even you would not be afraid to encounter the Bloody Baron at five o'clock in the morning."

"Uh..."

One eye opened a crack and a genuine smile played about one side of his lips. "If you feel it is necessary to stay, however, as long as you do not try to strangle me again, I am sure there is sufficient room in this bed for two."

Buffy stared at him for a long moment. "Are you feeling all right, Snapey? You want me to stay?"

"It is entirely your decision, Summers. After all, we have been here for hours already and nothing untoward has happened and you have slept in this bed once before, so I do not see why you would make such a fuss about it." he replied aloofly, closing his eyes again. "As for me, I intend to get some sleep, so if you would not mind."

That said, his breathing seemed to even out and he almost seemed to fall asleep instantly, leaving the Slayer sitting, staring at him in confusion.

"I slept in this bed before? Huh?" Part of her wanted to shake the man awake and demand what he had meant, but the other part was yawning and grumbling that the room wasn't getting any warmer and the blankets pooled about her sure looked cosy.

Chewing on her lip, smothering a yawn, she tugged the blankets back up and lay down beside him, shivering at the chill of the room, making certain that she didn't breach his personal space.

At least, not until she felt a lean arm, garbed in fabric thicker than her own pyjamas, slide about shoulders, drawing her to rest against a narrow chest, the fabric and flesh warm to her touch.

"You have been curled against me all night, Summers," the voice was soft, like a ripple of silk against her skin, causing an uncalled for shiver to run the length of her spine. "Why change that now?"

"Snapey, I thought you..."

"Sh," A gentle hand framed her face in the dark and she felt him shift, lips brushing briefly over hers to silence her. "I am asleep." The hand spread lightly on her back, warm through the blankets. "And so should you be."

"But..."

"Sleeping, Summers, and not hearing a word you're saying."

Buffy's lips twitched up as she let her head rest on his thin shoulder. "Cranky jerk."

"I did not hear that."

"I know, I know. Sleeping."

She could hear the smirk in Snape's voice. "Precisely."

***

Clad in her husband's expensive concealment cloak, the even more exclusive version of an invisibility cloak, Narcissa edged forwards as silently as she could. Having made her way through the dark halls of the Manor, unnoticed, she was not about to make an error in overconfidence to lead to her discovery.

As usual, her beloved husband and his darling harlot had been busying themselves with the arrangement for the complex dark magic spells that were required to breach the intensely powerful charms protecting Hogwarts.

Most often, they worked deep into the evening, then would argue and rage at one another for hours, before ending up in Lucius' bed chamber, where the cries would only grow ever more potent.

She had heard them storming down the halls, past her own room, where she was faking sleep, only half an hour earlier, which meant they were no doubt still partaking of their choice of... entertainment in her husband's bed.

While it still caused a pang of hurt to strike beneath her breast, it also gave her the chance she needed to find what she was looking for in their absence from the massive drawing room.

In the past few days, she had been confined to the library and only now, when they were gone, could she access the files they had been working on, knowing that they trusted her sufficiently to leave the papers unguarded.

Cloud-licked moonlight cracked through the heavy, dark drapes which hung around the windows, tracing an intricate, inimitable pattern upon the wooden panels of the floor and the carpets.

Her feet bare, Narcissa crept forward, silent upon the wood, as she approached the desk, the only sounds the faint whisper of the concealment cloak as it touched upon the surface of the floor beneath.

Her heart was racing as she neared the desk, the heap of tidily organised papers speaking measures of Lucius' fastidious nature, each one carefully marked and placed in a specific order.

This, she knew, was one of the occasions when Lucius' obsessively organised nature would prove useful, his need to have documents close at hand, near his work space one of his weaknesses.

Easing around the desk, she glanced around the dim room, the only light that of the moon's gentle gleam, which was more than sufficient for her purposes. No one was visible and she exhaled, her hands reaching out for the papers, searching rapidly through them for any suggestions of further plans.

In the shadows of the room, though, hidden from Narcissa's sight amid the heavy drapes and dark hangings, a pair of bright eyes glittered - unseen - beneath the hood of a shabby robe.

And, equally unseen, scabbed lips twisted into a malicious smile.

***

Smoothing her pyjamas down self-consciously, Buffy eased out of Snape's bed, a flush rising up her face as she realised exactly what she had just done: she had just spent the night with old Cranky himself.

And she'd liked it.

That was the weird part.

Everyone around her still seemed to assume that she and the dark-haired wizard still despised each other, which really couldn't be further from the truth, although how she was going to explain her absence to her sister, she didn't know.

Glancing at the clock, she couldn't help raising her brows at it.

While most clocks would have three, the single hand formed the word 'content' in elaborate, though slightly tarnished gold lettering which shone faintly against the dark face of the clock, upon which words were visible.

Moving a little closer, she squinted at the lettering behind the hand. It announced in untidy, curly writing that it was 'well past time to get up, you lazy so and so', drawing a faint chuckle from the Slayer.

"You find something amusing, Summers?"

Glancing back at the bed, where she had assumed that Snapey was still asleep, the faint light from the low-burning fire highlighting his features, Buffy's arms crossed over her chest a little shyly. "It's a weird clock," she offered.

"In what way?"

"Why does it only have one hand?"

Snapey leaned up on one arm, glancing past her at the clock. A faint line appeared between his brows as he glanced at the hand, but it faded at once at her curious look and he sat up fully, shrugging. "No others are necessary. The clock tells me all that I need to know."

"And now it's telling you that you should be up?"

Nodding curtly, he pushed himself out of the bed. "So it would seem," he replied in a casual tone. "Although I do believe we have a minor problem."

"Oh?" Turning to face him fully, Buffy felt her heart sink.

Snapey approached her, his attention focused upon the face of the clock. "Well, it appears that we are both somewhat late to breakfast," he replied, "and it would not be seemly for the Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts to be seen, running about the school in her nightwear."

Buffy's blush returned full force. "Oh crap..." she mumbled. "Do you have any way I could get back to my room with no one seeing?"

A dark brow arched. "Summers, as you seem to have appropriately forgotten, I'm a wizard. If you require them, I can provide you with your own clothing. That is," An almost mischievous twinkle glimmered in his eyes. "Unless you would prefer to wander into the Great Hall as you presently are."

"Smart ass," She pulled a face at him.

"I do try," Snapey smirked at her. "I trust that means you will require your clothing of choice?"

"Duh!"

The dark brow lifted once more. "In English, Summers?"

"That was English, doofus," Buffy gave him a mock-glare, which he responded to with a derisive curl of his lip. "Fine! Oh Snapey, you wonderfully magical wizard, can you get me my clothes?"

"And the magic word is?"

"How am I meant to know? You're the wizard."

Snapey shook his head mournfully. "Alas, Summers, in a world where manners have been forgotten, I thought that even an American such as yourself would know the significance of the word 'please'."

Once more, Buffy's face turned scarlet. "Oh," she said sheepishly.

One of Snapey's hands rose, pausing less than a centimetre from her skin, so close she could feel the faint warmth of his palm, her heart leaping, wondering if the heat rushing through her was because he was almost touching or because he wasn't.

"Once more," he said softly, his dark eyes holding hers. How she had ever thought his eyes were cold and sinister, she didn't know. Dark, yes, but there was a glimmer in them, intelligence and a sharpness she had only ever seen in Giles or Spike on a good day. "I will ignore this lapse in manners and trust that you are still in the process of waking up."

His thumb brushed along her cheekbone, down, breathtakingly close to her lip, then his hand dropped away.

"Uh..."

"How eloquent you are," he chuckled, stepping away from her. "If you wish to refresh yourself, there is a bathing chamber through the door beside the desk."

"Door?" Buffy squinted at the solid wall, grateful for a reason to look away from the man before her. A hand at the base of her back gently steered her towards the wall and a door seemed to merge out of the dark. "Oh! Right!"

Trying desperately to ignore Snapey's amused silky chuckle, her face flaming, Buffy grabbed the handle and fled through into the bathroom, which - unlike Snapey's bedroom - was almost sterile in its whiteness.

Before her, a deep, white metal bath with large, clawed feet was tapping its toes, as if bored. A sink stood to her left, toilet to the right, plain white towels hanging on an equally plain rail on the wall beside the sink.

Hurrying to the sink, she turned on the tap, dashing cold water on her hot face, raising her eyes to the mirror above it.

"Good God! A woman!" the mirror yelled in a deep baritone that sounded hoarse, as if it had not been used for a long time.

Leaping back a pace in surprise, Buffy blinked. "Uh... yeah?"

"You! A woman!" the mirror's voice rose in panicked intensity, until it was little more than a howl of dismay. "Here! In Severus' bathroom! SEVERUS! SEVERUS WE'VE BEEN INVADED!"

"Do shut up, you wretched thing!" Snapey's voice called through the door, sounding both amused and a little irritated. "She's a guest."

"A... guest?" There was a long silence, as if the mirror was trying to process this rather shocking piece of information. "Well... er... would you like me to be honest or do you prefer me to lie about how dreadful you look?"

Buffy could feel the heat rising in her face once more. "Um... can you maybe... y'know... not look?"

"Don't worry!" the mirror said eagerly. "You've got nothing I haven't seen bef... oh, wait!" There was an oddly embarrassed note in the voice. "I haven't seen anything like that before! Pardon me. I'll be quiet now."

Hastily washing and drying herself, Buffy pulled on her vest again. She could hear Snapey moving about on the other side of the door and looked around quickly for a brush of some kind. She was amused to notice that her threats about his hair hadn't been in vain, shampoo standing in top of a low cupboard beside the mirror.

Reaching for the cupboard door, to see if there was any kind of a brush, she paused when the door rattled. "O... kay..." Grasping the metal knob, she pulled the door open, stumbling back in surprise when a figure seemed to spill out, straightening up.

Someone very familiar.

"Glory!"

"You got me, toots," The Hell Goddess shook golden curls back from her face. "And kinda looks like I got you again, all on your lonesome as usual, huh? Bet your friends don't even care that you're missing."

"Like you would know anything about them," Buffy snarled, her heart racing, wondering how Glory had managed to bust into the castle. "Get out of here, before I kick your ass out!"

"You and what army?" Glory smirked, folding her arms and arching an eyebrow. "In case you forgot, chickpea, last time I fought you, I kicked your bony little hinny without even breaking a sweat. You think you can take me on your own?"

"If I need them, my friends will help me," the Slayer hissed.

"You wanna get 'em hurt, baby?" the woman said derisively. "You know if they come here I'm just gonna make 'em suffer, just to watch you wriggle and squirm like an itty bitty worm on a hook."

"They don't know you're here," Buffy felt unease rising in her, looking around wildly for a weapon of some kind, any kind. Glory would NOT hurt her friends! Glory would not do anything to them!

"You bet they do. Old Dumble guy could feel me showing up. Bet they're gonna come crashin' in here any second and try and save you. Gonna enjoy watching me pop their heads like grapes, babe?"

"You won't lay a finger on them!" Buffy shouted, lunging forward and swinging a fist towards Glory's face. It was caught in a vicelike grip, twisted harmlessly aside, the Hell Goddess smirking.

"Wanna bet?" Glory sneered, one hand around Buffy's fist, contracting agonisingly and sending the Slayer to her knees. "You think they're ever gonna be enough to keep helpin' you? That's what it comes down to, sweets. You're nothing without them, but it's always you to blame for everything that happens around them. All the crap they go through comes from you. You're the Slayer, you're the chosen one. You're alone, babe. That's the way it's always been. That's the way it's gonna be, when they're all dead, because of you."

"They won't!"

"Wanna bet, blondie? Haven't you noticed something? Everyone close to you gets hurt, because of you. Because of who you are," the Hell Goddess was laughing as she spoke, Buffy shaking her head wildly. "You're the reason they get hurt. You're the reason they're gonna be dead when I go home. They're all gonna be hurt because of you. They're all gonna die because of you, because you just have to surround yourself with 'em. You'll never be able to keep anyone. Look at Angel. Look at Kendra. Look at your friends. You're the reason they've been hurt so many times! You think you can protect them? You're nothing, Slayer! You can't even fight me! Even that creepy Snape guy. I'm gonna suck 'em all dry and leave 'em to rot."

"SHUT UP!" Buffy screamed, lashing out with her other fist in a savage blow that made Glory stagger back a step, releasing her hold on Buffy's hand. The Slayer was on her feet in an instant. "You won't lay a finger on them, you bitch! I'll never let you touch them!"

Vaguely, amid Glory's ringing laughter, Buffy registered the door of the bathroom swing open and jerked around to see Snapey standing there, expression thunderous, wand raised in his hand.

Immediately, Glory seemed to blink out of existence, Buffy falling back against the side of the bathtub, panting hard, staring in shock at the object, which had appeared on the bathroom floor.

Her.

Lying very still, expression peaceful, the girl on the floor was unmistakably her.

Shaking, she lifted her head to look at Snapey, whose expression was inscrutable as he raised his wand and in a voice more commanding than she had ever heard, yelled out, "Riddikulus!"

There was a crack, like that of a pistol being fired and the sleeping Buffy vanished in a puff of smoke, Snape whirling around to her.

"Summers," Kneeling before her in a heartbeat, where she had sunk to sit on the lip of the bathtub, he captured her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him and meet his gaze. "Summers, are you all right?"

Still shaking, Buffy lunged forward, her arms wrapping around his neck, her face burying in his shoulder, her breathing painfully ragged. "I-I thought it was her," she whispered, her voice quavering. "She-she was saying she was gonna hurt everyone... and it would be my fault... because of who I am..."

"Sh, Summers, there's nothing to fear," Although not as tight as her grip, his arms were about her body, one hand spread upon her back and gently stroking from shoulder to the base of her spine as he continued to murmur softly. "It was a boggart, Summers, nothing more."

"But it..."

"It shows your greatest fears, Summers, it plays on them," his voice was low, soft, reassuring in her ear, her fingers gripping into the back of the fabric of the robes he had donned. "It was nothing more than an image of your fears. Pay it no heed."

"But it was so right," she half-sobbed. "It said people I care for get hurt because of me... they do..."

"And people are also saved because of you, Summers," Snape continued to stroke her back gently with the tips of his fingers. "You are not the cause of the hurt. It is not your fault. It only proves that you are stronger than it." Sitting back a little, he turned her face to his with the tip of one finger. "Do not heed its words, Summers. Boggarts thrive on fear and to show you what you fear most causes this reaction. It was nothing more than an image. Do not heed it."

Nodding, Buffy raised a small, shaking hand to scrub at her eyes. "I-I was just kinda freaked out," she said, lowering her head.

"Which is nothing to be ashamed of," he said, a note of reassuring warmth in his voice. "Stronger people than you have been brought to their knees by the malign influence of boggarts."

Lifting her eyes to him, she hesitantly asked, "Why did it turn into me, asleep?"

A strange expression filtered across Snapey's features, one hand lifting to stroke the last tears from her cheek with the rough pad of his thumb.

"You do recall that you almost throttled me in my sleep last night, do you not?" he said after a moment of contemplative silence, during which Buffy was sure she could hear him trying to word his reason. She nodded. "Then, my fear needs no further explanation, does it?"

Buffy laughed weakly. "Your greatest fear in the world is me sleeping?" she said, a wan smile playing upon her lips. "Want that I should tell Giles about it? I bet he'd find it funny."

"Summers..." The cautioning tone was back.

Raising her hand, Buffy squeezed Snape's. "I know," she said quietly, before drawing his fingertips from her face. "If I breathe a word, you'll make me drink your weird potions and turn me into something icky."

"How well you know me," Snape exhaled a long-suffering sigh, lifting her hand to touch his lips lightly to her knuckles.

"Yeah," Buffy said, lowering her eyes to look at their hands which sank to rest in her lap, as his fingers interwove between hers. "And the wiggy thing?" She raised her eyes to his once more. "I don't hate it."

Snape studied her and there was a distinct glint in his dark eyes. "Summers, are you sure you did not hit your head?" he inquired, his thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles. "You're beginning to sound quite assuredly insane."

"Crazy works," Buffy retorted, smiling slightly as she reluctantly withdrew her hand and stood up. "But now, Mister-I-keep-demon-thingies-in-my-bathroom-closet-and-fear-Buffy-when-she's-sleeping, we're late for breakfast. We better go."

"Anything that will stop this insane talk of finding me remotely likeable. I do believe that if the boggart were to reappear, that would be my new terror - Summers telling me she likes me." He shuddered visibly. "The horror is beyond words."

"Jerk."

"Thank you."

***

"Mornin', An!"

Pushing a piece of egg around her plate, Anya looked up at the dark-haired Slayer, a slight frown marring her brow. Cold February sunlight was filtering down on them, casting sharp light on the former demon's face as her frown deepened. "I am well aware it is morning, thank you, Faith," she replied, as the other girl dropped into the seat opposite her.

"Someone get out of the wrong side of bed this mornin'?"

The former demon shot a pointed look at Faith. "I don't know what you're implying," she said in a sniffy tone of voice. "My bed is very nice and comfortable and I don't think there is actually a wrong side to it. If there was Albus would fix it."

"He would, huh?" A wicked grin played across Faith's features, as she caught a hold of the cup of coffee, which has just appeared in front of her, taking a mouthful and sighing in relief as caffeine hit her bloodstream. "What got you in such a sunshine and light mood?"

"Are you actually speaking American that I can understand?"

"Why so cheerful?" Faith offered, smirking slightly around a bagel. "Man-issues?"

Anya's frown deepened. "I'm not sure I am permitted to discuss this in front of the students," she said, shooting a warning glare at an unfortunate Hufflepuff first year, who happened to be seated nearby. "But you have a lot of experience with men. Are they all so moody?"

"Depends on if they got laid in a big way," Faith yelped in indignation when she was tapped firmly on the head and she looked up to find Gunn standing over her. "What? I'm not allowed to give out free advice about guys to anyone who asks?"

"Not in front of the kids, Faith," Charles Gunn said evenly. "We don't want 'em knowing more than they really need to."

"More? No such thing!"

"Faith..."

Sighing, the Slayer raised her hand in acknowledgement. "Okay, okay, already," she sighed. "An, you and me - we gotta have a one-on-one somewhere we won't get interferin' jerks buttin' in and then I can tell you everything I know about the dumbassness that is Men."

Anya's expression brightened. "And perhaps then we can talk about sex and vaginas without the men getting embarrassed and turning red, even though it is very amusing to watch."

"What's this about turning red and watching?" Cordelia asked, approaching the table with Xander. "Are we going to be humiliated if we sit with you?"

"Nah, C, no more than usual," Faith said cheerfully, snatching a piece of toast. "Me and An are gonna find some time to talk guys. Wanna join in?"

"Girls' night?" Cordelia seemed to perk up instantly. "That would be kinda neat. I haven't had any other girls around to talk to in ages. Except Angel and Wesley and that really doesn't work, even though they do care more about their hair than I do."

"How about we get B, Red, Red's babe and D along for the ride?"

"You really mean to go all out on this?"

Anya nodded eagerly. "And we can have unhealthy food and complain about the unwillingness of men to listen or commit!" she exclaimed, rubbing her hands together gleefully. "I always used to enjoy that in the days when I was still a demon!"

"Again with the not-so-loud, An," Xander said, sliding into a seat beside Cordelia and reaching for a doughnut. "Do you want everyone to know you used to be in the vengeance business?"

Anya shrugged, swatting Xander's hand away from her coffee pot. "I don't see why I should be embarrassed that I was in a stable line of business for over a millennia. It's more than can be said for anyone in this place."

"She's got a point, Xander," Cordelia said with a laugh. "And yes, Anya, we're gonna do the girls night. All of us. Except maybe Dawn."

"Why not D?" Faith demanded around a mouthful of toast and coffee.

Xander and Gunn both looked at her with exactly the same expression.

"Because we know what your kind of conversations are going to be like?" Xander suggested with a knowing look at Faith. The Slayer smirked at him over the rim of her cup. "And Dawn's just a little young."

"I'd say a lot young," Cordelia added with a fond look at her boyfriend. "If we're gonna do girl's night right, then we can't be stopping every time we want to say something about the guys we're with."

"But it'll only be good, right?" Xander said hopefully. "Right?" Cordelia merely smiled, retrieving a slice of buttered toast and biting it. "Right? Cordy?"

"Way to go, Cor," Faith laughed merrily, ignoring the glower that Xander sent in her direction. "Get the boy all paranoid, so he'll try and bust into the girls' night. Gotta say I love the way you handle him."

Cordelia cast a prim look at the Slayer. "It's all a matter of knowing how they think," she replied, a devilish glint in her dark brown eyes. "If ever."

"HEY!" Xander and Gunn protested.

Smirking, Cordelia gestured to them. "See?"

"I believe we're seein' the Mistress at work," Faith commented to Anya, who was grinning at the two men. "Gotta love it when they squirm." Her eyes drifted over Xander, who blushed crimson and cleared his throat. "Perv."

"Xander!" Cordelia exclaimed.

"What?" Xander exclaimed in a wounded tone. "Everyone's picking on me!"

"Easy target, Xan," Faith chuckled, then covered her grinning mouth with her hand, an amused expression on her face as she glanced beyond them at the door on the far side of the Great Hall. "Holy..."

As one, everyone else seated at the table turned, staring in surprise at that which Faith had witnessed.

"Don't they... hate each other?" Xander said faintly.

Faith and Anya exchanged knowing glances.

"Obviously," Anya replied, sipping her coffee.

***

"That was too weird."

"Um... yes... just a wee bitty..."

Dawn eyed Duncan. "So you noticed too?"

The Scottish boy blinked before turning to face his friend. "They came into the hall together, Dawnie," he said in a monotone. "They came into the hall. Together. As in not on their own. Together."

It was just after breakfast and the surreal had happened in the Great Hall.

Most of the students and staff had been seated for breakfast, chatting and discussing what was to come in the day. Dawn, though, had been expressing her concerns about her sister, who had disappeared the night before and had yet to return, to Duncan.

Faith had said she was sure that Buffy was fine, but that had done little to reassure the Slayer's little sister, who had wanted to check every room in the castle. The dark-haired Slayer had insisted that she get breakfast first and then see what happened.

It happened.

About ten minutes after Dawn had arrived in the hall, the door behind the staff table had opened and two figures had entered, both looking strangely at ease, which never normally happened when they were in the near vicinity of one another.

Snape and Buffy.

He held the door open for her, allowing her to pass. She flashed him a smile and a 'Thank you, Snapey', before hurrying behind the staff table towards her seat between Minerva and Hermione, who were both staring at her with as much confusion as many of the pupils were.

Buffy. Snape. Civilised to each other.

Something about the situation seemed completely wrong.

Giles, on the other hand, looked like he was in serious pain from laughing so very hard, one hand smotheringly pressed over his mouth, his green eyes crinkled with amusement behind his glasses.

"You think he gave her a potion to drug her?"

"Ah think it's a wee bit more likely than him being nice to her," Duncan admitted, shivering a little. "Did ye see the way he held the door? Ah really thought he was gonnae smile..."

"Smile? Snapey?"

Duncan shuddered. "Don't make me remember it," he mumbled. "Ah dinnae want to be scarred for life by the memory."

"I bet that's why they did it!" Dawn exclaimed, making an excited gesture with one hand. "They wanted to freak us all out and Snapey being all nice to Buffy would work, wouldn't it?"

"Ah'll say!"

Dawn pulled a face. "I am SO glad we don't have potions today," she said, her nose wrinkling a little. "I don't think I'd be able to even look at him without getting all freaked out."

"Aye," Duncan acknowledged, as they started down the hall towards the Divination classroom, where Lorne and Cordelia were going to apparently be teaching them something about... something.

Cordelia hadn't been able to be any more specific, when Dawn has asked, saying something in an agitated voice about Lorne saying he wanted to surprise them all and hoping it wouldn't trigger a vision, because she would "so very much cause him a world of pain" if it did.

"Oh!" Glancing up at him, Dawn inquired, "Wanna see if Buffy'll let us go down to Hogsmeade this weekend? She'll probably freak cos of the whole Glory mess, but I kind wanna get to see the cool little pub thingie!"

Duncan winced. "I dunno, Dawnie," he replied. "Unless she comes with us, I don't think we're even gonna be allowed to go anywhere without someone watchin' you."

"Which sucks," Dawn put in. "Geez, it's not like the guy can get back in easily now! They have all the cool spells and thingies around the school and even if I went to Hogsmeade, even Malfoy isn't that dumb and I...OH!"

Duncan stopped mid-pace, closing his eyes. "Why," he said, "dae Ah not like the sound of that?"

"Because you know me?" Dawn offered, grinning.

One blue eye cracked open and he raised his brow. "So...?"

"Well, I still do have some of that polyjuice potiony stuff left, don't I?"

"Dawnie..."

"And I could always borrow someone's hair..."

"But, Dawnie..."

"And come in their body instead."

"DAWNIE!"

Dawn looked at him expectantly. "Yeah?"

"Ye cannae go," he said, his voice low and serious. Dawn stared at him. She had never seen him look so severe about anything. "Even in someone else's body. Ah cannae let ye go."

Her expression tightening, Dawn's fists balled on her hips. "You're not the boss of me, Duncan Cameron," she said, her voice clipped.

"Ah know that, Dawnie," he said, turning to face her fully. "but Ah am yer friend and Ah don't want tae see ye getting hurt by them again. Ah dinnae think Ah'd be able to cope wi' that."

"Then we'd just have to make sure they didn't find me."

Duncan's face was etched with concern and pain. "Dawnie," he said, catching one of her hands. "Please, dinnae do anythin' that might put ye in the position where they might get ye. Please."

Surprised by his tone, Dawn nodded. "All right, Mister I-wanna-run-your-life-since-I-don't-have-one," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "I'll stay in the castle and be bored and you can go into Hogsmeade and have fun. K?"

"Actually, no," Duncan replied, still holding her hand. "Ah'm no' goin' without you." A smile crossed his lips. "Ye'd have to be really lucky tae get rid of me that easily. Ah'm stayin' here."

"But it's your break!" Dawn exclaimed, staring at him. "You've been waiting for this for so long!"

Duncan shrugged. "Aye," he agreed. "But it widnae be any fun without my friend there, would it?"

"But..."

Raising a hand to silence her protests, he grinned. "Ye know the more ye argue, the more determined Ah am ta stay here, with ye, right?" He pulled her hand, drawing her arm to loop through his. "An' come on. We better no' be late for Divination."

"But..."

"Ah heard somethin' about crystal balls..."

"But Duncan!"

"And if yer lucky, ye might find one that actually lights up..."

Groaning, Dawn gave up. "You're weird."

Duncan merely grinned. "Aye. And yer point is?"

***

"But you might need our help!"

Giles gave Hermione and Willow a pointed look, then glanced down at their joined hands. "Do you honestly believe that you will let us get anything done, while you whisper sweet nothings?" he challenged.

"But we weren't! We wouldn't whisper the nothings when we're here! We're here for the working!" Willow exclaimed, disentangling her hand from Hermione's. "See! All here and ready for the workin'!"

"As much as I dislike agreeing with Mr. Giles," Minerva McGonagall cut in, a gleam of amusement in her eyes. "I'm afraid that cuddling up and muttering to one another and allowing Miss Granger to instigate a dozen blushes in as many minutes does indeed indicate that you are whispering sweet nothings, Miss Weasley."

Hermione grinned. "Nice to see I haven't lost my touch," she remarked, one hand disappearing beneath the table.

The other members of the group present around the long conference table could only make a wild guess where said hand had gone when Willow leapt up from her seat with a squeak of embarrassment.

"I assume that means you will be departing, then?" Giles quirked an eyebrow up.

Colour flooding up her face, Willow hastily grabbed up her own pile of texts and fled out of the door, Hermione rising and gathering her own sheaf of papers at a more leisurely pace.

"That was rather wicked of you, Hermione," Giles said.

"Yeah, sweets," Lorne shook his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. "And here I always thought you were the all nice, no naughties girl."

"What can I say? I do so love to surprise people who think I'm nothing but a bookworm," The bushy-haired witch shrugged with a mischievous smile. "I knew she would want to stay and help and since we do have those plans for tonight, it seemed the only way to actually get her to leave. You know that telling her she needed to rest wouldn't work. It would only make her more determined to stay."

"How very true," Wesley noted, raising his head from the book he was studying. "If I recall correctly, Willow was nearly always the last to leave the library at night, when we were dealing with problems upon the Hellmouth."

"And she really has been working far too hard recently," Minerva added with a very pointed look at the smirking Hermione. "Perhaps you could assure that she gets some rest, even I just for tonight, Miss Granger? And I do mean actual rest for once, not some other activity pertaining to a bed."

"Minerva, sweetheart," Lorne said with a note of urgency in his voice. "I kinda wouldn't be suggesting that. You don't want the world to spin right off into space because you got the lovely ladies to do the impossible, do you? I mean, come on, sleeping? Them?"

"Lorne!" Hermione exclaimed, although she was having trouble concealing a grin.

The demon raised his hands in self-defence. "Don't shoot the future-seeing messenger, Little Miss Wandering Hands! You just go take care of that girl of yours before she gets cranky."

"I'll see what I can do," the young witch laughed. "You're sure you don't want us to come back and help later?"

Giles made a dismissing gesture with one hand. "You have all been doing plenty," he said. "Take a chance to have one night off. I'm sure it won't make that much of a difference if you allow yourselves time to rest, do you?"

Shaking her head, Hermione finished stacking her carefully organised notebooks and papers neatly in her arms. "We'll see you all tomorrow, then," she said, on her way to the door. "Oh, and if you hear any explosions from the direction of Gryffindor Tower, don't worry. It's just us."

"That's what worries me," Giles observed, before the young witch disappeared out of the door of the classroom. Looking at Minerva, he remarked, "She really is quite a fascinating young lady."

"Astoundingly intelligent," Minerva agreed. "Very much like Miss Weasley, but - unfortunately - her interaction with the Weasleys resulted in that rather unfortunate sense of humour you have seen."

Raising his eyes to the witch, Giles couldn't conceal a grin. "And who do you think taught the Weasleys everything they know, by default through their father?" he inquired, an impish twinkle in his eyes.

"How could I forget?" McGonagall said evenly, sniffing and picking up her book once again. "Now, are we actually going to attempt to get any work done or are we simply going to spend the evening reminiscing about the dreadful old days when you seemed to harbour the delusion that you ruled this school?"

"Delusion? My dear Professor, I think you'll find that - when the staff weren't looking - we did, indeed, run this school and very efficiently, if I may be so bold as to say so."

"Ahem?" Both McGonagall and Giles looked at Wesley, struggling to contain their smiles. "Perhaps we should be working on this," he said, emphatically tapping the pile of books. "After all, I would hate to have to separate you in a wizards duel."

"Ditto the man on that," Lorne added, pulling a face. "Violence really doesn't solve any problems, y'know, and I'm betting when you can do the hocus pocus thing, it'll only be worse."

"A wise decision," Giles noted. "You don't want to give me ideas."

"You wouldn't even get far enough to draw your wand, Mister Giles," Minerva said smoothly. "Oh and don't worry, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. We wouldn't dream of having a wizarding duel. Most undignified. I would simply turn Mr. Giles here into a pig and leave it at that."

Wesley shook his head. "And that," he said. "Is what worries me."

***

"Don't you feel kind of... I don't know... left out?"

Strolling down the broad expanse of grass with Xander by the faint light of the fading sun, Charles Gunn shrugged. "Not really," he replied honestly. "I only help 'em when they ask. I'm not around all the time. I guess that's why you feel out of it, huh? You're always around, so when you don't got anything to do, you feel it more."

"I guess so," Xander agreed mildly. "It's just weird being in a place where everything is about the magic and I'm... well... not. Even Dawnie has something to do here and me? I hang out with a half-giant."

The two youngest men had departed from the research meeting on the orders of Giles, who was insisting that all of the younger generation - with the exception of Wesley - take a break.

Cordelia, Buffy, Willow, Hermione, Faith and Anya had arranged a girl's night in, which both of them had been exempted from, leaving them free to either practice their fighting - which Xander really didn't want to - or hanging out in the silent castle - which Gunn didn't want to.

Both of them had been vastly relieved when an invitation had arrived from Hagrid, which suggested they come down and see the new beasts he had acquired for the Care of Magical Creatures class, in spite of the fact they knew they could very well be walking into a dangerous situation.

Anything to get out of the castle's confines for a little while.

The pair had seldom spent any time in one another's company before and had been comparing notes as they made their way down from the castle, because neither of them had ever found anyone close in their age to relate to their experiences.

After all, very few people of their age groups were even aware of the existence of vampires and demons, yet Xander and Gunn had both spent years fighting against them, in spite of being only mortal. They had both lost someone they loved to the darkness. They both helped supernatural beings in a fight for goodness in the world.

Despite the difference in their backgrounds and nature, both of them had found a strange kinship with the other, both being normal young men, yet being involved with the most magical and supernatural situations and people.

"Hangin' out with a half-giant... yeah, that's real normal," Gunn shook his head, grinning. "Somethin' tells me that no matter what, we're never gonna have a normal life. At least not the kinda normal life most people have."

"Do you think you'd want one?" Xander asked thoughtfully, studying Gunn out of the corner of his eyes. "If you had a chance to have a real, normal life and you knew all the stuff you know now, do you think you'd be able to live like that?"

Gunn looked at the younger man in surprise. While he already admired the way Xander had been fighting for so many years in spite of the fact he was just a kid, he still couldn't help being surprised by the depths that Xander revealed. He had a way of looking at situations that Gunn had never even thought of.

"If I knew about the demons and shit?"

"Yeah," Xander paused, glancing out towards the lake through the gateway. "I know I couldn't go and live in a nice house with wife and kids if I knew that kind of thing was out there and no one was doing anything to help." He turned back to Gunn, a look of quiet acceptance on his face. "I think that's why I still do what I can, even if it doesn't look like much. It's still something."

"So you know that you're not just sittin' on your ass and lettin' people die?"

"Yeah."

Gunn nodded. It was familiar, this argument. He had fought for his people, for his friends, for the safety of those people under his leadership and the thought of being absent, not doing anything to help...

It was one of the reasons he had agreed to accompany Angel's group on this mission, after being told that it could result in the emergence of an evil that would surpass anything and everything they had ever fought this far.

If he could help, he knew he would, and seeing the arsenal they had been gathering, he was starting to get a vague idea of the sheer scale of the battle that seemed to be looming on the horizon.

When they had said 'bigger', it hadn't been an exaggeration.

A Hell Goddess...

Looking ahead of them, the older of the pair could see what looked like a house just ahead of them, only a spiky silhouette against the even darker backdrop of the woods, faint light flickering in the windows.

The house of a Half-giant.

Weird how fairy stories seemed to be coming to life right in front of him.

Following Xander the distance to the small house, he waited politely behind the younger man as the door was yanked open by the immense man, whom he had only seen in passing and generally avoided for fear of being squashed, a wild volley of barking almost making him back away.

Hagrid looked terrifying, massive, hairy and always clad in clothes that looked like patched hides of some kind of weird beast, stomping around the grounds. All in all, he looked frightening.

"Xander! Ye could come after a'!"

Grinning, Xander nodded. "The girls are doing their... thing just now, so we figured we could come and see what you found," he replied cheerfully. "Hagrid, this is Gunn, Gunn, Hagrid."

A hand the size of a garbage can lid was extended and Gunn - after a moment's hesitation - shook it. To his surprise, he didn't come away with crushed fingers, the giant's grip strangely gentle for one so big.

"So yer a frien' o' the group at the school, eh?" the giant said in a voice that was little more than a booming rumble, his dark eyes bright behind the wiry mass of his beard and hair. "Haven' had the chance to meet all o' ye, yet." Motioning into the house, he beamed down at them. "Yer jus' in time ter see it."

"What's it?" Xander asked, as he entered.

Gunn took the chance to glance around the house, which looked as ramshackle inside as it did outside, the walls hung and lined with all manner of objects, from drying plants to the carcasses of animals and weapons.

A fire crackled and spat merrily in the grate, under an immense copper kettle, from which steam was pouring. Gunn managed to leap back just in time to avoid being pounced upon by a massive, fearsome-looking dog.

"Holy shi..."

Xander caught the dog by the collar, hauling it back with great effort. "Down, Fang!" he yelled, laughing as the dog turned its attention to him and started licking his ears. "Fang! Get off!"

"Fang?" Gunn echoed faintly, staring at the dog. It looked as frightening as its owner on first appearance, but now it was bounding around Xander - who had just tripped and landed on his ass on the floor - like an exuberant puppy.

"He's a cute little thing, isn't he?" Xander smirked at the look on Gunn's face, as he struggled back onto his feet, fending off further licks and bounces by the dog. "So, what do you have this time, Hagrid?"

"Jus' a little thing this time, Xander," Hagrid chuckled. "Nothin' like Aragog."

"Aragog?" Gunn inquired, approaching the high table, where the giant had directed Xander, a large box - only a little smaller than a crate - standing there and shaking from side to side.

"I think he's an... uh... is it acromantula, Hagrid?"

"Wha? Aragog? Aye... aye, he's just a wee thing."

Leaning a little closer to Gunn, Xander muttered, "He's a giant spider and he's at least the same size as an elephant." Gunn felt swoop of nausea in his gut. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was spiders. Demons, yes. Vampires, not a problem. Spiders? Gross didn't come close. He figured it was the legs and the way they moved that freaked him out, creepy-ass things.

"And... uh... there's no big-ass spider in that box, right?"

"Phobia?"

"Sorta," Gunn ruefully admitted.

"Hagrid, is there something spidery in the box?"

"Spidery?" Hagrid looked over from the fire, where he was putting the kettle on, then shook his head. "No, no... this is somethin' special for the classes. Ye can open the box if ye want and take a look. I'll get ye a cup o' tea and we can have somethin' ter eat too if yer like."

"Sounds great," Gunn said with marked relief.

"Which part?" Xander asked in an undertone.

"The eating."

Xander cast a bemused glance at Gunn. "You've never seen Hagrid's kind of food, have you?" With a wry look at his companion, Gunn couldn't help but wonder if it would have been safer to stay in the castle.

***

The solitary flame that flickered silently in the grate barely cast sufficient light to highlight the isolated figure seated before the mantle, his hands steepled before his face, his thin lips pressed against his interlocked fingers.

Since his classes had finished earlier that day, leaving his heaps of papers to be marked lying unceremoniously on his desk, Severus Snape had been seated in his chambers, his dark eyes lingered upon the paling heart of the flames.

Hours had passed by unnoticed, the sinking of the fire insignificant, his thoughts churning through his mind, every one of them lingering upon the small, slight young woman who had shared his bed the previous night.

What the devil had she become to him?

The encounter with the boggart that morning had proved she had become something beyond his conscious reckoning, even though he had lied about what the body upon the floor had meant.

The Slayer represented by the boggart had not been sleeping, he knew.

At least no sleep that she would wake from.

It was to his shock that he had realised what his greatest fear had become, but he could not understand how nor when nor why the tiny, blonde bundle of energy had wormed her way into his heart and mind.

Shifting to lean upon his right arm, his fingers curled slightly and resting against his cheek, Severus watched the faint sparks flaring from the core of the fire, his brow furrowed in thought.

Was it possible, he wondered, that he cared so greatly for her?

For so long, he had evaded the company of others, spending all of his time sheltering himself from emotion, shielding himself from the hurt he had so often felt as a child, rejected and hated by his family and peers.

Even now, he could not understand that she would willingly spend time in his company, even seek him out and concern herself about him. It was not pity, he knew. He recognised pity and it made him physically ill.

No, it was not pity he saw in her.

Adept at understanding emotions, he knew she found him... likeable. It was strange, very strange, but he had not violated the sanctity of her mind to find an answer. That, in itself, was odd. Most people, he scanned at once, but Summers...

Part of him could not find the courage to do such a thing and another part of him was certain she would be far too strong for him to even try.

And he would not violate the trust she had placed in him, of all people, which he knew should scare him much more than it did.

The only person he had truly regarded as a friend had been Rupert Giles and now, this girl, this odd and bewildering little muggle individual, was stirring emotions in him that he had forced himself to ignore for so many years.

Such a cheerful, amiable, normal...

No, not normal.

Never normal.

There was nothing about Summers that could be classed as normal, even in the best ways. Her physical and mental strength was beyond his comprehension, her courage and nerve equally so, the love and loyalty that flowed from and to her even more powerful than that directed at Dumbledore himself.

She was harmonised contradiction personified, in Severus' eyes.

With the fate she had, with the role she was forced to play, he had almost expected her to be a world-weary battle-axe, as he had been for so many years, fatigued and depressed by the lack of success in her quest to defeat the shadows.

Like her, he had fought against the darkness, but even after years of doing the same, she retained a purity and an energy which he had long since lost, which he had lost even before he had encountered the darkness for the first time.

From what he had seen, she was rarely disillusioned by the fight that lay before her, no matter how dark. Always determined and ready to do what she had to in order to save even one or two people, something even he had struggled to do.

Yes, she was stronger and better than anyone he had ever encountered, good and noble and so very much out of his league. Too good, too strong, too brave. He knew that when it came to it, he did not deserve her to even look upon him in kindness, let alone the affection he felt growing for her.

Exhaling, Severus lowered his hands to rest loosely in his lap, the faint flames softly highlighting his worn features, the shadows beneath his eyes making him look even older than usual.

Even if she pushed him away, he was shocked by the realisation that no matter what happened, he would be there to always ensure that no harm would come to her as long as he could help it.

"Dammit, Severus," he said softly to himself. "What has she done to you?"

***

"Ice cream?"

"Check!"

"Dawnie safely locked up in our room with Duncan and Spike for company?"

"Check!"

"No guys?"

"Check!"

"Chocolate?"

"Check, check, check and a helluva lot of check!"

Beaming, Cordelia laid down the notebook which had the list of necessities for the girls' night in. "Looks like we're all set to go," she said. "The meeting of the young ladies... and Faith has begun."

"You sayin' I'm not a lady, C?"

The Seer sniffed, though her eyes were twinkling. "Obviously."

"Damn, you know me too good," Faith half-laughed, leaning back on the heap of pillows, her legs stretched in front of her and crossed at the ankles. "So, how long do we think we got before the boys try to gate-crash?"

The six girls were in Willow and Hermione's bedroom, the heap of pillows on the floor nearly double in size, all of the girls clad in their most comfortable clothes, leaving them looking an oddly ragtag bunch. Faith was in her favourite black leather pants and vest, Cordelia was still looking irritatingly glamorous in sweatpants and a T-shirt with her hair loosely pulled in a knot on top of her head, while Hermione and Willow were both in casual skirts and Weasley jumpers.

The other two, though, could not have looked less muggle if they tried. Buffy was clad in her favourite blue robes using the excuse that it was cooler in Willow and Hermione's room than in hers.

Anya was wearing a gaudily-coloured tunic and overrobe that looked cosy and comfortable, but also as if it had been pulled from a century old wardrobe, which - knowing her closest friend in the school - could well prove true.

"Actually, Albus told me that Xander and Charles have gone to visit Hagrid," Anya interrupted, unbuttoning several buttons on her outer robes. "He had something new and probably dangerous that he wished to show them. They will probably be quite some time, especially if it escapes."

"When you say dangerous...?" Cordelia began suspiciously.

"Oh, don't be afraid for Xander being broken," the former demon advised without looking up from her buttons. "I am certain Hagrid will prevent anything from eating your boyfriend."

"Reassured, Cordelia?" Hermione inquired, eyes twinkling.

A manicured nail was pointed at the brown-haired witch. "You're just trying to make me look like I'm all concerned for him!"

"And are you?" Willow asked, an impish look on her face as she looked over at the Seer. She was seated behind her lover, her arms about Hermione's neck.

Cordelia's lips twitched slightly, then she returned the smile faintly. "Okay, yeah, I am a little worried about him," she admitted, "and I don't think it's fair that you get to have your hunny at girlie nights!"

Hermione's eyes were half-closed and she leaned back into Willow's embrace. "It is the minor advantage of, in fact, being a girl," she observed, raising one hand to pointedly tap her breasts. "As are these."

"Nice pair you got," Faith smirked, shaking her hair back from her face. Reaching forward, she snagged one of the tubs of ice cream floating in the middle of the circle of friends, a mist of icy air hovering around them to keep them cool. "But that don't prove you're of the female. I know plenty of guys who've got better ones."

"Well, they're just fine for me, thank you," Hermione sniffed. "And for Willow, if I am any judge of her little squeaks..."

"HERMIONE!"

"You really like making her blush, don't you?" Buffy observed with a small smile, shaking her head as her red-haired friend's face went flaming scarlet and was promptly hidden in Hermione's thick hair.

Reaching up to pet Willow's hair, Hermione shrugged. "She makes it so easy," she answered with a mischievous smile. "But we're not here to discuss our love life. We're here to discuss your love lives or lack thereof."

"I think you don't get the term 'girls night'," Cordelia said hastily. "We don't talk about our relationships!"

"Little too shy about it, Cordelia?" Hermione challenged, smirking.

Had Cordelia been anyone else, she would have turned scarlet, but being who she was, the only signs of embarrassment were the faint patches of pink that flared on her cheeks. "No! We're doing great!"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"You know," Faith leaned forward, studying the Seer intently, waving her spoon in Cordelia's direction. "I kinda get the feelin' she's not lyin'. You just don't wanna dish the dirt on your boy, huh? How cute."

"Faith, you're going the right way to have that ice cream poured on your head."

Faith just smirked around the spoon, settling back against the pillow. With her mouth full, she inquired, "What about you, An? What's the what with you and Old D? You were lookin' kinda down earlier. He not givin' enough in the sack?"

Collective nauseous looks passed around the four other girls.

"Faith! I have no complaints about Albus's sexual behaviour!" Anya exclaimed, looking slightly agitated. "I told you that I was concerned about men being moody and incapable of committing!"

"You... you want to get Dumbledore to settle down?" Hermione was the one to voice the question, staring at the former Demon. "Albus Dumbledore? The man who has been single for a hundred and twenty years?"

"Geez, An!" Faith whistled in admiration. "You know how to pick 'em."

Anya looked proud in part, but rather bashful on the other hand. "Well, I am working with what I remember from human courtship rituals. Normally, you are meant to have the romance, then something about love and then the marriage..." Her face fell. "And then the betrayal..."

"Betrayal?" Buffy echoed. "You're talking about Professor Dumbledore, Anya. I don't think he even knows how to betray anyone."

"I suppose that is true," Anya sighed, her expression lightening a little. "But how long does it take normally?"

Bemused looks passed between her five companions.

"We're probably not the best people to ask," Hermione replied, the others nodding in agreement around her. "My record so far is my best friend from school and now, I'm in love with his sister."

"God knows how many," Faith offered.

"A demon computer, a werewolf and a witch," Willow added with a half-grin. "At least I didn't date any of their sister's, though." Hermione swatted her knee, both of them laughing.

Cordelia pulled a face. "Some High School jerks, Xander, a half-demon, a demon-host-guy who gave me spawn... and we won't even go into the other stuff, because just ew."

All eyes went expectantly to Buffy, who seemed to have suddenly taken a deep interest in her chocolate ice cream. "Angel, the souled vampire," she said quietly, lifting her eyes to them. "Parker, the jerk. Riley, the commando. Not exactly of the good for showing how a good relationship works."

"But you and..." Anya began, then clapped her mouth shut.

"But what?" Hermione said, sitting up a little straighter, curiosity on her face.

"Nothing!" Anya and Buffy both yelped, the Slayer flashing a glare at the sandy-haired ex-demon.

Hermione shot a side-long glance at Cordelia. "Do you get the feeling that we're not being told something here?" she inquired, turning to look up at Willow, who nodded, a suspicious look directed at Buffy from the red head.

"Well, we know she's not seeing Sirius," Willow said, her chin coming to rest on Hermione's shoulder.

"Nah," Faith smirked. "Got me a leash for the big bad puppy."

Green eyes widened. "Did anyone else just go to a scary visual place?"

"Scary?" Hermione blinked. "Good heavens, no! Sirius on a leash? In what world is that bad?"

"Hemione!"

The brown-haired witch gave her lover a prim look, as the other girls erupted in giggles. "You are the one who said if we were to ever invite someone else to join us, you hoped it would be Sirius."

"Hermione!" Willow's wail was even more plaintive.

"What is it, darling?"

Amid the brief distraction provided by the red head and her lover, Buffy and Anya exchanged looks, the Slayer sighing with relief that her little secret would - at least for now - remain concealed.

"You guys are wicked kinky," Faith looked from one to the other, catching the blonde Slayer's attention again. "You wanted my new boytoy to join in a threeway with you?"

Willow seemed to have vanished behind Hermione, making futile little squeaking sounds of embarrassment.

"Boytoy?" Cordelia interrupted rapidly. "Faith, since when do you have 'boytoys' that last more than fifteen minutes?"

The dark-haired Slayer smiled, an oddly shy smile. "Since I found a guy who had been in a worse place than I ever had and who kinda gets me."

Hermione gave her a wicked look. "Only 'kinda gets'?" she prompted, smirking.

Faith stared at her, then threw back her head, laughing loudly. "Hell, Red, if you hadn't got her," she said, grinning widely at the two witches. "You'd have serious competition for her and that mind of hers."

A faint squeaky noise came from behind Hermione.

"Willow," Hermione remarked, although her stage-whisper was laced with mischief. "Since we can't get Sirius on his own, how about we have Faith come along as well? After all, the more the merrier."

"HERMIONE!"

Around the two witches, the other girls couldn't help laughing.

***

Moonlight washed over the peak of the tower, giving everything a wintery blue hue, the moon cresting over the hills in the distance, a brilliantly bright grin against the darkness of the star-spotted sky.

The individual caught in the evening light, though, seemed oblivious to the beauty of that which surrounded him. Sitting on the broad balustrade, his legs dangling over the side of the tower, his attention seemed focussed inwards.

Every so often, a puff of air would escape his lips, a cloud of condensation floating away on the crisp, late-winter, early-spring air. Anyone else would have retreated indoors because of the cold, but the vampire didn't care.

As soon as the two teenagers in his care had fallen asleep - with a little help of sleeping potion applied to the plate of cookies to ensure that they did actually get some sleep at some point - he had wandered off through the castle, finding his way to the top of the tower where he now sat.

Bare hands spread on the stone beneath him, the surface rough against his skin, as he closed his eyes and tilted his head.

"Sneaking about again, eh, old man?"

"Is that how you speak to people of your own age, William?" Dumbledore said with a note of mock-disapproval in his tone, as he emerged from the shadows of one of the nearby gargoyles, his midnight blue robes rustling softly upon the stone beneath him.

"Nah," Turning slightly, Spike glanced over his shoulder. "Usually, I'm ruder. What dragged you all the way up here tonight? Demon girl still at that girlie thing that the Niblet was talking about?"

"If you are referring to Anya, then yes. She is in attendance."

Spike's lips lifted in a half-smile, eyes twinkling at the wizard. "Still takes me some getting used to hearing you calling someone who looks about twenty by their forename, instead of their surname," he remarked, swinging his legs back around and dropping onto his feet, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. "But that doesn't answer my question. What brings you up here, to the tallest, gloomiest tower, when I'm the only person lurking about and looking magnificently broody? Not hanging about at those research parties with the other twits?"

"Research really isn't my forte and with Minerva and Mister Giles threatening one another constantly, it does get a little tiresome," Albus replied with a long-suffering sigh. "Also, I have provided all the knowledge I have to them. If they need my aid, all they need do is call. As for why I am here, would you believe me if I said I intended to prevent you from performing Angel's sole reason for being?"

Spike's scarred eyebrow lifted marginally, then he laughed. "You know, I knew there was a reason I liked you, mate," he said, shaking his head as he approached the old wizard. "So, you've come to stop me brooding and lurking?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "If you find that definition of moping and pouting like a girl preferable, then yes," he said, his expression serious, but belied by the twinkle in blue eyes over half-moon spectacles.

"Thanks," said Spike sourly. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"The same way two men have come to understand one another for centuries."

"You want me to beat the crap out of you?"

Dumbledore's mouth lifted in a subtle smile. "Pardon me, but I do believe I would be the one who was doing the 'crap beating' as you so eloquently phrased it, although I do believe that talking would serve as an equally satisfactory way to deliberate over our woes."

"Talking? You think that's the way men have sorted through their problems?"

The wizard shrugged with a small smile. "Did I mention that I have often been called insane and delusional?"

"I'm beginning to see why," Spike observed, straightening his arms, the muscles in his lean limbs flexing beneath Dumbledore's gaze. "So, old man, where are we going to do this talking thing?"

"Would you rather remain out here or partake in a hot chocolate?"

The vampire's nose wrinkled. "Can you make it the way Joyce does?" he inquired with a tone of feigned disinterest, his arms crossed over his chest. "If you can't, then you can just bugger off."

"I can always try. I'm sure there's one of the studies free, if you would join me..."

"S'pose so," Spike sighed, looking for all the world as if that were the worst suggestion he had ever heard, although it was belied by the half-smile he flashed at the old wizard.

Making their way back into the tower and starting down the winding staircase, they came to a halt before a painting of a tall, noble-looking man with dark hair pulled back from a striking face. Dumbledore studied the painting for several minutes.

Tilting his head, the vampire regarded him, unable to shake something not quite right about the man contained within the frame. He was clad in tan-coloured leather, but his face seemed almost deathly pale, his eyes - focussed in the distance - were tainted by a trace of gold.

"Who's the poof?" Spike asked vaguely.

Dumbledore smiled lightly, hands folded before him. "He was the previous owner of your book," he replied in a casual tone, his eyes moving to Spike's face in time to catch the vampire's reaction. "Surely you could tell he wasn't entirely human?"

Nearing the painting, Spike stared at the man contained within, wonder and surprise on his face. "Did you know him?"

"I did have the privilege of meeting him once, at the end of his exceptionally long life," Dumbledore answered with a small smile. "It was a long time ago, now, but I can still recall it in detail. If you consider your behaviour rude, then this gentleman could well have been your mentor. If he did not... appreciate your presence, he would be sure to let you know about it. Needless to say, he often made a bad impression because he did not suffer fools gladly."

"I get the feeling I would have liked him."

"I suspected you might say that." Dumbledore smiled slightly, turning to face the bleach-haired vampire. "He entrusted me with that book, which now resides in your possession. He believed that I would be an adequate judge, when it came to finding a new owner for it."

"In other words," Spike retorted dryly, his arms crossing, brow rising, "you find a vampire who doesn't try and bite your arse then the minute he says something non-threatening to you and you lob the book at him?"

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "How well you understand my mind, William. Alas, I am far too old and lazy to go gallivanting on a crusade to find a worthy vampire, so I took the first one who came along."

In spite of Dumbledore's tone, it was more than clear that the aged wizard had waited a long time before handing the book on. His joking words were entirely belied by the fact that both he and Spike knew that he had specifically chosen Spike to be the new owner, even over Angel.

Studying the picture thoughtfully, Spike raised a hand and trailed his fingertips over the canvas. "Isn't this one of those talking pictures, then?" he inquired, looking to the Head Master.

"I am afraid not," Dumbledore replied. "To be bound to a portrait means that a little of your essence lingers on in the mortal realm, but our friend here felt his life had been prolonged enough. He was, however, kind enough to grant me this lasting image of him." Shaking his head, the wizard sighed. "A remarkable man."

"Would have liked to have a bit of a natter with him," Spike admitted ruefully, his gaze lingering on the painting. "I do sort of want to know what it was like, especially since he was the only one who managed."

"I do have a suggestion," Dumbledore said after a moment.

"Oh?"

"Have you ever heard of a pensieve?"

Spike's brow wrinkled in thought. "Isn't that one of those memory thingies?" he asked. "The big bowls that you store your memories in? Giles mentioned something about one."

"Indeed it is," Dumbledore replied with a smile, his hands folded before him within his capricious sleeves. "Would you like me to find my meeting with our friend here? I'm sure it would prove very illuminating for you."

The vampire stared at the old wizard in surprise. "You'd let me have a nose in your memories?"

"William, I found you deserving of the gift of the book that once belonged to this man, which ought to tell you that you are already an exceptional creature. I believe I can trust you with my memories regarding him."

Much to Dumbledore's amusement, his words triggered a rather reddish bloom across the face of the vampire, who looked both pleased with the commendation and vastly embarrassed by the same thing.

"Er... you do know I'm still evil, don't you?"

"Of course, William. Of course."