The Eighth Weasley

GODS AND MONSTERS

_____________________________________________

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Seconded."

"Is it... I mean, I am seeing right...?"

"If ye're seeing pink, then Ah am too and we've not just gone crazy."

"And the little fat ugly angel-y things flying around?"

"Nope. They're there too."

"Holy..."

"Do ye think anyone would notice if we ran away?"

"Do you care if anyone noticed? I mean, yeah, it's the chicken's way out, but God! Don't they know the meaning of overkill?"

Standing in the doorway of the Great Hall, Duncan and Dawn were staring in horror at the room. It was like a car wreck. A big car wreck. A car wreck that included a dozen carnival floats, several delivery vans from flower shops and a decorating tanker full of pink paint.

While their stomachs were demanding breakfasts, their eyes demanded that they be bleached and rinsed repeatedly in order to scourge the image of small, fat cupids clad in nothing more than ribbons fluttering around from their retinas.

It seemed safe to say that they weren't the only ones trying to make sense of the traumatic sight that lay before them, judging by the mass of students assembled on the stairs and in the hall that lead to the Great Hall.

It was a brave - or more likely exceptionally hungry - sixth year boy from Hufflepuff that took the first faltering step across the threshold, the assembled student body holding their breath.

The Cupids swarmed together, homing in on him and diving like a legion of winged monkeys, warbling what - at a later date was decided by general consensus - was meant to be poetry.

The Hufflepuff's nerve shattered and he made a desperate break for the door, but it was too late; the Cupids caught him, shrilling lamentable poetry at him, drowning out his yell for help.

Long, silky ribbons tangled around him, making escape impossible and chubby fists tossed handfuls of petals on him, covering him in what looked like a coating of over-sized flakes of pink dandruff.

Finally, he appeared to give up, resembling a pink mummy and sagging under the weight of flowers and silk.

The Cupids sang - badly - in triumph and the boy was carried to his table, deposited on one of the long benches, then the winged Cupids hovered back over towards the doorway, beaming with terrifying innocence down on the rest of the students.

"So not wanting to go in there..." Dawn mumbled, eyes round as saucers.

"Well..." Duncan said, shifting back a few paces, so Dawn was at the front of the crowd. "Maybe they only do that to the first person who goes in..." His hand nudged gently at the base of her back. "Why don't you check?"

"Nuh-uh!"

A small first year peeped around the doorframe. "Do you think they'll do that to the teachers as well?" she asked cautiously.

"Professor Snape would kill them," a Slytherin pupil said sagely.

"D'you think we could get Dumbledore to call 'em off?"

"Who do you think set them up in the first place?" One of the Gryffindor sixth years was suspiciously watching the Cupids. The pudgy cherubs were circling like vultures and gave the impression they were about to swoop at any moment.

Any speculation, though, was silenced as the door at the opposite end of the Great Hall opened with just enough dramatic creaking, then there was a shriek of absolute delight from the person standing there; "Albus!"

Above the main door, the Cupids exchanged looks, then scattered about the room, collecting their baskets of petals and reams of ribbon, no longer quite as terrifying as they had been as the cute, fleshy and pink swarm.

Dumbledore entered the room with Anya by his side, the former demon clinging to his arm giddily, staring around at the extreme... pinkness of the hall. She was smiling and someone at the back of the group at the door muttered an inquiry about whether the woman was hallucinating something nicer than what they were seeing.

"This is the best Valentine's Day I have ever had!" she was exclaiming happily. "I thought you were going to be all Ebeneezery on me, but you've done this!" A kiss was placed on Dumbledore's cheek, which suddenly changed colour to match the decor of the Great Hall. "You even have the ugly, flying, naked babies!"

At the threshold, Dawn slowly nodded. "Ah." The gruesome decoration suddenly made sense. She gave Duncan a helpless look. "I think we're stuck with this all day, if Anya has anything to do with it. I guess we should deal, huh?"

"We... have to go in there?"

Dawn shuddered. "Yeah. Unless you just... y'know... don't wanna eat today."

Duncan stared fearfully at the Valentine's Day decorations. His stomach growled wetly and he gave it a poke, as if it had betrayed him. "It won't be that bad," he muttered, though he didn't sound convinced. "And they fat angel things look like they'll leave us alone..." He looked at his friend. "If you go in, I'll go in."

Reaching out, Dawn grabbed his wrist with one hand. "If we're going in there," she said, lifting her chin. "We're both going in together. I'm not being all mummified and flowery on my own."

"Yay?" Duncan uttered weakly. "On three..."

"One... two..."

Both of their feet crossed the threshold and they froze. Several Cupids lazily circled them, eyeing them speculatively, but settled for just scattering a handful of petals over both of them, before droning off towards the High Table, where nauseated-looking members of staff were taking their seats.

The only people who looked remotely comfortable were Dumbledore, who was beaming like a child who had been given his favourite toy, and Anya, who was - for once - seated beside the Head Master at the High Table, exclaiming gleefully over the heart-shaped pieces of toast and flowers and everything else.

"I shoulda guessed Anya wanted this," Dawn muttered to Duncan as they slipped into their seats as quietly as possible. "She's not had proper festivals before and she kinda likes the tacky."

"Really?" Duncan dead-panned. "Ah couldnae tell."

Dawn stuck her tongue out at him, then waved at Cordelia and Xander who had just entered. "Hey!"

Xander was looking around the Hall, clinging to Cordelia's arm as one terrified. His face was twisted in a combination of pained amusement and blatant horror. "Anya?" he mouthed at Dawn, who nodded.

"Please tell me you didn't do anything like this for her," Cordelia muttered. "You would have to be crazy."

"Even if I wanted to," Xander countered, as they approached the table where Willow was already sitting, trying to brush pink rose petals off her buttery toast. "I couldn't afford to get this tacky. Hey, Will."

"Oh, hey..." The witch picked up a spoon and started scooping petals out of her coffee as well.

"How long are we gonna be stuck with this?" Faith asked as she neared and dropped into a seat on Willow's other side, then leapt up with a yell, picking a bunch of crushed red roses off the chair and glaring at them. "And who the hell left thorny flowers on my seat? I'm gonna be pickin' prickles out my ass all day!"

"Um..." Xander's hand rose.

Faith grinned wryly. "Uh... Cordy, I guess these are yours," she said, handing the squashed bouquet across to the Seer. "Uh... sorry."

"Hey, it's better than a metal through the guts," Cordelia said, nudging Xander in the ribs, drawing a wan smile from him. She accepted the roses and picked through the bunch for the least-squashed one. Tugging the thorns off, she looked over at Willow. "You able to get me a pin for this thing?"

Without even looking away from the High table and her girlfriend, Willow made a gesture with her wand, an elaborate silvery pin appearing on the tabletop.

"Nice..." Xander murmured appreciatively, picking it up and affixing the rose to Cordelia's sweater with it. He raised his eyes to her. "Sorry I didn't get anything better, sweetie."

"Smooshed roses and a pretty pin aren't all bad," she conceded, kissing him fondly and receiving a nervous look for the gesture. "All right, a real expensive meal and new wardrobe would be great, but I love the rose anyway, okay?"

"That's the Cordy I know and love," Xander exhaled a relieved breath. "Don't go all nice on me. It's confusing."

"Aww, poor Xander," Willow lamented teasingly.

"Hey, don't you start on me, Wills!" Xander protested. "I'm still adjusting to you actually having a girlfriend who is actually a girl. Cordy going nice and sweet on me is just a little bit more mind-boggling." He squinted. "I don't adjust easily."

"What if I told you that B and the grumpy wannabe-evil guy are knockin' boots?"

"Uh..." Shades of green slowly ebbed up Xander's face, his eyes wide. "Please tell me you're joking... please?"

Faith let the question hang as she took her time finishing a slice of toast, then started snickering. "You should see the look on your face, Xan," she smirked slyly, pointing at him with a second piece of toast. "Never seen anyone look so sick before."

"And you say I'm sick..." Xander mumbled, shuddering.

The dark-haired Slayer grinned and nodded to the High Table, where Buffy was talking animatedly to Giles. "Can you see B ever gettin' on enough with old Cranky Ass to jump his bones?"

"Faith!" Xander clapped his hands over his ears. On the opposite side of the table, the Slayer just grinned and tucked into a fresh roll.

"What's got you so good-moody?" Willow asked curiously.

"Me?"

"Yeah," Cordelia added, cocking her head. Faith seemed to be struggling to hide a grin. "You only get to Xander if you're way good moody. Someone been playing find the bone with a certain big, black dog?"

"Cordy!" Xander wailed, having just lowered his hands from his ears at exactly the wrong moment.

Faith intently examined the bubbly texture of the inside of her roll, though there was no mistaking the dimple that appeared on one cheek. "Don't know what you're talkin' about, C."

"Sure," Cordelia retorted. "Spill it."

Faith poked her well and truly butchered roll around on the plate in front of her with the butter knife, then grinned bashfully. "I guess everyone has to be someone's bitch, huh?" she murmured.

"And for once," Cordelia said, grinning. "That is the word that really fits."

"This conversation is wrong," Xander whimpered. "On so many levels..."

"Speaking of wrong," Willow was looking at something at the High Table which wasn't female, bushy-haired or witch-shaped. "Uh... are my eyes going weird or is Snape wearing colours?"

As one, the group turned to look, as - it appeared - did most of the student body.

Edging into his seat, doing his utmost to go unnoticed and failing abysmally, Severus Snape was wearing robes of a deep, dark shade of emerald, which had replaced the usual sombre black ensemble. Even the buttons were elaborate silver curls, rather than polished, black ones.

Anyone who would have dared to point and laugh at this change, however, was quickly silenced by the ominous glare that was practically vibrating out from the dark Professor, as he took his seat.

Of course, there was always one who wanted to have her say.

"Nice look, Snapey."

It looked like the Potions Master was on the verge of spitting nails.

"Do shut up, Summers." he gritted out between clenched teeth.

Buffy beamed at him, seeming oblivious to the death glare that was being directed at her. She was wearing a bright red headband with two pink, flashing hearts on springs stuck to it and they wobbled to and fro. "I guess you don't like the mushiness, huh?"

The slow, deliberate way his bony fingers curled around his butter knife would have sent any endangered species running for cover. "I am here to endure breakfast, Miss Summers," he said frostily. "Nothing more."

Buffy leaned towards the snickering Hermione and muttered in a stage whisper, "I bet he's actually enjoying the show. The bitchy, broody Kings of pain always like fluffy romance, y'know."

Black eyes glittered at her in caution. "Summers."

Raising her hands in submission, the Slayer smiled warmly. "I can take a hint, Snapey," she said cheerfully, though Snape's glare did not abate at all.

"Eventually, cupcake," Lorne agreed, patting her on the hand. Like the Slayer, he was wearing a pair of the ridiculous springy hearts, getting into the right mood, which apparently thrilled Anya, who was revelling in the sheer cheesiness factor.

As was McGonagall, but the fact she was virtually tied to her chair by pink ribbons and had flowers blooming from her hat, around the headband, suggested it was not a statement she had decided to make by choice.

A green-eyed glare scanned the student body, nearly as terrifying as the Potions Professor's, but directed at only one person who had done the wise thing and hidden, out of her reach.

Somewhere, at the back of the hall, a vampire could be heard, giggling.

***

"We've already tried the kidnap thing before and hey! Don't seem to have my key, do I?"

Lucius rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. "Only because we allowed Narcissa to intervene on that occasion," he said curtly. He was seated behind his desk, leaning against the high back of his chair. "If we had known then..."

"I wanna suck the bitch dry," Glory's voice was laced with malevolence, her pretty features twisted into something unnatural and ugly. "Stick my fingers in and wiggle and squirm and feel her breaking apart."

The wizard brought his hand down on the desk with a loud smack, his face drawn with contained fury, patches of colour visible on his pale cheeks. "We have discussed this before, Glory. She is not to be harmed. I have seen my fool of a son destroyed, but she is still my wife, damn you."

The Goddess snorted. "You're soft," she said from the fireplace. She stuck a foot into the flames and stirred up the embers. "I thought you were such a bad guy, but now, you're getting all sappy on the woman who double-crossed you."

"I would have been surprised if she had passively stood by and done nothing while I had an affair and gave you leave to punish our son for his insubordination," Lucius replied evenly. "She has been my wife for twenty-four years and this is not simply because she is attractive and exceptionally intelligent."

"She's been helpin' them, Luce!"

Lucius smiled coldly, lacing his fingers together before him. "I know," he said. "And I am rather impressed that she managed to deceive us for so long. I never expected her to have cunning enough."

"We don't know how much she told 'em."

"Also very true, my dear," Lucius said calmly, though the colour didn't yet fade from his cheeks. "She's a Ravenclaw through and through, despite her occasional bouts of wiliness. She could have found information we missed, relevant matters that we might overlook. She's far brighter than I."

"Wouldn't be hard," Glory groused, smashing a smouldering log in half with a sharp stamp of her foot.

"Temper, temper," Lucius murmured. "You forget that, of my wife and I, I am the one known for excessive trickery. Narcissa prefers to lean towards the intellectual approach with far too much reading and research and simply not enough action. I tend to find what I require at a certain time and use it, as it comes into my hands."

Brushing her hand down her knee-length dress, which had caught a few flickering embers, several smouldering holes visible in the red fabric, Glory scrutinised him with a keenness only ever visible in her shortly after she had fed.

"You're not tellin' me somethin', sweetpea," she murmured warningly. "You know how much I don't like that."

Lucius' smile was as ice. "Let us say I have a little surprise on its way, my dear," he said, splaying his hands on the polished surface of his desk. "It may take a week or two to reach us, but when it does, I believe it will be entirely worth a small wait."

As quick as the flick of a switch, Glory was smiling, clapping her hands together like a child. "What is it?" she demanded eagerly, bounding over to the desk and hopping up onto it. "Is it for me? Will it get my key?"

Leaning forward, Lucius patted her knee lightly. "You recall we have never been able to breach the school since we had the Slayer's younger sister?" he said. She nodded pulling a face. "And do you recall why?"

"Because they're dumb witches and wizards," she grumbled bitterly. "And they do all the hocus pocus and stop me from getting in and getting what's mine."

Lucius nodded patiently. "And you do recall, that in this world, there are creatures of all varieties, be they demon, wizard-kind or simply Mudblooded beasts?" he said, examining the back of one hand intently.

"Well, duh." Glory snapped. "What's this gotta do with anything?"

"Do you honestly believe that every creature in this world is susceptible to magic?"

Glory stared down at him for a long moment, then started to smile. It wasn't a pleasant expression. "Hon, I think I kinda like it when you pick out presents for me," she said brightly.

***

"If we keep going like this, sweetcheeks, we're going to run out of classroom space in a week."

Dark brown eyes scanned over the eighth, daily, blood-red rose since Valentine's Day which had just been delivered by a nervous-looking Dobby, then Cordelia sniffed and looked away.

"He's trying to suck up to me," she said, though there was something in her expression which belied the frostiness of the words.

"C'mon, hon, you can't still be mad at him."

Cordelia glanced back from the window at the demon, who was playing with two large and expensive-looking crystal balls. "I'm not mad at him," she said with a suggestion of a smile. "I'm just taking advantage of a woman's right to be a PMS-y bitch for as long as possible."

"And does he know this?"

Cordelia slid down from the windowsill as the first students started filtering into the classroom, hands on her hips. As ever she looked far too glamorous to be a stand-in teacher alongside the sky-blue clad green demon.

"Duh, Lorne," she said, amused. "He's known me what? Five years? And he's been out with me before. The only person who knows me better would be Angel." She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. "And maybe Wes."

"Women," Lorne announced loud enough for the newly-arrive students to hear. "Are not something I'm ever gonna understand, are they? I think I have them all worked out, then you do something like this."

The Seer lifted a shoulder, sitting down on the edge of the desk. "Would you really want to understand us, Lorne? I mean, really?" she asked, with a laugh. "If I didn't go all bitchy on him 'cause he only got me a rose, everyone would think something was wrong with me. I don't want people thinking I'm the big evil, do I?"

"You're not, are you?" An elegant brow arched. "Kidding!"

"Being the uberevil - so not my style," Cordelia replied with a dismissive wave of one hand. "I'm not a leather gal. The way things look, you have a choice; style or evil and, personally, I think I'm going to stick with style." She pulled a face. "Evil had no fashion sense."

Stashing one of the crystal balls in a small, velvet-lined chest, Lorne shook his head, trying not to smile. "We could start a fashion school of evil back in good, old L.A., honey," he said, raising red eyes to her. "Evil Style 101."

Giving him a measured look, Cordelia lofted that imperious brow again. "Lorne, if they were well-dressed, how would we tell who the bad guys were anymore?"

"You got a point," Lorne agreed. He cupped his chin in his hand, looking up at her, mischief in his eyes. "But look at your honey! Sweetie, for the love of Aretha, tell me what dimension of evil that wardrobe came from and how it can be beaten back!"

"Lorne!"

Around the filling classroom, a few of the pupils were trying not to laugh at the ongoing conversation. Needless to say, many of them were failing wonderfully, snorts and snickers muted all around the room.

"Hey, hon, you started this conversation down this dark and sinister path."

Cordelia's expression softened and she smiled. "That wardrobe may look evil," she said affectionately, "but it's totally Xander. He's always looked like a doofus." A thoughtful expression crossed her face. "Although he looks pretty good in a tux."

"Prom, right?"

"Oh yeah..." There was a wistfulness in her tone that hadn't been there before.

"And now, he's sending your flowers every day," Lorne remarked, reaching out to pick up the rose. His hand was smacked away by Cordelia. Several girls giggled behind their hands. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Okay, he's not one for big presents," she admitted, picking up the rose carefully by the stem. She sniffed it, then mock-glared at Lorne, "But they're still my presents and you can keep your flower-lusting, grabby hands off them, right?"

"Not even one?" It was almost embarrassing, seeing a full-grown demon pouting.

"Nope!" Cordelia patted him fondly on the head. "Now, are we going to get to the teaching or are you going to sit and pout for the rest of the day?"

Lorne tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. "Tough call, hon."

Cordelia rolled her eyes in the direction of the students. "And people wonder why we say demons are evil," she muttered, though not quite under her breath. "They try and steal your presents and make you feel guilty about it after."

Folding his hands on the desk, Lorne raised his eyes to the ceiling and started innocently humming something that sounded suspiciously like 'The bitch is back'.

"So," Cordelia raised her voice to drown out the humming. "Evil, green, fancy-suit-wearing, flower-stealing demons aside, I guess we're gonna talk crystal balls today, since that's all Lorne's been playing with since I got here."

"Hon!" the demon exclaimed in wounded tones. "Not in public!"

Pressing her fingertips to her forehead, as the forty-two seventeen year olds started laughing, Cordelia groaned quietly. "Remind me," she said, turning her most impressive glare on the demon. "To kill you very dead later."

Lorne just blew a kiss at her.

***

"I don't think they're exactly pleased with us."

A tousled red head lifted from the puffy pillows on the bed, drowsy green eyes squinting against the pale morning light, which became that little bit stronger when the curtains were flung wide open.

"Light! Evil light!" Willow protested sleepily, pulling the blankets and sheets up over her head.

"Nonsense," Hermione said briskly, closing over the window and walking back to the bed. Her normally bushy hair was reaching decorative-shrub proportions. Sitting down, she placed a creased parchment on the bed. "It's a fine morning."

"Gnuh..."

"Willow, honestly," One hand caught the blankets and, with a quick tug, left and opening, which Hermione's cool hand dived into. Willow shrieked as her lover's chilly fingers pressed against her warm belly, squirming away. "Do you expect to just lie in there all day?"

"Hermione!" Pyjama-clad legs flailed wildly out from under the sheets, arms tangled further in the cosy nest of blankets, a red-haired head popping out, cheeks flushed and expression indignant. "I don't like you."

"Liar," Hermione said with a smile, kissing her fondly on the nose. "But pleasure later." She held out the letter. "At least we know that Percy and Amy didn't kill each other now."

"Uh... oh..."

"You could say that."

Sitting up properly, pushing her hair back from her face, Willow took the letter with all the enthusiasm that an arachnophobe would show to an extremely cute and cuddly tarantula. "How bad?"

Hermione pulled her legs up onto the bed under her, tucking her nightshirt over her feet and shrugging. "Not as bad as I expected," she admitted. "It could have been a howler, which would have been a bit embarrassing to explain."

"Yay us, then," Willow scanned the scribbled words. "Hey! Amy wrote this! And she's saying 'we' about her and Percy... 'we didn't want to be set up'... 'I thought he did it and he thought the same'... 'we felt kinda dumb'..." Her brow rumpled. "Oh."

She looked up from the page, surprised to find Hermione smiling. "Turn it over," she suggested.

"'P.S. Thank you!'..." Green eyes went round. "She liked it?"

"So it would appear," Hermione's fingers tangled through Willow's, her face lit by a warm smile. "I just expect that Percy has demanded the masculine rites to be grumpy and petulant about being forced on a date, even if it is with someone he has had a crush on for months."

"Boys are silly," Willow flopped back on the pillows. She tugged at Hermione's hand impatiently, nodding towards the cosy spot on the bed beside her, amid the tangled knot of dark blankets and pale sheets.

"There are indeed," Hermione feigned ignorance.

A pale pink lower lip quivered dramatically. "Girls are too." she said petulantly.

"Mmm," Hermione's mouth twitched, a smile creeping around the edges. Her fingers slowly started wandering along Willow's hand and wrist. "Is that how you intend to lure me into bed, Miss Weasley?"

"Is it working?" Willow asked optimistically.

Withdrawing hr hand to snag her watch from the bedside cabinet, Hermione scrutinised the face, then yawned hugely and replaced it on the cabinet. "Well, I could do with a little more sleep and it is a Saturday."

"Sleep?"

"Mmm," Hermione agreed teasingly, lifting the blankets and slipping back under them. "I should listen to you more often."

"Don't I get smoochies?"

"Oh, do I have to?" Hermione sighed. Willow pouted spectacularly at her. "Oh, very well..." An arm slid around Willow, a contented red head settling on Hermione's shoulder. "Honestly, the things I have to suffer!"

"You enjoy it."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, kissing Willow on the forehead. "But then, it is commonly known that I am a chronic masochist."

***

"So, if you can have those essays to me by class on Monday," the Slayer's voice rose over the ruckus of thirty children scrambling to pack their bags in record time and get back to their common rooms, away from schoolwork. "And don't listen to a word I say, then. I don't mind. Really."

Chuckling at the desk as the class disbanded, Giles didn't even look up at her when she turned on him.

"What's funny?"

"I'm just recalling how very like them you were when you attended High School," he said, his quill scritching across the parchment he was writing on. "And close your mouth, Buffy. You must recall that I saw you through three years of Sunnydale High and these children are nothing compared to you."

Her protest stifled, Buffy hopped up to sit on the desk, looking down at him. "But," she said, a pouty note in her voice. "I did have a real good excuse. Saving the world meant I had to skip classes. And handing in papers late... and... uh... missing tests... and I should probably stop talking now, huh?"

"Perhaps," the former Watcher looked up at her with a smile. "And now, here you are, teaching and being ignored along with the rest of the faculty, though I believe you garner marginally more focus and attention than anyone else."

"Be-cause I'm the Slayer and could throw 'em out the class for real?" she hazarded, leaning sideways to look at the paper he was reading, which certainly wasn't anything of a classroomy type.

Giles smiled. "Well, that and you are very young and pretty by the standards of the teaching staff," he reminded her. "I hardly believe it likely that Professor McGonagall has as vast a fan following as you seem to have among the pupils."

"Giles! That's gross!"

"What is?" Giles asked, bewildered.

"Kids. Crushing on me!"

"Ah... I do see your point, there."

Buffy shuddered, then snatched the paper from his hand, tilting it into the fading vestiges of daylight that were slanting dustily through the tall windows. "More of those weird protection spells?" she asked.

"More documents on the destruction of Glory," Giles corrected, negotiating the piece of paper from her fingers. "The translation is taking some time, but it appears there is some mention of a..." His brow rumpled. "I-I think it is speaking of destroying the vessel, but I could be mistaken."

"The vessel?"

Rising from the desk, Giles rubbed his forehead with the back of one hand. "Yes," he nodded distractedly, reaching for one of his books. "Yes... the vessel will contain her essence, her life force if you will."

"And vessels are like vases, right?" Buffy's boots clicked on the stone floor as she slid off the desk. "Weird magic vases. You use 'em in spells and things; vessels of bloods and stuff." If anything, Giles' bewilderment increased and he turned to gape at her and Buffy stared at him defiantly. "That's what Willow's old books said."

"I-I see."

"And if it is just a vasey thing, no big!" she continued merrily. "You just get a rock or something and smash it."

"I think, perhaps, this may be a different kind of vessel," Giles interrupted gently, opening a hefty book and placing it down on the desk. He scanned the contents as he spoke. "It would have to be complex and full of magic. I doubt Glory would-would leave it unprotected."

"So... it would have magic in it?"

"Most likely," Giles agreed, closing the book and stacking another two on top of it, then picked the small mountain of literature up.

"Okay. So I was right about tha... hey!" Giles froze where he was trying to edge his way passed her, a desperate mask of innocence plastered on his face. "Where are you going? We've got a load of papers to finish marking!"

"I-I... er..." His glasses quivered, sliding down his nose. "Well, you see, we really rather need to find the solution to this Glory problem and I-I-I thought you might like to mark the essays for once, since you did set the questions."

"So you get to do all the Glory stuff and I gotta mark essays about..." A scroll was picked up, unrolled and the Slayer groaned. "Werewolves? God! Why can't Oz be around when you need him?"

"I'm sure you shall be fine," Giles said, before beating a hasty retreat to the door and disappearing from sight, as Buffy grumpily sat down in the taller of the two teachers' chairs, pulling the pile of scrolls towards her.

She was only interrupted as sunset crept over the castle, washing the whole room in shades of gold, by Dobby slipping into the classroom and providing a plate of food as she worked.

That was her last distraction until the hinges of the heavy door squeaked, loudly, lazily and deliberately and the Slayer didn't even need to look up to know who would be - doubtlessly - looming in the doorway.

"Actually doing some work for once, are you, Summers?"

"Not like you'd recognise it if you saw it, Mister I-Make-Soup-For-A-Living," she retorted, laying her quill down and leaning back in the seat, her spine cracking painfully as she did so. Still, it was said with a smile. "You miss your evening dose of bitchiness or something?"

Snape stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "Do stop being so glib, Summers," he said, stalking the length of the classroom and placing his hands on the desk in front of her, glowering down at her.

"But it makes you all loomy," Buffy replied, grinning. "It's almost scary."

"Summers, I am here regarding a theft."

Buffy groaned. "Look, you're the one who said Dawnie could do the potions thing and if she doesn't get to buy the potiony... stuff, she has to get it from somewhere, so it..."

"Summers, do shut up. I was referring to my wardrobe."

Hazel eyes blinked innocently. "Someone stole that great big wardrobe? How'd they get it out the door?"

"Summers, you have long since failed to convince me of your virtue," Black eyes bored down at her. "I am not stupid. I cannot imagine anyone else would have the nerve or gall to enter my private chambers, remove all my clothing thence and replace it with this!"

He gestured emphatically towards the deep, deep green robes that were so dark they looked almost jet black. Silver and emerald threads tastefully wound around the collar and they were clasped shut by a narrow, silver chain, which appeared to loop around matching coiled silver serpents before his sternum.

"It's nice," Buffy offered, smiling guilelessly at him. "I like the buttons."

"Summers." He glared impressively at her.

"D'you like it?"

"Summers."

"I liked your ones that you let me have."

"Su..." Snape's voice trailed off and he looked momentarily shell-shocked. Of course, it took him only a moment to regain his stride, glaring at her. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Snapey!" Buffy laughed. "Giles slipped up and told Faith where I got 'em, which is kinda weird, since Giles is usually good at being secret man, but I guess Faith has a way of asking..."

"Giles told Faith? And you believe her?"

"Sure," Buffy smirked up at him. "She knew it would make you glare if you knew I knew." The smirk melted into a genuine smile. "I just wanted to kinda... y'know... give you something nice back." There was the briefest of hesitations, then the fashion-conscious Californian he despised popped back out brightly. "That and you wear way too much black."

"Have you ever considered I might like black?"

"Is this the same kind of like you used to have for not washing your hair before I got here?" she inquired, pointing a quill at him. "Its not like I forced you to wear those robes, y'know."

"You stole the rest of my clothing, you intolerable little wretch!"

"Yes," Buffy said. "But, I didn't make you wear the robes, did I? You coulda gone without them, but you wore them and now," Her smile dazzled him. "When you got your clothes back what? Two weeks ago? I can't help noticing you're still... kinda wearing them from time to time."

"That's hardly relevant." He scowled at her again.

"Sure, Snapey," Buffy granted him a broad smile, her eyes twinkling. "You were just way too 'busy' glaring at students for staring at you to even stick to your 'I'm evil and loomy' black ensemble?"

His arms folded imperiously. "Precisely. It would have roused more questions."

"More than the shock of 'Omigod! Snapey owns different clothes!'?"

"Oh, do shut up, you little brat."

Buffy grinned. "Love you too, Snapey."

Severus blinked at her, his face slackening, eyes darkening. He looked genuinely shocked, as if she had punched him in the chest. It lasted less than a heartbeat, then he was glaring at her again. "I do not know why I even attempt to tolerate you, you irksome, infuriating, under-dressed... Colonial!"

The Slayer grinned at him. "You're as bad as Giles with the insults," she said. "And, speaking of, d'you wanna help mark some essays that he ran out on?" She rolled her eyes. "He says he's looking for a way to save the world. I think he just doesn't know what they're about."

Snape snorted. "You honestly believe I would voluntarily expend my valuable time on you and your aggravating company to correct the infantile scribblings of your moronic class?"

A quill was held up to him and Buffy said, "You're here now, aren't you?"

"Not the point." Snape growled, though he did pick up one of the scrolls that she was marking, then flashed a look at her. "And you call yourself a teacher?" He pulled up Giles' vacant chair, grabbing the quill irritably and correcting her marking. "Good God, woman, do you even know a thing about werewolves?"

Buffy pulled a face. "Hello? Best friend's boyfriend was one?"

"That doesn't answer the question." Snape's eyes glittered by the light of the candles on the desk and he reached over, dipping his quill into the ink. "I hardly consider 'they drool and are covered in hair' as an acceptable answer. How Dumbledore imagines this will adequately equip the children for adult life, I do not understand."

"But they do drool and they are covered with hair," Buffy retorted. "I think that's pretty good for a kid to know."

"As we suddenly find that Pavlov's unfortunate dog has been shot with silver bullets by over-zealous students, convinced it is a werewolf when all it was seeking was a meal," Severus shook his head, his lips thinning into a line.

"They shot some guy's dog?"

At the horror in the Slayer's voice, Severus smirked. "Do you truly know nothing, Summers?" he drawled, turning his head to look at her.

"I know I can kick your ass, Mister I-think-I'm-a-bad-ass," Buffy countered.

"And I'm sure it will be of great satisfaction to both of us," Severus sniffed dryly, collecting another scroll and unrolling it. "Now, would you mind actually doing some work as, I recall, these are your essays."

"Jerk."

"Hussy."

***

"I'll have you know that we really are terribly annoyed with you."

"Yeah!"

"We didn't ask you to interfere!"

"What he said!"

"It-it-it was very presumptious and-and-and..."

"Annoying?"

"Yes! Annoying of you to do such a thing!"

Seated on the opposite side of the table in The Three Broomsticks, trying desperately not to smile, Willow and Hermione looked thoroughly unashamed of their behaviour, while Percy grew ever more flustered.

After the evening meal, just as the sun had started to set, both witches had pulled on warm cloaks and made their way down to Hogsmeade on the request of both Percy and Amy, who 'want a word with you'.

An owl had arrived from them that morning, exclaiming indignantly that they both felt their affairs had been meddled. At least, this was according to Percy, who said he was speaking for them both and would have done earlier, had not work delayed him considerably.

It took all Willow's restraint not to write back and remind him that his work, as he called it, was actually still the supposed rehabilitation of a certain witch by the name of Amy Madison. It would have made it all too easy.

All Percy's bluster came to nothing, really. Amy's initial owl a few days after the 'friendly meal', suggested that he thought otherwise, but, of course, Percy had a reputation to maintain.

The quartet had acquired the table closest to the fireplace in the middle of the pub, discarding cloaks as the warmth seeped through to their chilly bones and they quickly acquired large mugs of warming butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta, the early spring nights still cold.

"Is that everything?" Hermione said sweetly, when Percy stopped for breath, his cheeks blotchy with colour. "We're bad and terrible influences and are attempting to give Fred and George a run for their money on the trouble front?"

"Um... it seems to be."

Willow grinned impishly at him. "But, Mister Righteous-indignation, we can't help notice you two are making with the snuggly-wugglies anyway," she said. Both he and Amy blushed deeply. "Hey! You even match when you blush!" She gave Hermione a wistful look. "That is so cute!"

"You didn't need to do anything!" Amy protested, though she too was having difficulty masking a smile, her hand snugly nestled in Percy's. After all, she had to show loyal nine-day-girlfriend solidarity, even if she wanted to hug the two witches and squeal thank yous very loudly.

"Yuh-huh!" Willow countered. "If we didn't do anything, you'd'a been waiting for Ron to ignore you the rest of your life and hey! Percy's a sweetie, even if he is a bit rules-are-my-best-friend boy."

"Thank you very much," Percy said grumpily.

Amy leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "I like it," she said. If was possible, hues of puce, scarlet and violet edged into the ruby bloom that was poor Percy's face.

Willow clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the "Awwww!"

"Willow Weasley," Hermione said, laughing. "You really are the softest, sappiest most hopelessly romantic ninny that I have ever encountered."

Willow pouted. "But look at them," she mumbled, waving in the direction of her brother and his girlfriend. "They're so cute and blushy and Percy is getting nice, happy smoochies of a not-evil kind..."

'Blushy' did not quite entirely encompass the term needed to describe the sunset that Percy's face now eclipsed.

"You know, Willow," Hermione said, studying him with earnest consideration, her brown eyes gleaming with amusement. It only made Percy shift and darken in colour even more. "I have this odd feeling that we might be embarrassing your brother."

"And people think you're nice," Willow giggled, swatting Hermione's arm. "You are way too mean."

"But I'm good at pretending otherwise," Hermione sniffed disdainfully, then turned a smile on Amy. "So, Amy, you're involved with a Weasley now. How does it feel to be joining the ranks of the insane?"

"Hermione!"

The witch smiled innocently over the rim of her mug, ignoring Willow's squeal of indignation. "I mean, I've been connected with two and I must admit it takes a certain level of lunacy to get involved..."

"Why do you... er..."

"Love her?" Willow finished Percy's question, mock-glaring at her lover. "I don't know. I think its cos she always brings me ice cream and you gotta love someone who brings you ice cream."

"Don't forget the big bathroom," Hermione put in helpfully, flicking Willow's auto-blush mechanism.

"Evil," Willow moaned quietly, ducking her head and letting her hair fall over her face. "Evil, evil, evil."

"What's evil about the big bathroom?" Amy asked, looking puzzled when Willow whimpered, hiding her face in Hermione's shoulder. The older witch examined the ceiling, smiling slightly.

"My girlfriend," the muffled reply came from Hermione's sleeve, as the innocent smile turned decidedly less innocent. "Is an evil, evil, mean and evil person. Don't let anyone else convince you that she isn't."

"And yet, you are still involved with her," Percy observed, receiving a glare from his little sister.

"I'm a Weasley," she mumbled. "We're dumb when it comes to picking not-good snuggle-buddies and staying with them. Look at Ginny - she got super hero guy. Bill got the freaky-deaky I-can-keel-you-wis-my-good-looks French girl. Fred and George's girlfriends are crazy. And Ron..." She pulled a face. "He was dumb enough to fall for this wicked witch."

"Yes," Hermione said, her expression earnest. "Two down. Six to go."

Willow turned accusingly on Hermione. "You wanna mentally scar me, missy?"

Hermione smiled warmly. "Every day," she said, before kissing Willow.

Across the table, there was a whisper; "Do we have to be that crazy?"

"Not unless you want to."

Hermione smirked, meeting Willow's eyes. "Give them time," she suggested.

Willow grinned. "Big ol' duh there."

***

"Not good!"

The yell preceded the crash of Xander tumbling out of the fireplace directly into the large study room, knocking over a small table and sending papers cascading all over the floor. He was closely followed by Cordelia who landed on top of him, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Of course, the seriousness of the moment was shattered when at least a dozen large shopping bags and boxes tipped out of the fireplace, on top of the sprawling pair on the hearth rug.

After nearly two weeks of flowers and chocolates, Xander had sprung a surprise shopping trip down to London on his girlfriend, with a little help from Anya - who had refused to take no for an answer - and Dumbledore - who had quite agreed that Anya made a very good point and could they possibly look into a little red dress that said ex-demon had been looking at last time she and Dumbledore were there?

Whisking her off to Diagon Alley via the Floo network and booked into a rather classy hotel establishment, they had been gone for three days and weren't expected back for another two. It had taken weeks of planning. Everything had been arranged perfectly. Nothing could have gone wrong.

Except, of course, the need to help save the world always put a bit of a nix on any serious romance.

The few people who were close at hand, of the standard Sunnydale and Hogwarts research party, looked as startled as each other, McGonagall getting to her feet. "Miss Chase! Mister Harris! What brings you back so soon?"

Cordelia looked up, blood trickling from her nose. Dark hair hung about her face in tangled curtains, giving her a strangely feral look.

"No headache, but vision and nosebleed," she said quickly, staggering upright. She sought out Buffy, but not seeing her nodded to Xander, who took off running. "Big skanky evil in little town." She said tersely, gratefully accepting Giles' handkerchief. "Not far. Willow and Hermione are there..."

"Hogsmeade," Giles said in shock. "Minerva?"

"I'll be with you, not defending for you this time, Mister Giles. Understand?"

The determined smile said it all as the remaining members of the group scattered out of the door to gather weapons and supplies. Cordelia sagged down into a chair, dabbing at her nose.

"Always the bleeder, never the bleedee," she grumbled to herself. "And it had to be when I was shopping. Thank you PTB."

Meanwhile, Xander was running as fast as he could through the halls, pushing passed students and taking stairs three at a time, both up and down, somehow, to reach Buffy's classroom. He fell through the door, panting, face a deep shade of red.

To his breathless confusion, he saw Buffy had Snape sitting beside her, scowling at her darkly, and clearly, they had been arguing about something, but were both staring at Xander.

"What...?" Buffy began to ask.

"Cordy," Xander panted, leaning against the doorframe, one hand pressing to his heaving chest. "Vision. Hogsmeade. Glory. Willow and Hermione..."

Before he had even finished speaking, the clatter of heels told him Buffy was on the move. She snatched a sword and an axe, striding towards the door, her expression grim and set.

"Summers, don't you see this is a trap?" Snape's voice cracked through the tense air like a whip.

"Yeah," Buffy said, looking back over her shoulder at him, tucking the axe into her belt. "But I'm not about to let my friends get killed." She hurried towards the door, only pausing to say, "You two find Faith and Gunn and get to Dawnie. Make sure you keep her safe, okay?"

"Of course," Snape said, swiftly slipping out from behind the desk.

Xander nodded at once. "Go, Buffy," he said.

With a grateful smile, Buffy started to run, students parting before her like the sea before a particularly good prophet, her boots clattering on the stone as she ran, her hair whipping around her face and her midnight blue robes flaring behind her.

She couldn't help but smile as she broke out into the grounds, dispersing pupils stopping and staring as she picked up speed across the silver-washed lawn, the moon rising like a gleaming coin in the cloud-threaded sky.

This was what she missed, when she was teaching. Not the impending death and blood and everything, but the chase and the fight. And, she mused as she ran, if you're gonna be a super-hero, you gotta do it in style and nothing says style like a sword, a flaring cloak and wind-tossed hair.

"Professor Summers!" a male voice called from somewhere above her.

"Running here!" Buffy yelled back, not even breaking stride. "You wanna tell me something?"

"Raise your hands and don't struggle!" the voice shouted back, the owner now recognizable as Sirius from the rough growl in the intonation, though his words were getting cut off by the wind rushing past her face.

"Right!" Slowing marginally, Buffy stuck both hands up, uttering a yelp of surprise when two hands wrapped around her wrists and easily hoisted her off the ground. A quick tug brought her up and flung her practically into Sirius' lap.

One arm went around her waist to steady her. Sirius dug his heels into Buckbeak's sides, the Hippogriff rising sharply, wings beating the air. "We thought this might be slightly quicker than walking," he offered, giving the Slayer a quick tug to help her sit upright in front of him.

Clutching at him, the shrill, icy wind getting colder as they rose higher, she dared to glance down at the patchwork landscape that was getting further and further away, her stomach leaping horribly. "High!" she squeaked.

"You tend to find the sky is," Sirius laughed, then nodded sideways to what should have been open air. "Brought backup along as well."

Flanking them on either side, Giles and McGonagall were both mounted on broomsticks, Wesley holding on behind Giles and Spike clinging to Professor McGonagall for dear life.

Despite her shock at suddenly being hoisted dozens of feet into the air, Buffy couldn't help staring at Giles in astonishment. "You're on a broomstick, Giles!" she exclaimed. "You! On a broomstick!"

Giles grinned at her. "I am a wizard, you know," he replied, then jerked his head downwards. "Hogsmeade, directly ahead." Sirius and McGonagall both nodded and all three plunged into a steep dive, leaving their passengers desperately clutching at them in hopes they might be able to stay on.

***

Crouched behind a fallen oak table, Hermione on one side and her brother on the other, Willow's hands were shaking with rage and terror. "All I wanted was a nice, normal evening with my girlfriend," she moaned.

Hermione laughed tightly. "Oh, do come on, Willow," she said, leaning sideway to peep out around the edge of the table, ducking back as a spell crackled through the air, narrowly missing her head. "What fun would that be?"

When half a dozen large and spiky demons had invaded the Three Broomsticks, most of the clientele had done the wise thing and fled for safety, Madam Rosmerta screaming obscenities at the invaders as two of her burly employees had hoisted her off the ground and run towards the back door with her.

Unfortunately for the quartet who had been right in the middle of the quiet pub, by the time they rose, all exits were blocked by the nasty-looking demons. Percy had pushed over the table and they had all dived for cover, wands pulled out, outrage overriding the initial fear.

"Do either of you know any group shield spells?" Amy whispered urgently, yelping and pressing in closer to the trio as a sharp corner of the table was sheared off above her head, smoking.

Above them, one of the flickering lanterns dropped, shattering on the floor. A tongue of flame caught the edge of a tablecloth, which burst into a flare of light a heartbeat before Hermione launched a spell at it, a hiss and steam rising.

Willow swung her wand over her head and blasted a banishing charm over the top of the table, the crackle of flame-coloured light making a fleshy sound as it apparently struck. There was a yowl of pain and the sound of glass breaking.

"How many points was it for the window?" she asked, as Hermione popped up and struck with another stunning spell.

"I don't know, but I just got one through the pine door, which has to be worth more, simply for the solid factor," the brown-haired witch said smugly. She glanced at Amy and asked, "What was that you were saying about group shielding spells?"

Amy grabbed a piece of the fireplace that had been blown to pieces, hurling the piece of rock over the table and whooping as it smashed into an unfortunate demon's head. "Shielding spells," she said. "If all of us can do it together..."

"Our kind of magic isn't like that," Percy said grimly. He had already taken down three demons that had dared to look at Amy the wrong way, his hair mussed and his glasses askew. "That's why we have wands - we direct our own magic."

Willow groaned. "Why is it we need my kinda magic when we don't have it?" she asked faintly. Another spell hit the wall above the table, one of the few wizards trying his best to reach the table.

"Maybe just this once, we can try things you way," Hermione blasted another flurry of spells over the table, a fresh group of demons squeezing into the ruins of The Three Broomsticks.

"But you know how crazy my magic gets," Willow started to protest.

"Crazy magic or getting out of here alive..." Percy caught her hand and squeezed it. "Given the choice, I know which I would prefer, Willow." She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head. "Willow, we need to have some kind of protection. We can't hold them off much longer. Amy doesn't have a wand and goodness only knows your focus is hardly exceptional with yours."

"Thanks," Willow pulled a face. "So, we're goin' for the big wandless mojo, huh?"

"If it works quickly, I think we need it," Percy said wryly.

Willow nodded, her face pale, but her expression determined. "Okay... Hermione, you and Percy keep 'em off our back and me and Amy'll get some kinda shield up if we can. Just make sure you guys are touching us when we're doing it or you'll get left outside."

The older witch nodded at once, squeezing aside to let Willow and Amy kneel opposite each other, both closing their eyes. Softly, barely audibly, they started to chant, both of them shaking as they gathered the magic to them and directed it as they needed it.

"Oh no..." Hermione whispered. "Oh no..."

"Give up, Miss Granger," the familiar, mocking voice was clear, even over the growls of the demons surrounding the wizard. "You honestly believe you can hold back my little army for much longer?"

"Did you know he was involved?" Percy hissed.

"Technically," Hermione replied, glancing back at Willow and Amy. Both of them were wide-eyed, perspiration beading on their pale faces, their pupils dilating, almost seeming to encompass their whole eyes.

"Petrificus totallus!"

Hermione swung back round to see Lucius Malfoy, stiff as a board, tip over backwards. It almost appeared in slow motion, his fall and landing, striking the wooden floor with a loud smack. "Percy!" she exclaimed in surprise.

The third Weasley son grinned bashfully at her. "I never liked him," he confided, then gasped as some kind of powerful blast blossomed out around him and Hermione, whirling to stare at Amy and Willow.

A glowing corona had swollen into a three-metre dome around all them, pale and transparent, both the Sunnydale witches sagging and panting with the effort of conjuring the barrier.

"Done," Willow croaked faintly.

And it was barely just the nick of time, several demons charging at it and getting blasted backwards by some kind of force, which left them scattered, though doing nothing but keeping them back and making them angrier.

"How long will it hold?" Hermione asked, wrapping a supportive arm around Willow's body.

"Not long," Amy panted out. "I haven't done magic in a long time and Will..."

"I didn't want to push too much... in case I couldn't come back..."

"Don't worry," Percy said, reaching over to grasp her hand, gasping as a ripple of electricity sparked from her fingers. "As long as it holds a little while, we'll be all right."

"We can't do anymore magic until its gone, though, because it shields magic from all sides," Amy added urgently, peering over the table. "And that wizard-guy looks really pissed off."

Four heads rose over the top of the table in time to hear the shout of "Avada Kedavra!" from the restored Lucius Malfoy, spots of angry pink on his pale cheeks, two more wizards by his sides adding their wands to the spell.

Percy and Hermione ducked on instinct, but Willow just grinned weakly at him and waved a hand, while Amy giggled. The spell simply crackled over the dome of light, rendered utterly harmless, bathing them all in a reddish glow for a moment.

"It won't hold for ever, you little bitch," Malfoy hissed. "And when it falls, do you honestly think you'll be strong enough to hold all of us off?"

"No," a cheerful voice said from behind him. "But that's what I'm here for." As he turned, a fist caught him under the chin. He hurtled across the room, screaming as he struck the shield, wild magic sparking over him and he crumpled to the floor.

"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed in relief.

"Couldn't just leave you here to have all the fun yourself, huh?" Buffy grinned, then nodded to the barrier. "Nice. You wanna just stay in there for now?" Even as she was speaking, she was taking on several demons. "It looks cosy."

"Probably a good idea," Willow said, sagging against Hermione and sighing with relief as five more figures entered the ruined tavern, each of them bearing wands and weapons, which were wielded to great effect against the demons.

"Uh... oh..."

Buffy groaned as a dozen more demons spilled into the room, as the two wizards regrouped over their fallen leader, grabbing him and vanishing with a loud crack, the small knot of fighters surrounded on all sides.

"Willow! Drop the shield! We have to help!" Hermione cried, the red-haired witch already doing so, both witches scrambling upright, Percy close behind them as they struck out at the nearest demons.

"You know what I really hate about traps?" Buffy said conversationally, ducking a huge, clawed hand.

"What might that be?" Wesley inquired, firing a bolt from a crossbow into a fleshy pink eye, grey fluid oozing from the wound as the demon shied back, bellowing with fury and pain.

The Slayer brought down the sword and dispatched the clawed hand with a drop kick as it kindly fell off its owner's wrist. "I hate that they're so damn trappy," she said, taking care of the demon's other hand.

"So eloquently put," Giles said, tight-lipped. "You realize we're terribly out-numbered, don't you?"

"Oh yeah," Buffy acknowledged, diving under a fleshy stump to knock Sirius out of the way of charging demon, though a sharp-scaled limb caught his chest, ripping through the shirt and flesh. "But I'm not letting them know its getting to me." She looked down at Sirius, beneath her. "You okay?"

"Bleeding like a slaughtered pig," the man said tautly, but still managed to grab Buffy and roll then from beneath the lunging claw again. "I'll be fine."

"Doesn't look fine."

"He smells all right to me, Slayer," Spike flashed a grin over at the fallen man.

"Bite me, Spike," Buffy retorted, though her grin was brittle as she struck out with the sword and axe again.

"Maybe later, ducks," the vampire said, his eyes glittering. "When Minnie isn't around. Don't want her getting jealous now, do we?"

Minerva, who was hexing as fast as she could, threw a scathing look at him. Her dark hair had come unpinned and was spilling around her face, her robes torn and her face streaked with blood. "Don't flatter yourself, Billy," she said drolly. "Professor Summers, I do believe we might die soon, unless you have a rather impressive escape plan hidden up your sleeve."

"Not on my shift," Buffy growled. "Willow, is Glory here?"

Willow shook her head in the negative, grabbing Hermione's hand and blasting a surge of white light at two demons. "She was, but then she left," she said breathlessly, nodding to the door. "Left her little wizards here."

"Okay. Probably gone after Dawnie... and so deciding I don't like wizards much."

"Excuse me," Giles cleared his throat, stumbling upright from the ruins of the tables he had just been thrown into. He was bleeding from a wound at his temple and his left arm was hanging loosely by his side.

"Nothing personal, Giles," Buffy grinned tautly. Her robes had been thrown off as soon as she had leapt off Buckbeak, to allow her freedom of movement, her shirt and pants soaked with blood and mucus. Her face was smeared with gunge and she looked more like a native warrior than ever before.

"What are we going to do?" Amy's voice was trembling as she smashed a chair over the head of the demon, which was grappling Percy.

"Keep on fighting," Buffy said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's what we always do." Decapitating one of the demons she looked around at them all. "We've never lost before. We won't this time either."

"You always were one for the dramatic speeches, weren't you?"

At the new - and familiar - voice, Buffy slowly started to grin in earnest. Dodging a dozen blows, taking down another of the hulking creatures, she shot a look towards the three new arrivals standing in the doorway, the first speaker currently holding a demon by the throat and squeezing, another delicately cleaning some blood of a furry half-paw, half-hand and the third...

"Oz!" Willow gasped, staring at the furry and clawed young man, who smiled back at her, then amiably tackled the demon who had tried to catch her off-guard, tearing out its throat with ridiculously strong jaws.

Buffy couldn't help laughing as the two half-morphed werewolves joined into the fray, battling her way over to Angel, as he started lashing out at the vast monsters right along with her.

"You took your time," she said, tossing her sword to him and swinging the axe back to catch another attacker under the jaw.

Brown eyes blurred into gold as Angel spun the sword and grinned toothily at her. "Better late than never, huh?"