by Houses

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Chapter 21

For a moment no one said a word. Silence is a funny thing, you never really notice it until it slaps you in the face, whether in shock, horror, or in this case disbelief. Willow could see it etched clearly on the faces of the people she considered family. Before she had a chance to interject anything constructive, however, the silence was broken by nearly everyone speaking at once.

"No way!"

"Willow, what does he mean?"

"Dear lord, the castle…"

"Wicked!"

"Draco Malfoy? Wow, that's unoriginal, but hey, it works with the wardrobe- all black and sinister. Kinda like Dracula. Do you have any idea how many Draculas I've killed?" Buffy's sharp voice drowned out the rest of the vocalizations and everyone turned her way, including the aforementioned Draco.

"Excuse me? Did you say 'unoriginal'? I assure you, madam, that I am the only one." Draco arched one pale, elegant eyebrow and slid his wand out of his sleeve. Willow took a deep breath and laid her hand on his arm, sending nothing but soothing thoughts his way.

"Guys, listen. He really is Draco Malfoy." She shook her head as Buffy opened her mouth again. "I think Giles already figured it out…" She motioned to him as he busily polished his glasses.

"The castle that Anya saw? My supposition is that it was Hogwarts, the magical school portrayed in the books. When Willow mentioned that we may not believe where she had been, it is quite likely that she was anticipating this sort of reaction. Who would have thought that she'd spent the last months trapped in a book? Though," he added thoughtfully, still polishing away, "weirder things have happened to us." He shook his head with a slight smile. "Is that about right?"

Behind her, Willow could hear some sort of choking sound, and knew Draco was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Buffy's arms were still crossed, but Dawn was finally smiling, well, smirking may be a better description. Willow's heart wept at the sight; it had been too long since Dawnie had anything to grin about. She offered a tentative smile in return.

"Yeah, Giles, that about sums it up. I've been staying at the castle, continuing my studies, until we could find a way for me to return…" Her voice faded as Draco mentally snarled behind her. An intense wave of irritation and possessiveness flooded over her from him and she turned her head to hiss at her lover. "Draco, love, I know you're confused, everyone is. But hang on and let me explain." He bristled but held his tongue as she turned back to the group. "The books are real, in another reality. I feel asleep here, I woke up there. Nothing bad happened to me, I promise. I talked to Dumbledore and Minerva at length about this, and we agree that however weird it is that they are fictional characters in our reality, they are very much living people in theirs."

Draco couldn't keep quiet any longer. "I'm a character in a book! What sort of book! What are you talking about?" His eyes were wide with something approaching desperation. Gone was the legendary Malfoy coolness. He flicked his gaze around the room before grabbing Willow's shoulders and spinning her around to face him. "Snape said you'd have to explain something to me. This is what he meant, isn't it. For Circe's sake, Firestarter- he knew! You told him, but not me." The utter betrayal behind the silver eyes wretched at Willow's gut. She raised her hand to touch his cheek but he grabbed her fingers first and yanked them down. "All those little comments you didn't want to share, all the hints and avoidances, they were about this." He threw his head back in frustration. "You knew all about me before you showed up, didn't you…" He shook her hard. "Didn't you?!"

Buffy started forward to yank Willow from his grasp, but Giles held her back. He could see the tears running down the redhead's face, the evident pain mimicking what he could see in the young man in front of her. He hadn't paid much attention to the books when the gang had all read them, but from what he remembered, the relationships between the characters were complex and volatile. And whatever she had done while she was gone, she obviously shared a close bond with this Malfoy fellow. They needed to work out their problems without outside interference. Over Buffy's head, he caught Xander's eyes and motioned him to take Buffy's other arm. The carpenter did so, while looking intently at his childhood friend.

When Draco shook her again, Willow snapped back. "Draco! I couldn't, not then. And things happened so fast. It's not like you were all with the honesty and forthrightness! Hello! Anima Conligato much!" She glared at him and the grip on her shoulders relaxed somewhat. "I wanted to tell you, God, you have no idea how much. It just hurt… and not even Snape knows it all."

He snarled, "No, not all, but enough. He told me about his little trip through your past." Willow blanched. "Right. Not what you expected is it? See, I wouldn't be here without him; old Dumble wouldn't let him come but he still wanted to. Did you know he was working to send you home?" His face was inches from hers, his voice dropping with each syllable. The rest of the room leaned closer to hear. "Just in case. But it's me that's here to take you back. Never forget that you are mine," he concluded almost tenderly, "just as I am yours. Always." Willow bowed her head and gripped his hands with her own.

"Wait just one darn tootin second." Xander released Buffy and stepped forward, shaking his dark shaggy hair. "She belongs to you? You're taking her back? I have to agree with Buffy on this one. She's not going anywhere; she's home. What gives you the right?"

The young wizard's head snapped up and he fixed Xander with a fierce silver eyes. "Xander is it? I believe it is Willow's choice. I have the means; I'm only waiting on her word."

Puzzled, Willow said, "How did you know who he was? I haven't introduced them yet."

He smirked and pulled out her wallet as he motioned around the room. "Buffy, Xander, Dawn, the other gentleman from the mother country is Giles, Anya, and you must be Spike. There are pictures in her wallet, which we thought she may want back. The only one not here is Tara. Spike wasn't pictured, though he wasn't hard to guess, since you called me by his name when we first met. He's the only one around with hair remotely like mine." The room gaped, and looked at Spike in unison. He threw up his hands.

"What!"

"Well, that about covers it then." Buffy still wasn't impressed. "You know who we are, and we know who you are."

Warily, he shook his head. "I don't think so. I know faces, but I know nothing about you. Willow didn't mention her past very often, other than explaining who Tara was." At Tara's name, the room stiffened, but seeing no dramatic display of destruction and carnage from Willow, they relaxed. He continued, "So, you're all witches and wizards then." Willow froze. She knew he could feel her tension, but he hadn't figured out why. In their discussion about meeting his family, her family hadn't come up. She knew that he assumed that she came from magical stock, and if he found out, he wouldn't be happy. She looked at her friends somewhat helplessly as Dawn took another step closer to the couple, a wicked glint in her eye.

"Actually, no, Draco."

Very carefully with utmost control over his flaring temper, he responded. "So you are all muggles then?" The disgust dripping from his tongue was nothing compared to the revulsion simmering below the surface of his psyche making Willow feel ill.

If possible, Dawn's smirk became wider. Willow felt as if she was watching a slow moving train wreck; her two worlds were colliding and there was nothing she could or would do to stop it. Dawn chirped brightly. "No, we're not muggles. Well, no one but Xander." She ignored his indignant snort. "Magic and Xander do not get along."

A perplexed expression flitted across Draco's face and he tilted his head, the silver of his bound hair sliding over his shoulder like mercury. "So not wizards or witches, and not muggles. What then?"

Twirling the ends of her shiny hair between her fingers, the teenager lilted back at him in a sing song voice, pointing to each person in question as their name came up. "Buffy is a Slayer; Giles is her Watcher; I am the Key; Spike is a vampire; Anya is a 1200 year old vengeance demon."

He couldn't help it. Draco burst out laughing. "Oh that's too much. Wonderful. You call me an imposter and you expect me to believe that? A Slayer? Of what, shopping sprees? Watcher? What does he watch, and do I even want to know? And vampires and demons, please." His humor faded when he saw the serious expressions on their faces. Willow sighed and turned to Buffy.

"I think we should show him. He deserves to know." Buffy regarded her for a few heartbeats before nodding.

"I don't know what he is to you, but it's obvious he needs some sort of explanation if he's a part of your life. So here goes. I'm the Slayer. That means I have more than mortal strength to fight the demons and vampires that infest this reality." She opened the weapons chest behind the loveseat. She pulled out an intricately etched sword and swung it around a few times. "I have been trained for years by my Watcher, Giles here, who instructs me in martial arts as well as mystical ones. He's the closest thing here to a wizard. He does all sorts of magic stuff." She put the sword down at Draco's skeptical look and rolled her eyes. "Don't even start with the tiny and dainty routine." She picked up the fireplace poker and neatly and effortlessly bent it into a knot. "I always wanted to do that." She smiled as his eyes got a little bigger. "The others can tell their own tale."

Dawn raised her hand. "I'm the Key. I used to be a big ball of magical energy, almost since the beginning of time, until these monks made me into a human girl a few years ago. I can't do any nifty tricks, really, but my blood does open portals." The atmosphere in the room became considerably sadder at that reminder, but Spike took up the story next.

He stood and walked a few feet away from Draco. Though the younger man was inches taller, he still drew back as Spike leaned near. "I am a vampire." With that, he suddenly morphed into his demon visage. Draco visibly jumped and whipped his wand out. Spike shook his head and the ridges and fangs disappeared. "But I'm playing for the white hats these days, so don't worry. I won't make you dinner." Draco paled even further but didn't make a sound. He turned wordlessly to Anya who was practically bouncing on her feet.

"You so ruined the surprise, Spike," Anya pouted. "I am Anyanka, patron saint of scorned women, though the title vengeance demon works well too. I grant wishes."

Before Draco could respond, Willow slapped her hand over his mouth. "What ever you do, never ever say the word W.I.S.H. around her. Bad things will happen." He nodded, eyeing the perky young woman with barely disguised panic.

"Fine Willow, tell everyone why don't you. You know I don't work in Sunnydale. Anyway, women wish, I dish. Besides," she shimmered for a second and her face became veiny and splotchy, "who could resist this face!"

That happened to be the last straw for young Mister Malfoy. He scrambled over the easy chair in an effort to get away, all the while projecting incredulity and betrayal at his lover. Wild eyes turned her way, and he choked out, "I just can't," before apparating. Willow stared at the place he'd been before sinking to the floor on her knees, her head in her hands. The rest of the room was shocked into silence once more. Buffy stepped forward and laid her hand on Willow's back.

"Wils? What just happened?"

Sniffing, Willow drew her knees up to her chest and murmured, "He's only a few blocks away. He doesn't know the area, so he's still close. The corner of Asbury and Round Hill." Buffy yanked her hand away.

"How do you know that?" Her hazel eyes met Willow's green ones and she frowned at the myriad of emotions flickering through them. "Willow, does this have some thing to do with the dragon on your chest? Is he the one you were talking about?"

Miserable, the red head nodded. "Anima Conligato. Soul Bound. We can feel each other; know where the other one is and what they're doing. It's sort of like having someone in your head and heart all the time."

Giles added softly, "Is that all?" Willow stilled cautiously but eventually nodded. The watcher narrowed his eyes in disbelief but let it slide. "So that's how you know where he is now?" She nodded again.

Buffy sighed and rocked back on her heels. "Willow, I know you must still be exhausted, but we can't leave him out there, magic guy or not. He doesn't understand how dangerous our world really can be." She looked down at her friend who turned glassy eyes her way. "You and I have a lot to talk about, missy, but we'll have to wait until we get your pig headed friend back. Come on, Spike, let's go rescue Draco from himself." She grabbed a few stakes and motioned to Spike as he picked up his ax. Before she walked out the door, however, she turned back to Willow. "I have to ask though. It's been a few years since the last book, obviously, since there was no mention of Draco the Hottie." At Willow's nod, she continued, "I need to know- is he still evil?"

Xander knocked over a drink from the table as he choked out, "Buffy! Do you really have to ask that?" Willow reached up and laid a hand on his leg.

"No, Xander, it's fair. You don't know anything about him, really. The books weren't exactly accurate all the time, especially since they were about Harry not the others. But believe me when I say he's no more evil than I am." She looked at Buffy when she responded but the words were directed to the room at large. The slayer tilted her head and regarded Willow closely before carefully weighing her words in response.

"That's what we're afraid of, Wils. I know Giles said you were better, but we just don't know. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. Dawnie was a bit harsh earlier, and totally unfair, but…" she shrugged, "We have to wonder."

Before Xander could open his mouth to protest on his friend's behalf once again, Willow interrupted him. "I know Buffy." She looked down at her hands for a moment before rubbing her chest lightly. "But I stand by what I said before, however you wish to take it; he's no more evil than I am."

The slayer nodded and proceeded out into the night Spike at her side. Willow watched them for a second before turning to her childhood friend. "Xander, I -"

He cut her off with a sharp hand motion. "It's ok, Wils. You look exhausted. Maybe it's time to get you back up to bed. Buffy will find him and we'll get this all sorted out in the morning." She nodded and squeaked softly as he bent down and swooped her up in his arms. She clung to his neck, trembling slightly as he carried her up the stairs.

The rest of the room watched them go quietly, and as soon as they were out of sight, Giles began furiously polishing his glasses. Dawn and Anya sat on the couch, neither saying a word and after a moment, Giles joined them. The three sat there in stillness, listening to the sounds of the night, lost in their thoughts.

Chapter 22

The Santa Anna winds blew through Sunnydale, dry and hot, making the late fall night restless and fitful. The town was far enough away from the dense smog of Los Angeles that the stars were clearly visible and he gave them a passing glance as he strode down the quiet streets. Despite the brisk breeze, the air was close and Draco wished he'd worn lighter robes. Not that anyone he passed while aimlessly wandering was wearing robes. They all seemed to be attired as Muggles, much to his chagrin, though no one looked askance in his direction. It was rather odd, he decided, that no one met his eyes, or seemed remotely curious about him, the pale haired stranger in their midst.

Stranger, yes, that's what he was. He couldn't shake the knowledge of different, other.

He snorted when he remembered how jealous he and the other Slytherins had been when Potter and his crew had gotten all the attention for their adventures. It wasn't just the attention; it was the knowledge that he, too, was capable of noteworthy things. At the time they might have been things like plotting the death of Potter, plotting the eventual arrest of Dumbledore, plotting his initiation into the Death Eaters by accomplishing all of the above. Unrealistic and ridiculous as those plans had been at least he had been dreaming. And he had known, even back then, that he could do more. All Slytherins have ambition, but it was a rare few that had the wherewithal to get it done. And get it done he had. He'd gotten the girl, and now he was here trying to get her back. Now that he was on an adventure worthy of Potter's Prats, he wasn't sure all this adventure stuff was worth all the hype.

No, that wasn't fair. He knew what he was getting into, mostly, and from what he could tell, Willow had not. She'd just been dropped, without warning, into his world, knowing no one. He at least knew her. Or thought he did. His stomach turned when he remembered exactly why he was wandering down an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar dimension alone… in the dark. The dark that apparently held things worse than he'd ever expected to face outside of a Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

He pulled his cloak tighter, despite being a trifle on the over warm side and glanced over his shoulder before finding a bench on the side of the road near what appeared to be a small park. It was deserted this time of night and the streetlights shone off the metal swings and play gyms. The breeze sent the merry-go-round softly squeaking in its orbit, slowly turning round and round. Echoes of children playing teased at Draco's mind, and he shook his head to clear the sensation of watching someone else's memories.

He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head to his upraised hands. With a groan, he stretched his shoulders slightly and closed his eyes. He couldn't believe that the dance and the binding would have gone as smoothly if they weren't in some wacky cosmic way supposed to end up together. She'd even said as much that morning; they'd be dead if this wasn't ordained by the lost spirits. Surely they would have known what she was? A Mudblood at best, friends of demons and vampires at worst…

It was karma. It had to be. Karma for all those taunts and jeers to his less pure-blood inclined peers. Wouldn't Granger be having a field day now if she knew; come to think of it, she probably did know. That would explain why the two of them were so close, despite the Slytherin induced animosity that her fellow Gryffindors were only too happy to embrace. He clenched his fists in frustration, slamming one down on his thigh sharply.

"This is not happening." Despite the authoritative way he spoke the words out loud, nothing appeared to change, so Draco went back to brooding. And what he heard about wishing in this world, he'd never say the word W.I.S.H again. Ever. But there was no way around it. He wasn't leaving her here, not in this world with these hostile people that called themselves 'friends'. He meant what he'd said earlier, no matter how revolted he was right then, he hated to lose what was his. Snarling softly to himself, he rubbed his temples and dropped deeper into his thoughts. He was so absorbed he didn't see several lean, hungry shapes coalescing from the shadows and make their way in his direction.

***

Xander gently sat his friend down on the bed. Willow raised puffy eyes his direction and mumbled a quiet thanks. He settled to the foot of the bed as she climbed in the covers with a yawn. Willow looked around the room, so familiar yet not. Like a skin stretched over the wrong body. The window where Buffy and Angel used to sneak kisses were open, and Willow could see Spike's stalking tree blowing in the wind, boughs swaying back and forth. There were a few pictures still tacked to the mirror, mostly ones of the three of them from high school, leftovers from Buffy's original room. Her own things were neatly stacked in the closet, but there was nothing in the room that said 'Willow'.

She wasn't that surprised, since she originally moved in with Tara, and most of their decorating had been done together. Still, the near sterility of the room unnerved her. She expected to see butterflies and parasols from the previous occupant, but there was nothing. Nothing to make it hers, or anyone's. It reminded her of her parent's home, how things were meant to be untouched. It was almost like growing up in a museum, things were not to be disturbed: no raucous children, no loud teens. She found herself longing for the now comfortable familiarity of the castle: the friendly paintings, the warm tapestries, the continuous bustle of students.

Snapping her out of her reflection, Xander spoke, "Sorry about downstairs, Wil. That's not how we wanted to welcome you back."

The redheaded witch smiled faintly. "I know. It wasn't the way I intended to come back either, but it happened. And it's alright, really." She yawned again, then scrunched up her nose as a particularly strong wave of disgust came rattling through the link from Draco. "I really wish I could turn that off. He's making me seasick."

"No off button then?" Xander's asked curiously.

"Dunno." Willow's eyes cut across the room, avoiding Xander's face. He frowned and pressed again.

"What do you mean, dunno? You're Willow, you figure things out; it's what you do."

Smiling a bit tentatively, she hugged a pillow to her chest before responding. "Actually, I haven't really had any time to learn much about it. See, it's sort of new."

"How new?" He could almost guess the answer, but wanted her to say it.

"Last night actually."

Okay, so maybe he didn't think it was that soon. Masking his surprise he tried to sound casual. "The tattoo thing is from last night?"

Still avoiding his eyes, Willow shook her head. "Yup. Brand new me." With a huge sigh, she continued. "Actually the whole thing is new. The Draco-me thing. We're new. As in less than 24 hours new."

Xander's eyebrows inched up till they disappeared beneath his shaggy bangs. "Um, wow. And he came all this way for you. Dude must really love the Willow-lovin."

That elicited a grin, and Willow nodded. "Yeah, I'm getting that impression. Though, I suppose we've been dancing around this for a while. He was there for me when no one else was, which was sort of odd for him." She reached out and touched the back of Xander's hand. "And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't jump all over him when he comes back. If he comes back…" The miserable, exhausted look crept back on her face, and Xander sighed.

"We really didn't handle him showing up well at all did we?"

The diminutive woman's face twisted into a wry smile. "No, not really. But then again, it is sort of weird. People you think are fiction all of a sudden come waltzing into your life having some sort of connection to the friend you used to have."

"Not just the friend we used to have."

"Oh, Xander, I heard Dawn. You all may not say it, but you think it. I saw it every day on Giles's face before I left, and I see it now. Even on you, my bestest bud." Tears glistened in her eyes again. "But I understand." She paused briefly before continuing. "And I hope that you all will too someday. I'm not her, that Willow that broke the crayons, but I'm not the scary veiny Willow either. I don't know what I am anymore, but I'm trying to figure that out. And I think Draco is a large part of it… and Snape too, of all people."

Xander blinked. "Snape?"

With a roll of her eyes, Willow gestured vaguely. "Yeah, Snape. It's a whole big complicated thing…"

The dark haired youth leaned back and looked his friend over carefully. Seeing for the first time what she really was, not who he wanted to see, and he was surprised. She was no longer someone barely holding it together. Sure, she was exhausted to shaking, but she was also exuding a quiet strength, something that overrode the huge circles and puffy eyelids. He climbed up the bed to sit next to her, slowly drawing her back into his arms for a hug. Willow let out a huge sigh and wrapped her slender arms around his torso. Xander smiled to himself. "So, do you love him?"

She stiffened noticeably, and for a moment he was afraid she wouldn't answer. "I don't know. I honestly haven't thought about it. For so long I was just trying to survive the day without Tara. He was always there though, just outside my vision." She barked out a sharp laugh. "Literally it turns out, the sneaky coyote. Anyway, things just sort of happened. Then they really, really happened. I can't even begin to comprehend how. And here we are…" She snuggled closer. "Now I'm not just surviving, I'm… living. It took him to yank me back, I think." Sighing softly, she tucked her hands under her chin. "That's all I can say. Right now I want to rake his sorry hide over the coals. He's being awfully pissy…"

Xander grinned and ran his hand over her hair. "Yeah, I totally get that. But remember it can't be love without the desire to do your loved one in with a hatchet at one point or another."

She let out a huff of amusement before drawing her breath to speak. "Speaking of hatchets and loved ones, what's going on with you and Anya. And Buffy and Spike even!"

Xander's groan rumbled through his chest, vibrating Willow's ear. "Well, we'll start with the dynamic duo first. When he first came back I tried to stake him. That did not go over well at all with Buff, who sat me down and explained what really went on between them. Seems we all got a bit off track last year in the relationship department. So, I promised to try not to stake him, and then we found out about his soul. He didn't want to say, preferred to have us think he just lost his mind for the sake of it. Turns out that demons can see souls, and when he and Anya saw each other for the first time, the cat was out of the bag."

He could feel Willow's smile through the rough fabric of his shirt. "So, then I got to feel all bad about trying to off the only other souled vampire in existence. It's not as easy to tell Spike and William apart as it was for Angelus and Angel. They act pretty similarly, except for the little things. I'm sure Buffy will be happy to tell you all about it some time, but they're not together like they were. I think both of them have grown up, and Spike and Buffy both have some serious guilt to work through. It was months before he could be around her without breaking down. But now they have it figured out, and it's amazing to see them work together. Course, half the time I still want to stake him."

He tilted his head down to see Willow's face and was surprised to see her eyes were closed. Her body was way too tense to be asleep, however, so he continued. "Anya and I are… working on things. She managed not to get me vengeaneced into bits, and we now have a really strange relationship. We actually went to a movie together last week, and things were fine, but I dunno. I can't blame her for not trusting me."

"Trust's a funny thing Xander." Willow rolled her neck so she could look him in the eye. "Sometimes I wonder if it really exists. If it does, how could we do the awful things we always seem to do to each other. I did some terrible things, and I know I have to learn to trust myself again before I can make things better, before I can begin to ask for forgiveness." She became suddenly quiet, chewing on her bottom lip until it was ragged. Faintly, as if she didn't want to be heard, she went on. "Most of the time, I don't want forgiveness since I don't even feel guilty. How awful is that? That sometimes I see the faces of those I hurt and I can't seem to find it in me to care?" She could feel as much as hear her friend's sharp intake of breath. "And other times I can barely breathe, I'm so suffocated with memories. Not just the memories of Tara's death either. Other people too, take Dawnie for instance. I see her face when I close my eyes, her face in Rack's den, terrified and disbelieving all at once, and I want to die. It would have been better if Warren had killed me instead!"

She burst into tears, clenching her fists in Xander's now damp shirt. Shocked, all he could do was hold her tight and let her sob. Fierce and hot, her guilt soaked through the cotton, leaving scalding salt trails down Xander's skin. He stared out the window as he held her, knowing nothing he could say would ever make it better.

Outside the door, Dawn hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head against the wall. Eavesdropping was a habit she'd never managed to break, and now it came back to haunt her. She'd set Giles up on the pullout couch in the living room after Anya left, and now she was scrunched close to the door to Willow's room, trying not to hear her sobs. No matter what her outburst early had indicated, she was relieved that Willow was home. Finally, she could put that part of her life behind her. Now, though, she sat trapped in the memories, just as Willow was, her own tears running silent down pale cheeks.

***

A few streets away, Draco sat in the dark. The insects were starting up their nightly symphony and he was struck again by how different it was. This time of year at home, he'd be bundled up inside, trying not to get wet. Maybe he'd be at Quidditch practice, his fingers blue with cold. Here, however, he was beginning to sweat. With a sigh, he loosened the robes. Suddenly, he heard a stick snap behind him, and he turned to look. Several sets of glowing yellow eyes looked back and he stood, all the color leaving his already pale face. Before he could slide his wand from his sleeve, however, the foremost demon pounced.

Chapter 23

Draco dodged the first attack with considerably more luck than skill. He threw himself backwards, tripped over the curb and face planted on the cement. Luckily, the vampire missed and Draco scrambled out of the way, furiously working to yank his wand out of his pocket. As he tried in vain to stuff his hand through his tangled robes, he desperately sorted through everything he'd learned about vampires in his last DADA class.

Stake, stake, wooden stake? Iron stake through to the ground? Water? Can they cross water? Can I find water? Holy water? Can I get holy water? Do I even know a priest? What else- what-

With that he was lifted forcibly off the street and slammed into a nearby Live Oak. The vampire had him by the throat, and Draco pulled at the fingers tightening around his windpipe fairly ineffectively. It was at this point he came to a realization that this particular activity wasn't anything he was interested in repeating. The dueling club back in second year was pathetic preparation for any actual conflict and he wished, again, that he could pound Lockhart into pulp. It didn't appear that the nice vampire who was currently choking him to death had any desire to let this be a fair fight, take ten steps and let Draco cast curses till the sun came out. Weirder even than that, it obviously could care less that he was a Malfoy, and thereby above turning into a midnight snack. To prove Draco's latest, most unpleasant theory, it snarled and smacked him across the jaw.

"Look, boys! He wants to have a food fight… Isn't that cute!" The demon laughed and tossed Draco aside like a rag doll. He hit the park bench with the left side of his body, and heard something snap. With a groan, he struggled to sit up, only to be kicked to the side once more. "Must be new here, too stupid to know that sitting in a park at night is just asking for trouble."

Gasping, Draco crawled across the ground on his knees, trying to gather his wits to apparate. Unfortunately, as soon as he was clear, a strong wave of guilt and grief washed over him from Willow taking his breath away. Even he wasn't so arrogant that he believed he could apparate without splinching given the condition he was in. With a snarl of his own, he stood up once more, wobbling slightly. He couldn't ever remember feeling this much like he'd been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs, not even when his father had been displeased and had shown him 'proper respect'. The blood started to run down his cheek, warm and sticky. Draco grimaced

The vampire laughed again and motioned to one or two of his cronies. "I'm getting bored. Bring him; I'm hungry." The two minions of choice stepped forward even as Draco edged backwards slightly. He wasn't stupid; he knew his odds were looking pretty pathetic. And worse, Willow was miserable wherever she was, and he could do nothing about her pain. Draco raised his chin in a version of his father's famous sneer and stood taller. Before the two vampires could rush him, however, a new voice broke the night air.

"Hey! Lay off my friend's Sensitive Pony Tail Guy! She wants him home in one piece." With that, Buffy launched herself at the attackers as Spike yanked Draco to one side. Despite being momentarily disgusted by the contact with a demon, Draco decided discretion was the better part of valor and followed Spike to the other side of the playground. Draco collapsed heavily onto a low bench better suited to watching children play than the death and destruction that unfurled in front of him.

The slayer moved with a grace and speed Draco couldn't fathom. He was absolutely convinced that his eyes were playing tricks; no human could move like that. Buffy was pure music in motion, flashing to and fro, kicking and punching. Her blond hair, loosely bound, swirled around her like sunlight.

Spike took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, raising a sardonic eyebrow at Draco's stare. The Slytherin choked out, "Shouldn't you help her? I mean…"

Spike shrugged. "Why? She doesn't need it and she's a bit wound up about earlier. Last time we messed around with portals she died." He rolled his shoulder with seeming negligence. "So you'll forgive me if I let her work out her issues on her own."

Draco blinked. "Died? As in, not of the living?" Remembering who he was talking to, he edged a bit further down the bench the bleached vampire sat them on. "Um, you did mean dead dead, not undead right?"

Flicking ash from the end of his cigarette, Spike nodded. "Yeah. Someone tried to drain Bit's, that's Dawn's, blood to open portals to other dimensions. Buffy threw herself into the portal to stop the monsters from getting through. She died." He bowed his head momentarily, squeezing his eyes shut against the inevitable pain that memory brought. "And then Red brought her back."

"Erm, right. My head of house mentioned something like that, but…" He raised his hands a bit helplessly.

"You didn't believe him." Spike turned to look Draco straight in his silver eyes. "She did. Raising the dead, months dead at that, is no mean feat. Red is an amazing person, but she's only human. And I swear to whatever gods you believe in, if you hurt her, I'll rip your pale throat out and feed you to the nasties over there." He waved at the considerably diminished group of vampires.

Buffy used the swing set to spiral around and impale one of the undead Americans on an outstretched tree limb before flashing Spike a bright smile. The vampire shook his head but continued to watch the destruction playing out amongst the jungle gyms and sandboxes as he continued. "And I know there's more between you two than the little witch said. I can smell it on you, you're not covered in each other's scents like you would be if you were just shagging like bunnies. You're part of each other now. When she came through that portal tonight, she didn't smell right, and when you followed her through, I knew why. She's been altered, and so have you, I'd wager. I can smell her on you now, but it's as if I can smell her tears and rage." He finally turned to look at an utterly disconcerted Draco. "And why would that be?"

Shaking slightly, the younger man replied, "She's upset. Crying about Dawn I think… something about what happened last year." He clenched his fists together. "But I can't read it all."

Satisfied for the moment, Spike nodded and took another drag. The fight was winding down and Spike leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The band of vampires was no match for a determined slayer and with their leader and most of the back up in dusty piles in the playground, the rest turned and fled. He sighed and straightened up. He gestured for Draco to come with him as he strode across the sandlot.

"Luv?"

"It's cool, Spike. Let's get our little lost lamb safe home again." She walked over to where Draco was still sitting on the bench, sort of staring off into space. Buffy stopped a few feet away and put her hands on her hips. "I think we broke him." She waved her hand in front of Draco's nose and grinned as he snarled and jerked back. "Wow, Willow sure knows how to bring home Mister Congeniality." She turned to her vampire and jerked her head in Draco's direction. "What's his problem? We came, we slayed, we saved. What else does he want?"

Spike's lips twisted up in a bit of a smirk and he tilted his head at the obviously irritated wizard. "Dunno. Maybe we interrupted a good brood. You know- the kind that Peaches used to inflict on everyone?" Buffy smacked his arm. "What?"

"Draco, I know you're a bit overwhelmed, but it really isn't safe for you out here." She looked at his bruises critically. "And you should probably get your face cleaned up. You're going to have an impressive shiner in the morning, not to mention some lovely strangulation marks." She smiled a bit wryly. "Welcome to the Scoobies!"

At that, Draco finally snapped out of it and stood up. "Scoobies?!? You are all mad, you have to be. Or I am. That's it, I've finally gone bonkers and I'm hallucinating all of this. Standing in a California playground in the middle of the night while demons and monsters end up as large piles of dust." He blinked and looked around. "So, you guys do this often?"

With a grin, Spike slapped him on the back, frowning at Draco's wince. "Yup, bout every night." Draco paled.

"Every night?"

Buffy nodded. "Yup, every night. For the last, what… seven years, give or take a bit and some time off for oh… death… or mental breakdowns. You get the idea." She started walking back in the direction she came.

Spike took an unnecessary breath and added his two cents. "Every night. And as long as she's been in Sunnydale, the Scoobies have been with her. Just Xander and Willow at first, with Giles, and later others. The dog boy, Peaches, soldier boy, demon bird, cheerleader, the Bit, Glinda. That's why she lived so long." Buffy tossed back an irritated 'Hey!' but Spike continued. "I get that you have issues with non-magical folk, but around here that's not worth a hill of beans. Either you're dinner, or you've got some impressive survival instincts, magic or not. Just you watch and learn, boy."

Draco bristled. "Boy? What, you've got to be no more than ten years older than I am." Buffy barked out a laugh in front of them.

"Actually, I'm about 130 or so. Don't rightly remember." Draco stopped moving to stare at the duster covered man. "Hello- vampire? The reason you had your little freak out and vanished?"

Shaking his head, Draco could only stare at his two companions. "I still think I've lost my mind." Buffy coughed and conceded that, yes, it was a very likely possibility. Draco growled, "Don't rub it in."

Inclining his head slightly, Spike looked at Draco intently. "Speaking of magic, why didn't you use any? To fight the vampires?"

"Mywandgotstuckinmyrobes," Draco mumbled. Buffy blinked before bursting into giggles. Spike must have been right; killing things definitely did improve the slayer's mood.

"Your wand got stuck? That's what you get for wearing a dress out at night. Yup, definite wand stickage issues." She started giggling again. "Or why didn't you do that neato disappearing trick?"

"Didn't want to get splinched." He sighed and poked tentatively at the bruise forming on his cheek. "What kills them anyway? The last professor we had that claimed to have offed any creatures of the night turned out to be a big phony, so I'm not sure what would kill vampires, or anything else lurking about out here."

"Wooden stake through the heart, holy water, fire, decapitation, and sunlight for vampires. The rest is sort of on an individual basis. You should be able to manage at least fire with your wand, and if not, you could always just use it as a stake or something."

Nodding, Draco fished around in his pockets once again only to let out a loud groan. Out of his robes he pulled two pieces of his snapped wand. "Bloody well perfect. Now what?!" He tilted his head back and yelled. "Enough already!"

Buffy crossed her arms. "Are you quite finished?"

"I'm having a rather strange night."

"So I see." She sighed, "Draco. We're really sorry about back at the house. It's just that things were tense when Willow left, and then with her disappearance…" She bowed her head. "We've got some unresolved issues, but we shouldn't have jumped all over you. Anya and Spike, you'll just have to forgive them. They are demons after all. That doesn't mean they shouldn't know better." She elbowed Spike hard in the ribs and he mumbled sorry.

Draco was still staring at his wand. "Are we close to your home, Buffy?" The petite blond nodded. "Cause I really think I should get Willow to fix this."

"Why?" Spike was looking at him intently again.

"I just want to get it fixed that's all. If we're going to run into any more creatures of the night, I'd like to be prepared."

Buffy nodded and kept walking while Spike took another long look before following. Draco had to trot a bit to catch up, which did nothing to improve his temper. One small grace at least was that Willow seemed to have calmed down. Draco raised a hand to touch the willow tree on his chest and grimaced. This certainly wasn't how he imagined a rescue attempt. There wasn't coat of armor or a shining white steed anywhere in sight. Sure, he understood that he wasn't the most likely candidate for the Hero, most Slytherins weren't, but he hadn't expected anything like what he'd gone through.

For one, the feeling of terrible disconnect from his surroundings was only getting stronger. These people, they had lives he couldn't even fathom. To face destruction every day, the possibility, and actuality, of death looming at every corner, he just couldn't comprehend. His Firestarter, his Willow, lived this. And all he'd done with his life was smattering of dark magic and played Quidditch. To say he felt a little inadequate was a vast understatement.

In front of him, the slayer and her vampire were walking close, though not touching, and whispering to each other. He couldn't blame them. He really wasn't Mr. Congeniality, whatever that was, on the best of days. And it had to be odd to have people pop into your living room with no warning. From what he could gather, he was lucky she didn't do one of those highkicky stab things on sight.

He sighed and picked up the pace. Lining the road were houses full of people, lights shining warmly out of curtained windows. He could see families inside and eating, laughing; doing whatever it was the Muggles did at home. It was an eerie feeling. Inside they were safe, outside, not. He called out, "May I ask a question?"

The pair turned, a look of curiosity passing between them. "Yeah?"

Draco waved at the passing houses. "What about them? They don't look afraid. Don't they know? Don't they care?!" Buffy's shoulders slumped.

"Welcome to my thankless world. As far as 'they' know, the things that go bump in the night are imaginary, and the town has an abnormally high number of gang on PCP attacks and gas leaks. It's part of the whole superhero thing, no cape but they still don't know. Not most of them anyway."

Spike grinned, reminiscent of the old Spike that had a deep and personal relationship with railroad ties. "That's the beauty of it; the humans in this world don't want to know. Rather live and die in their precious little bubbles of security. Reckon it's the same with witches and wizards in your world. Bunch of semi-explainable events get racked up with fog lights or mass hysteria."

"Or Oblivate charms…" Draco muttered. "So, it's the idea of 'if I can't see it, it doesn't really exist' theory on life."

"Yup, that about sums it up." Buffy turned into a neatly groomed front yard and climbed the steps to a nice looking, very American, ranch style home. "Welcome to Casa Summers. Er… again. We thank you in advance for using the door this time." Draco's lips tilted up in an almost-smile and he followed her into the house.

The only person left in the living room was Giles, who sat up a bit befuddled as they came through the door. "Buffy, Spike, Willow's friend. Glad you're back… and mostly in one piece." He swung his legs off the sofa and sat up. "Anya left a bit ago, and Dawn's gone to bed. Xander is still up with Willow."

Buffy nodded and disappeared down the hallway. Draco stood awkwardly for a moment or two before Spike rolled his eyes and walked across the room, plopping into an armchair. "You know you can just sit down."

Smiling a bit stiffly, the wizard sat down with a grimace. "Are they always that rough?"

"Nah. You just got a bunch that liked to play with their food. Usually they'll just kill you straight up." Spike had to suppress a snicker as the young man blanched. Buffy reappeared with a medical kit and crouched down in front of him.

"I'll patch some of this up, but you should be alright in a day or two, provided nothing's broken. Can you move everything? No feeling of suffocation or anything else cracked ribby?"

Draco blinked. "Can't you just do a spell, make it go away?" Oblivious to the decided chill in the room his comments generated, he nattered on. "Madame Pomphrey usually just has us drink something foul and Presto! We're fixed."

"No, Draco. No healing spells here. You've got to do it the hard way."

"Well, you could at least let me ask Willow," he said, flinching as Buffy disinfected the cut on his face and added a Band-Aid. She shrugged.

"If you want. Her room is the second on the left upstairs." Buffy started to pack away the medical supplies stiffly.

None of the room looked at Draco as he slowly climbed the stairs, wincing. He started down the hall, only to nearly trip over the Dawn girl, crouched on the floor. She started up, furiously wiping her cheeks. "What!"

A bit taken aback, Draco retorted, "Willow. I'm looking for Willow."

"Duh. She's in there." With that, Dawn brushed roughly past him and darted into her room. He recoiled a bit, shaking his head at her reaction.

The door to the room was closed, and he rapped lightly before pushing it open. As he did, he froze. His Willow, his Firestarter, was curled up on the chest of that… Muggle… asleep. A wave of nausea and disgust washed over him and he closed the door with a sharp snick. Almost shaking he made his way back to the living room to meet the gazes of three very interested parties. He clipped out, "She appears to be asleep."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, she looked pretty tired. And for that matter so do you. Where are you going to sleep tonight? With Willow?"

He bristled. "I think she has enough companionship for one night." A small frown creased Buffy's brow as she thought for a moment.

"Xander? He's harmless, just go wake them up and tell him to go home."

Draco glared at her. "I think not. Do you have somewhere else to sleep?"

Spike stood, stretching. "You could always come home with me. Xander's got a pullout couch."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not." Draco didn't do a very good job concealing the disgust and trepidation that fleeted across his face. Spike shrugged.

"Suit yourself, mate. I'll come by tomorrow afternoon, Buffy, Giles." With that, he walked back out into the night. Buffy and Giles exchanged glances and Buffy stood up.

"Well, there is one more place here, since Giles is sleeping on our couch. Spike keeps a cot in the basement for sunlight emergencies, and the sheets are clean. Come with me." Almost radiating hostility, Draco had little choice but to follow her through the kitchen to the basement. She flipped on the weak lights and trotted briskly down the wooden stairs. "We use this as training room some now too, since Willow went and destroyed the Magic Box. They're still doing repairs, and when it's finished we'll move back there. Until then, you'll have to watch the equipment." Draco picked his way around a punching bag, pommel horse and a few other sundry items. "There's a rough bath that way that Xander installed earlier this summer, since we always seem to have more people than toilets. Here's the cot, and an extra quilt is on the washing machine."

Draco eyed the cot with evident distaste. It was low and metal with a single pillow, wide enough for a single person. There were chains attached to the wall above it and lining the wall to its left were several nasty looking weapons of various types. He raised his eyebrows and burst out, "Here! You want me to sleep here? It's… uncivilized!"

Whirling on him, hands on hips, Buffy arched an eyebrow herself. "No, Draco it's practical. And if you don't want to go to Xander's it's what you're going to deal with. Now suck it up and get over whatever crawled up your pale ass. If you don't like it, do something about it." With that, she turned and stomped up the stairs, muttering about rude English pissants in her basement. She slammed the door at the top of the stairs and Draco was left alone.

He looked at the bed, and pulled the two broken pieces of his wand out of his pocket. He uttered a strangled sigh and sat down heavily. He could almost see the creepy crawly things scuttling around the corners of the basement, and he prayed whatever they were would leave him alone. This was worse than the dungeons. For the first time since he could remember, there really was nothing he could do about it. He groaned and lay down, burying his face in the pillow. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 24

Soft singing wove through the air, surprisingly warm for winter. Willow opened her eyes and saw not the bedroom that until recently had belonged to the Slayer, but a beautiful glen of leafy green trees and soft grass. She was still lying down, and after a moment realized that her head wasn't pillowed on cotton and feathers, but warm silk. She rolled her head, and looked into Tara's bright eyes.

The blond smiled softly and continued crooning. She ran her fingers lightly over Willow's hair, tracing the line of her neck to her shoulder. At the edge of Willow's collar, she stopped and nodded slightly.

"Hey Willow."

"Tara." The redhead blinked back tears, but instead of the blinding grief she usually associated with Tara's memory, there was only a calm sadness. Tara's lips twisted up in a half smile. "Are we really here?"

"Am I? Of course. Are you? Only temporarily."

Willow scrunched up her nose. "Am I having another one of those Slayer dreams?"

Tara dimpled and let loose a peal of laughter. "No, silly."

"Oh, good. I told the gloomy potions guy that prophetic dreams weren't for me." Turning her head again, Willow looked out across the meadow.

"Oh, I never said this wasn't a prophetic dream, only that it wasn't a slayer dream. You're not the slayer."

Freezing, Willow snapped her eyes back to her former lover's. "What did you say?"

With a huge sigh, Tara began stroking Willow's hair again. "I'm a messenger Willow; I have been borrowed before. You have work to do."

Frustrated, Willow snapped, "I know! You said that last time. Of course, you also didn't tell me what it was." She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

"There are things that only you must do. If you don't, the one you left behind will be lost." Across the meadow, a lean black shape crawled out from under the bushes. The fox stopped in the shade of a sweet olive and curled its tail over its nose, coal black eyes peeking over the soft fur. The image fluttered and smeared. The fox stretched and twisted until Willow could see Snape, his head bowed, standing over a bench of some sort, stirring something with one hand, the other pinching the back of his neck as if to relieve some pain. He half turned his head, and his hair slid across his cheek, lank and heavy. Willow almost cried at the look in his eyes; such sadness and loss… a man giving up. The young witch balled her fists into the thin silk of Tara's skirt.

"No," Willow whispered. Tara continued stroking her hair, until Willow's fists relaxed. "I'm back in Sunnydale finally. Finally!"

"Willow-"

"No! I can't… I don't even know what to do!"

Whispering, Tara answered, "But you will. And without the night and day, you won't be strong enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Willow faced away from the depressing image of Snape and his potions to half glare up at the blond witch. Tara merely smiled enigmatically. "Can I stay here at least a little longer?"

Her smile turning sad, Tara rested her palms on Willow's cheeks. "You have someone waiting for you."

"Draco? He's being an ass; he can wait!" Willow pouted and raised her own hands to cup Tara's, who had a decidedly wicked look on her face.

"Oh, I don't know. He's really kinda cute."

"What?"

"And reminds me of Spike… Blond, British, hyperactive, superior, and they've both nearly killed you."

As their eyes met, Willow froze. "You know?" Tara nodded and the redhead took a huge breath. "This wasn't how… I mean…"

Gently, Tara traced outline of the dragon through Willow's shirt. "Shhh, it's alright. And he would never have harmed you. Daylight can be blinding if you're not prepared."

"Huh?"

"I'm happy for you, Willow. Nothing ever works out the way you want it to in the end. But that's half the fun of living- finding out what's around the next turn." Tara gestured to Willow's feet. "Besides, he seems to be very loyal." Willow pushed up on her elbows to find a sleek coyote crouched at her feet. His silver eyes sought hers, and she jumped slightly as it bared its teeth, the late light shining off bright incisors. Tara raised her hands, and the coyote backed down, watchful eyes missing nothing. She smiled. "And now it's time for you to go." At Willow's stricken look, she relented. "But that doesn't mean you can't come back… you know, when I have something else cryptic to drop on your lap."

Willow finally smiled, reaching up to run her fingers gently down Tara's cheek. As Tara bent to place a soft kiss on her lips, Willow snapped awake.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

There were centaurs having a party on the ceiling. Or, on the floor above Draco's ceiling, and he was convinced that the plaster and floorboards were going to come crashing down, squashing him into bits on the miserable metal cot where he'd be found sometime next fall when the residents of the house came down for their yearly battle with the dust bunnies who threatened to overthrow them and take over the whole neighborhood.

He sighed.

Okay, so they weren't real centaurs, only people getting ready for whatever Muggles did during the day, and he'd almost be happier if they were. Cause if they were, that would mean he was home, and not in this crappy basement filled with creepy shadows that he was absolutely convinced were some sort of zombie cat come to feast on his brain. He couldn't figure out why that image wouldn't leave his mind, and really didn't want to think too much about it. It was disturbing. This whole situation was disturbing. He was disturbed.

He sighed.

This wasn't really helping matters. He'd spent the last few hours watching the dawn light bleed through the tiny window at the other end of the room, turning the equipment and weapons first lavender, then rose, and finally just dusty. Irony certainly wasn't in short supply in his life recently; someone up there certainly liked to heap it on. He wondered what he'd done in a previous life to deserve his current fate. Here he was, in a Muggle house, married to a Mudblood who was currently curled up on a Muggle who was best friends with a Slayer, Vampire, Demon and Key… he still wasn't sure what that one was. He did know, however, that he had no real interest in facing the rest of them today, or ever again. But he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys never gave up. Then again, if he could sling Willow over his shoulder like a Neanderthal with his lady love and zap them back home again, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But, unfortunately, his wand was in pieces, and he wasn't likely to find another lying around anywhere. So, he had to go find Willow, hopefully without that Xander creature anywhere about.

He snarled.

He didn't really understand the burning, twisting feeling he found crawling up his throat whenever he thought of his Firestarter curled up on that Muggle, but he definitely wanted it to stop. It was simple, all he had to do was leave, remove Xander from the equation, and everything would be fine.

Or not. He wasn't stupid. Or, not about most things. Of which, he knew he had to face the 'Scoobies', whatever that ridiculous moniker meant. He swung his legs over the side of the cot, grimaced, and reminded himself, yet again, that vampires were bad, and he had absolutely no business negotiating with them over dinner. Ever. His eye was half swollen closed, and the gash on his cheek stung and itched all at once. He had impressive bruises on his throat, and was pretty sure the one on his ribs matched the boot of dinner guest number one.

He wobbled off the cot into the rough bath at the other end of the room, mentally rolling his eyes at the picture he presented. If only Pothead, Weasel and the Mudblood could see him now. What a field day they'd have. Draco splashed some water where he thought it would do the most good and attempted to smooth down his hair to look less like a starling nest. Eventually throwing fashion to the wind, he made his painful, pathetic way back to the stairs and started up. He stood for a few breaths just looking at the door then pushed it open.

Dawn was sitting at the island, paper in one hand, spoon in the other. She flicked her eyes in his direction briefly, arched one perfect eyebrow and went back to her morning reading. Draco stood, awkwardly looking around. No Willow. There was, however, a distinct smell of coffee, but he couldn't figure out where the coffeepot was. There were boxes of cereal, all brightly covered in Muggle pictures, scattered over the island, and a few dirty bowls littered the sink.

"You look like crap. Are you hungry?"

Draco whirled around. Dawn put her paper down and stared at him. "Er, um, yes." Draco hadn't noticed it until asked, but dinner had been a long time ago, and to make the point, his stomach growled. The teen took another bite cereal.

"Milk's in the fridge. You want anything else, cook it yourself." He looked at the 'fridge' and back to Dawn. 'Cook it yourself' had definitely ominous overtones. He'd sat through the requisite semesters of Muggle Studies, heckling the entire time about the stupidity of magic-less Muggles, but they'd never had to actually cook things the Muggle way. Sure, he knew what a 'stove' or 'car' or 'fridge' was, but he'd never actually seen one. He mentally wished for a house elf to pop in and miraculously whip him up a good English Breakfast with sausages, eggs, potatoes, tomatoes, the works. Unfortunately, with no elf in sight, it looked like he was on his own. He opened the large metalish locker, the 'fridge', and removed a pitcher of milk. She pushed a bowl his direction and he sat stiffly.

He looked at the selection of boxes and tried to decipher what each of them may taste like. It appeared that one could be made of Leprechauns, which was beyond icky, so he pushed that one away. Another may be made of golden treasure, and he briefly wondered if it was real gold, or just the edible fake gold, like Leprechaun gold perhaps. He decided to give this on a wide berth just in case. One appeared to have life enhancing properties, another made one insane for chocolate. Some sort of oat one crackled, and figuring that one was a bit too close to a Weasley twin exploding candy experiment, he passed over it. The last box contained grape nuts. He wasn't aware that grapes had edible nuts. Whatever they were looked like birdseed, but at least they wouldn't explode, make one insane, have any affect on his longevity, be made of gold or small mythical creatures. Looked like a winner.

He poured a bit in the bowl and Dawn wrinkled her nose. "Ewwww. Old person cereal much?" She dumped half a bowl of sugar on top. "That'll help." Draco blinked and added some milk. He stuffed a spoonful in his mouth and crunched.

"Mmmm, that's… terrible. Why didn't it tell me I was going to be eating rocks!" He grimaced and took another bite, glaring at Dawn when she giggled.

"What? It's funny! Giles is the only one who eats that stuff. Spike eats Wheetabix, but we're out."

"Oh." He glared at his cereal and Dawn alternately. With another sigh, he pushed the bowl away.

"So." He looked up. Dawn was examining him like a cat with a canary and he mentally groaned. "A real life villain. Cool."

Draco's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Villain?"

"Well, not exactly. But still, not everyday people fall out of my favorite books."

"Favorite books?"

"Mmmhmmm." She turned back to the newspaper, feigning nonchalance. He fidgeted for a moment before standing up.

"I have to find Willow." He knew she was awake, and confused. Her thoughts didn't seem to make sense, and he shook his head to try to clear it.

Dawn looked up, knitting her brows slightly. "Yeah? She showered right after I did, so I think she'll be down soon. Xander has to take me to school today on his way to work, so he ran home to change. She got up when he did." Dawn couldn't miss the look of intense distaste that flashed across the wizard's face. "What?"

"Nothing. I need to speak to her."

Shrugging, Dawn poured her self another bowl of Cocoa Puffs. "Like I said, she'll be down in a sec. Chill." So Draco sat, and contemplated his cereal.

After a few moments, he heard steps on the stairs and he could almost see Willow hesitating before turning the corner. A breath and she appeared in the kitchen door, clad in a pair of worn jeans and soft red t-shirt with her hair pulled back in a silver barrette. She saw Dawn first and flinched, but her eyes flew to Draco, sitting calmly at the island. Her eyes widened as she took in his bruises and bandages and she took the next few steps forward in a rush.

"My God, Draco, what happened? Are you alright?" She reached one tentative finger to his cheek, not quite touching the bandage then smoothing his hair back behind his ear. He reached up and grabbed her hand in his.

"I met some of Sunnydale's finest last night, but Buffy and Spike," he spat out the last name, oblivious to Willow's narrowed eyes, "found me and hauled me back here in one piece."

"Why didn't you wake me up!" Draco froze, and Willow was surprised at the chill that flickered through his silver eyes.

"I tried, but you were otherwise occupied." The silence between them rippled and flowed until Dawn broke the quiet.

"Oh, so that's why you were all 'down with Xander'! Jealous much?"

Willow whipped around with a question on her lips, "Dawn? What do you mean?"

"She doesn't mean anything. I came to see you to get this fixed, but you were snuggled up with that… Muggle," he hissed. Pulling the pieces of his wand out of his pocket he slammed them down on the table. "But obviously you don't care. You're dressed like them for Merlin's sake!"

Willow looked down at her clothes, but before she could retort, Dawn burst out, "What? Like you're the paragon of fashion? You look like a reject from the looser nerd's role playing adventure. I mean, robes? Long Hair? Please."

Draco turned to her with the best Malfoys-are-superior look on his face and answered stiffly. "I'll have you know that my family is always at the height of fashion. These robes cost more than your entire wardrobe."

Dawn raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "Whatever. You still look retarded." With that she waved her hand dismissively. "You may be the big cheese wherever you come from, but around here, pppfffttt."

With a narrowing of his eyes, Draco hissed. "Yes, well, if my little Firestarter will kindly get around to fixing my wand, I'll happily remedy that by going home." He turned to Willow, "Well?"

She was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, resolve face firmly in place. "No."

"NO?!?"

Dawn butted in, "Willow doesn't do magic any more."

Draco couldn't miss the pain that flickered through her green eyes, nor the frisson of irritation and anger at the statement, but she kept her face neutral. "No, Draco, I don't think so."

"What? Why? I have to set the portkey for home! How are we supposed to go home?!? And my clothes…." He pulled the miniaturized bag from his pocket. "I would like to change my clothes at some point."

Willow took the tiny bag, weighing it on her palm. She looked up briefly and muttered, "I know, I know, but not yet. I can't, not yet." The other two looked at her with confusion and she continued in a louder voice. "Draco, I'm not going to fix your wand yet. I think it'll be good for you to learn a bit about where I've come from. My world, my rules. And you can always figure out how to repair it yourself, if you don't think you can handle it."

Draco's jaw dropped open. Simultaneously, two very different thoughts ran through his head. The Malfoy part of him hissed a very angry 'You Bitch!' The Slytherin part of him gave an admiring 'Clever, clever.' What actually came out of his mouth, on the other hand, was a strangled, "Erughth." He stood stiffly, silver eyes flashing, and swept out of the room as Snape-like as he could manage with all the pain and limping. Willow didn't watch him leave; she kept her eyes fixed on some imaginary point over the kitchen sink. When he was gone, she slumped into the nearest chair, her head in her hands.

The drama over, Dawn carried her bowl to the sink running water to wash the remains down the drain. She didn't look at Willow as she left the kitchen, but at the doorway, she stopped, still facing away.

In a whisper so quiet Willow almost missed it, Dawn spoke, "It wouldn't have been."

"What?"

"It' wouldn't have been better if you'd been shot instead. If you had, then Buffy would have died in the hospital, slayer healing or no. That's what the doctors said." The silence was tense between them before Dawn continued. "I'm so sorry Tara died; I loved her too, but I can't loose Buffy again." She waited for a heartbeat longer before walking down the hall. Willow stayed where she was, her head still in her hands.


Chapter 25

Morning light streamed through the large picture window in the Summers' living room. It flowed around the room, dancing around the silver haired wizard, glinting off of his long hair. He stood, frozen, watching the world pass by. Buffy had run down the stairs not moments before, calling for Dawn. When she saw him standing there, she stopped short. He didn't acknowledge her, and merely flickered his eyelashes at the pronouncement, "Well, guess the broody English guy is still broody." She grabbed a bag from the hall table and flung the front door open. Dawn skittered down the stairs after her, dropped a pile of books on the end table to Draco's left and followed her sister out into the morning. Xander was waiting at the curb. The girls piled in and he pulled away, nary a backward glance at the house.

Yet still Draco stood. He felt rather than heard Willow come to stand beside him. Neither spoke as they watched cars passing, a woman walking three small dogs, a man pushing a baby carriage with a four year old clasped firmly in hand. Ordinary people doing ordinary things. Muggle things.

"I hate this world."

"You don't know this world."

"I hate this world."

"I know." She paused for a second before raising her fingers to ghost at the bruises marring his neck. "And it doesn't look like it particularly cares for you." They fell silent once more.

Across the street, Mrs. Anderson walked around her garage carrying a low bench and a pail. She placed the bench in the flower bed closest to the road, kneeling to reach her hands into the dirt, pulling up weeds and trimming back low bushes. She paused to wipe her brow and Draco spoke again.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why couldn't you be Queen of the Fairies; or maybe the daughter of a medi-witch at least?"

"I don't know."

"Why a Mudblood?" The tension in his voice stretched the words thin, making them fragile, brittle and Willow sighed.

"I don't know Draco. It's the way things have to be, I suppose."

"Does it get easier?"

"What?"

"Us? Do we get easier?"

"I don't know. I think it depends." He nodded almost imperceptibly. She continued, "Buffy asked Giles once if it got easier. I think he said something about hats, but the gist of which is life it what we make of it." She paused. "I am so tired of the pain, Draco. I don't want it anymore; I want to move on."

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed. Willow was suddenly rushed by memories. Joyce bringing them cocoa with mini-marshmallows on a tray, and telling them not to stay up to late, clock bonging in the background. Another flash and she was with Buffy, Oz, Xander and Cordelia watching a movie, raising the volume to drown out the sounds of impending curfew. She blinked, and they were all here the summer Buffy was gone, the Bot on the couch, Willow's hands in the wiring, fixing the latest glitch. She shook herself to end the memories. Next to her, Draco's face was a study in confusion.

"What was it like, growing up here? Surrounded by Muggles and demons, how did you survive it all?"

She pursed her lips. "I just did. It was all I knew. There were no wizards or witches, no schools for the magically inclined. There is no 'superiority of the magical folks'. If anything, we had to hide, to pretend we were normal." She gave a small huff of laughter. "I spent most of my life trying to fit in, wondering why I was different. I thought it was because I was smart, or geeky, or unfashionable. But now… I don't know if my magic would never have allowed it. It made, makes, me different from the rest of everyone."

"You are different. You're better."

"No, Draco. I can't be. Not with what I've done, I can never be better. More powerful? Sure, but not better." He raised one curious eyebrow, but she shook her head. "Not now, maybe later."

Mrs. Anderson finished with that flowerbed, and moved her bench closer to the house. Three children late for school rushed past on bikes, their backpacks filled to the brim with unfinished homework and last minute assignments. Somewhere down the street a dog barked, and Mrs. Anderson turned to look.

"Let me take us home."

She flinched. "I… Oh, Draco…"

The smallest movement of his hand cut her off. "I understand." And he did. She could feel his acceptance, unhappiness, but acceptance, and briefly wondered who he'd been dreaming about while she and Tara had their chats. Not that it mattered.

His next statement surprised her. He said it in such an offhand manner, that she turned to look at him fully. "I still love you, you know. Despite all of this, I do. I can't not; and it's tearing me apart."

"I know."

He whispered again, "Why?" But she had no answer. They stood a few minutes more, watching Revello Drive go about its daily activities. More people passed, going to and fro, more lives went on, and still they waited. Finally Draco turned to her, silver eyes searching green.

"How do you know? How do I? I look around and see your world, but more than that. There are stories here that I can feel, just below the surface, as if I'm reading them. You're in me now. Something that vampire said, about how your scent changed. Why sometimes I can barely feel you and other times it nearly knocks me over- your emotions do. I don't understand."

She reached one hand to trace the willow tree on his chest. A small frown marred her face and she tilted her head slightly. "I don't either, but it's something we should find out." She made a grimace. "But maybe after we get you cleaned up." He looked up hopefully and she narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm still not fixing your wand." She could feel the sub-audible snarl as he turned away and she laid her hand on his arm. "I am sorry." He relaxed slightly and rested his fingertips on the back of her hand.

"Well, just about everyone agrees that I look about as good as I feel, so how about a shower? I could really go for looking less like the receiving end of a Gryff/Slyth Quidditch match without rules."

Willow smiled and wrapped her slender fingers around his hand. She led him upstairs to her room and pushed him toward the bed. He sat gingerly, and she stepped back to get a good look at him. "Have fun last night?"

"Hardy bloody har har." She winked at him. "I never, ever want to do that again."

She pushed the robes from his shoulders, wincing in sympathy as she uncovered bruise after bruise. He continued where she left off, peeling off layer after layer, as she turned away. Kneeling on the floor, Willow dropped the miniature luggage, held her hands out and closed her eyes. A brief flash of light lit the room and Draco's carryall bloomed back to full size. She turned to look over her shoulder and smiled at the very evident relief on her- she paused.

"What do I call you?"

"Draco or Coyote. You seem to like that one."

"Ha, it suits you, obviously. But that's not what I meant." She rocked back on her heels and blushed. "It's just that I could call you my husband, technically, cause of the whole Anima Conligato thing, but that just sounds… weird- especially since we're not legally. Here anyway. We haven't ever dated, even, just jumped from whatever we were to whatever we are."

They regarded each other for a moment. Draco leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees and looked at her intently. "Well, boyfriend doesn't cover it." He suddenly looked down, as if he was afraid of her reaction. "I'm not boyfriend material anyway."

She raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I never have been. Not really. Stupid Pansy during that stupid Cup thing doesn't count." Willow giggled. "And I never asked you out proper-like. You mentioned that. So… I have no idea."

"Well, we have to tell them something."

"The vampire-"

"He has a name you know."

"The vampire said he knows it's more. So, what do we say? That we're what?"

"That's the question of the hour isn't it?!?" Willow was getting irritated. "You were supposed to think this through, remember? Before you went and did the whole permanent thing!" She glared at him. "What were you planning on telling people?"

Draco pushed himself off the bed and began pacing. Most of his clothes littered the floor, leaving him clad only in a pair of dark grey slacks. Willow took a moment to look, truly look at what she'd gotten herself into. He was beautiful; she already knew that. He carried himself wound, an athlete's build emphasizing his sleek frame. Pale as she was, he didn't have the red flush that Willow was so famous for. He was almost translucent, the silver white hair and light silver eyes only emphasizing the pale. The bruises and scrapes stood out in sharp relief, blue black fading to sickly yellow. He turned to glare in her direction and she noted the sharp nose, bright eyes, narrow face. Hungry. He fairly oozed hunger, it radiated from every movement, every step. Whipping around again, he took the few steps to her side and sank to his knees.

"I am Draco Malfoy, and I am yours. The rest doesn't matter, not to me. I am whatever you want me to be." He flinched at the faint look of disappointment that flitted across Willow's face. "I don't know what you want me to say!"

Willow smiled faintly. Draco wound his fingers in with hers, searching her face for answers that she wouldn't give. Finally she squeezed his fingers, and pulled him up. "Come on, let's get you showered up." He tried to read her, to understand what he'd done wrong, but she was blank. A surface collection of worries and concerns, but nothing to answer his questions. He rolled his eyes and followed her out into the hall.

She led them to a hall bath then rummaged around in a cupboard for extra towels. "Seems they moved everything around while I was gone. It's a wonder I can find anything. Here you go." She handed him the towels and turned to leave. He grabbed at her arm.

"Stay."

She came back, a quizzical expression on her face. "Is it the bathroom? It works just like back at school, twist this for hot, this for cold. You can use any of the soaps…" she trailed off.

"No, just stay here with me." And that's when Willow heard it, the tremor of fear, ever so slight, threading through his words. "I-"

"You've never been without magic, have you?"

He glared at her, but shook his head. "Not even when I was a little boy."

"I thought wands weren't allowed until you started school?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm a Malfoy, remember? I had a starter wand as soon as I learned to talk. Father thought it would be good to start me early, in case I was deficient, as he so feared." He snarled at that, and was clearly startled when Willow wrapped her arms around his waist. She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat flutter. It was still new, the touching between them. She relished in the feel of soft skin on her fingertips, against her cheek, soft breath on her hair. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her as well, caressing her hair, running his fingers through the red mass, loosening it from the sliver clip. She sighed and snuggled closer.

A grin twisted his lips and he murmured, "Is this the conligato? This feeling of peace whenever we touch? Is that what was supposed to happen?"

She smiled against his skin, "I think it's just us, Draco. Just us."

"We can do this, can't we?"

Willow barked out a soft laugh. "Oh, I think we can. Or at least someone up there thinks so." She leaned back and pushed him slightly with a wink. "Go on, strip, let's see this manly body of yours get all clean, then I'll rebandage your cheek."

Strangely shy, he faced away from her as he twisted the water taps until they were the correct temperature and dropped his pants to get into the spray. Willow couldn't help the small giggle the escaped her lips.

"What?"

"Coyote, I've seen you buck naked before. And I'll probably see you buck naked for the rest of our existence."

He snarled. "Maybe, but you've never seen me covered with these oh so attractive bruises. Not my most shining moment I'm sure."

Sobered, she nodded. "No, but that's ok. I'm positive that yesterday morning wasn't my best look either, what with the blood running down my face, but you still held me."

"Was it that short a time ago? Less than two days?" The lathering obscured his voice, but Willow had no trouble understanding him.

"Funny isn't it. How much can change so quickly. Two days ago, I was hanging out at the Quidditch game, looking for you, that night we… um… well, you know. The next morning all wigged, that afternoon, some entertaining games, that night, zap, I'm home then you come popping into the living room. I have a bit of a breakdown while you get mauled by the locals. And then here we are. Go figure."

He laughed. "Here we are." She saw the outline of him picking up bottle after bottle. "Do any of these things have natural ingredients in them? I can't even pronounce this stuff. Benzo-hexa-whosit?"

Willow shrugged. "I guess some of it is natural, but that's the way we do things here. Better living through chemistry."

"What about the magical community, don't they know better?"

She stood, her arms crossed and glared into the shower. Refraining from the urge to shout, she spoke stiffly, "Draco, we covered this. There is no magical community. Just witches like myself, living our ordinary Muggle lives." She tilted her head. "Or not so ordinary, just depends."

The wizard was silent as he finished washing up. The water shut off, and he peeked his head around the curtain. "Um, towel?"

Willow stood, holding out a large fluffy blue one. He took it gingerly and rubbed himself down before stepping out into the bathroom. The towel was tied neatly around his waist and he pulled his hair forward to drain the water out into the sink. The shower seemed to help the hair situation, but he still looked terrible. Willow got out the gauze and Neosporin motioned for him to sit. He did so, grimacing as he stretched something painful, and Willow knelt in front of him. He stared off at some point over her shoulder as she dabbed on the ointment.

"This shouldn't scar too badly, just a little line. Dashing actually." She smoothed over the bandage.

"You know, if you fixed it with magic, there wouldn't be a scar." He didn't look at her as he said this, but Willow couldn't help but feel the hostility.

"That's not how we do this here. You'll have a tiny scar to remind you of your trip to my dimension, that's all. It will be healed in a day or two. It doesn't look like you broke or cracked anything, which is lucky." Softly, she continued, "It's lucky you're alive." She squashed the sliver of fear that burst through her at the thought of what could have been and stood, picking up her old brush from the vanity. When he made no move to stand up, she began to brush the long blond hair. He was tense, and Willow could see the muscles rippling on his back as he forced himself to sit ramrod straight. When she was done brushing out his hair, she nudged his shoulder gently. "Hey you, come on. Let's get you out of the wet towel."

He grabbed his pants and stood up, wordlessly following her back to her bedroom. He flopped on the bed, groaning. "This is so much more comfortable than that cot in the basement." He sat up. "Did you know there are chains?"

She scrunched up her nose. "Chains?"

"Yup, in the basement over the bed. Along with some wicked weapons, actually."

Willow thought for a moment as she rummaged through his bag, fishing out a pair of soft, Slytherin green warm up pants. She tossed them to him, and as he was putting them on she wondered aloud, "Maybe it was for Spike. They said he went a little crazy for a while. Perhaps Buffy had to tie him up."

He rolled his eyes. "Wonderful, I was rescued by a crazy vampire. This world gets better and better." He finished with the pants and lay back down, curling up on his uninjured side. The willow tree stood out in sharp relief on his skin, and Willow watched as the opals swirled with colors. On her own chest, the dragon was curled up; its ruby eyes squeezed shut, obviously in pain.

She closed the curtains on the bright California morning. From this window she could see Spike's smoking tree and the trellis Buffy used to sneak out. She spared a second to thank whoever moved her things from the master bedroom. She didn't think she could handle looking out into the backyard just yet.

With only a moment's hesitation, she moved to join him, cuddling as close to his back as she could without touching any bruises. She laid one hand on his hip, and he brushed her fingers with his own. His mind was working overtime, thoughts tumbling faster than she could follow, not that she wished to. She wondered if this was what it would always be, the chaotic rumbling of another person pushing at the edges of her own consciousness. But she had missed it terribly when he was gone, when she couldn't hear him, feel him. And he was right- he did give her the thing she wanted most; she was no longer alone, never again. A smile graced her lips and she pulled the covers up over them both. After a few moments, he relaxed and the thoughts streaming through her mind eased to a gentle trickle. A breath later, he was asleep, and she closed her own eyes.

It was the slamming of the front door that woke them up. Draco's limbs went flailing as he tried to fight off the imaginary night terror and he knocked Willow off the bed in the process. She hit the ground with an audible whump and sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"What happened? What's going on?!?" She blinked sleepily. "Draco?"

He leaned over the bed and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, guess I got a little excited." He yawned. "What time is it anyway?"

Fumbling a bit in the messy bedcovers, Willow crawled back onto the bed. The alarm clock was flashing 5:36. Night falls early in the winter, and it was already becoming dusk. "Guess it's time for everyone to come home. Did we really sleep all day?"

"Mmm. Looks like." He yawned again and grabbed Willow around the waist. She squeaked softly as he pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. They relaxed back onto the pillows and Willow slid her hand across his chest, playing with the ends of his hair.

"I thought I heard the door slam."

"Probably."

"So… shouldn't we go say hello to everyone else?"

"Uh- no? Can't we stay here?" She poked at him gently, avoiding bruises that already looked to be healing.

"Draco."

He huffed and muttered, "Fine. I'll go make nice. Can't we stay here for a few minutes longer?" He managed to put all the wheedle and beg into that last statement that he could, and grinned as Willow relented.

"A moment or two. Portal travel does take it out of you. Though, you seemed to handle it considerably better than I did."

"Ha! Well, maybe. I think we traveled by different spells, anyway. Snape had been working on mine for months, and it needed an anchor to whatever dimension the person was traveling to. Didn't have that until you came back here. The binding between us provided that anchor, thank Merlin, or I'd probably be floating around out in the ether somewhere."

"How'd it work?"

He shrugged. "Didn't ask, not much time. I drank this nasty potion; there were flashing lights, some pain, and poof! I was standing in Buffy's living room."

Willow frowned. "That is definitely not what happened to me." She shuddered. "I don't recommend my flight plan to anyone."

"That bad?"

"A world of yes. Felt like they were ripping me apart, nerve ending by nerve ending. I think it knocked me out, actually." He hugged her tighter. "Alright, buckaroo. Your minute is up. Come on; let's go see what's for dinner. I'm famished." She grinned and gave him a slight push out of bed.

He moaned and wandered over to the bag to fish out a Quidditch practice shirt. Wincing a bit, he slid it on and cocked his head at the little red headed witch, slipping his hand into his pocket when she wasn't looking.

"And remember, Coyote, play nice with others."

He narrowed his eyes. "Everyone?"

She narrowed hers right back. "Just 'cause I took away your wand and you can't curse anyone doesn't mean I don't know you. You're a Slytherin; you thrive on strife."

He gave her an innocent look, pointing his hand at his chest as if to say, 'Moi?'

"Yes you, now come on." She took a deep breath and smoothed her hair back into the barrette. She reached out for his hand and pushed the door open. They could hear voices from downstairs, laughing and some sort of curse before a soft crash. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure Draco was behaving and walked down the stairs.

At the doorway, they paused to watch as Dawn laughingly handed a slice of pizza to her sister. In the dining room, several pizza boxes were spread out interspersed with piles of plates and napkins. The Scoobies were sitting loosely around the dining table, eating and chatting. Xander was miming something to Dawn about work; Dawn was pretending to listen as she stole a slice of pepperoni from his plate. Buffy had a calendar open on her lap and was asking something of Anya, who loaned her a pencil. Spike sat back away, leaning on the wall, but he had a plate full of food on his lap. Giles had his back to them, facing away, and his glasses were off.

Willow stood frozen, unable to move. She felt Draco lean his hand on her back and she mentally whispered to him, 'They look so complete. Like they're happy with how they are now; like they don't even miss me.'

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Nothing is complete without you." She smiled faintly, and at that moment, Buffy noticed them.

"Hi guys! We wondered where you were. And it looks like you got the broody guy all cleaned up, which is good. Cause, gotta tell you, he was looking pretty pathetic." She pointed to some chairs they could use. "Have some pizza."

Draco refused to acknowledge her, and pulled the chairs up beside Giles, across from Dawn and Xander. The carpenter noticed Draco's possessive hand at Willow's back and frowned; Draco noticed his frown and Willow stumbled at the wave of intense dislike that washed over her. But Draco sat without complaint, and waited until Willow grabbed a piece of veggie pizza before he got his own.

For a moment, no one said a thing, until Anya broke the silence. "So, Draco, heard you ran into some vampires last night. Good for you for staying alive, shows great resourcefulness."

He gave her an incredulous look and opened his mouth, but Dawn beat him to it. "This is pizza. Do you know what pizza is? It's a Muggle food. Americans eat lots of it." Draco blinked.

"Dawnie, we have pizza at Hogwarts. He's a wizard, not a cave dweller."

The teen's face fell. "Oh. I was just saying…" Willow smiled a bit tentatively, and Dawn perked back up again. "But I bet he's never had my special peanut butter and jalapeno fried tortilla!" Draco looked faintly green.

"So, Mister Malfoy, how are you finding Sunnydale." Draco glared at the watcher, but didn't have a chance to respond before Xander jumped in.

"Looks like he got a bit beat up, didn't you, evil wizard man." Draco switched his glare from watcher to Muggle. "That's just too bad, isn't it? Then again, it was probably the welcoming party you deserved."

"Xander!" Willow looked at him in shock. Xander had the grace to look moderately sheepish, but didn't offer an apology. Willow could feel Draco's temper boiling, so she tried to head off any confrontations. "So, Buffy, you left with Dawn today. Do you have a new job?"

The slayer beamed. "You got it! No more polyester and fried meat for me! I'm a guidance councilor at the High School now. I've got my own desk and everything."

Dawn butted in, "Oh, yeah, wonderful. I get to see Buffy at work and at home. Will the wonders never cease?"

"Ahh…" Willow looked back and forth between them, all the while clamping down on Draco's knee under the table.

Buffy rattled on, oblivious to her sister's annoyance. "I see troubled teens, just like we were! Or, not like we were. But still, there're all sorts of things I can do. And the principal isn't nearly as toadlike and creepy as Snyder."

"You know, I kinda miss him." All eyes snapped to Willow. "Erm… It's just that he was so easy to figure out. Evil principle, hated the students, worked for the evil mayor. No hidden motives to be found." She wound down her babble and looked around the table. Everyone was staring at her with varying degrees of incredulity. "Well, it beats the socks off play guess the baddie…"

"Right. Anyway, the principal is pretty cool. Besides, I can keep an eye on Dawn." She ignored the teen's 'hey!' and continued. "And Giles moved back to help Anya with the store, once they get it rebuilt." Willow looked questioningly at Giles.

He waved his glasses around a bit. "Yes, well. It seemed I was needed here, so I came back home again. I was only sleeping on the couch last night due to the spell. It took quite a lot out of me, you know."

Anya poked him in the ribs, "Not as young as you used to be Rupert old buddy?"

With a glare that indicated her comment deserved no response, he muttered, "Yes, well, we can't all be that well preserved at your age." Anya humphed and crossed her arms.

"Anyway, he and Anya performed the spell last night, which was why he was so tired."

"And I had to sleep in the basement." The only words Draco had spoken ground the conversation to a halt. He looked at no one and everyone, ignoring the pinch Willow gave his thigh.

"Well, you could have slept on the porch."

"Xander!" Dawn swatted at his arm. "Don't tease the new guy; it's not nice."

Draco and Xander glared at each other across the table. Spike thumped his front chair legs down and slid his used plate back on the table. "Well, this is as good as watching a tennis match played with claymores. I think I'll go clean up." He stood, swiping used napkins and plates from the table. He whacked the back of Xander's chair as he went, and the dark haired youth stood.

"I think I'll help."

The sundry left at the table nodded and went back to eating their pizza. Despite Willow's claim that Hogwarts served pizza, which was true, Draco had never eaten any before. It was one of those Muggle foods that only appeared on the tables for the Mudbloods in the student body. He'd have starved before touching one measly bite back at school. Here, on the other hand, he doubted he could get any real wizarding foods. It was Muggle or fast, and he wasn't about to give the 'Scoobies' the satisfaction of watching him turn it down. The Muggle prat would probably take it as a sign of weakness. He took a bite, chewed for a second and washed it down with whatever Willow had filled his cup with. Fizzy, clear and lemon flavored. He sneezed as the bubbles went up his nose. He waved the cup around a bit and Willow answered.

"Sprite. Didn't think I could handle any caffeine today, not after everything… so I gave you what I was having. Would you rather have something else?" He shook his head and took another sip.

"No, this is… fine."

Dawn giggled. "Yeah, it's going over heaps better than the GrapeNuts this morning."

Giles perked up. "You ate my GrapeNuts? No one ever eats my GrapeNuts!"

"Yes, well, I don't think I'll be repeating that anytime soon." Everyone left around the table couldn't help but grin at the distaste marring Draco's face. He quirked an eyebrow, "Well, at least now I know right? If I ever need to gravel anything, just get the cereal box." Willow smiled and relaxed her hold on his knee.

"See Giles, we told you that stuff was terrible." Buffy grinned at him. "So, when we're all done with dinner, anyone up for patrolling?"

"Oh, me!" Dawn bounced up in her seat.

"No, Dawn. I know you have a history test tomorrow. I do work with Mrs. Limpkins you know." Dawn pouted mightily. "Anyone else?"

Anya flipped open her own calendar. "Ah… no. I've got an appointment in a few hours, in Russia, so I've got to get home to prepare for a bit."

Removing his glasses to clean them once again, Giles tilted his head back and squinted at the ceiling. "I've got contractors coming in early tomorrow at the Magic Box, so, I think I'll have to pass this one up. Besides, as Anya said, I am getting old." She smiled sweetly at him as he gave her the cold shoulder.

"I know Spike and Xander are up for it, so what about you two, Willow? Wanna go another round, Draco?"

A tremor of fear ran through the link from Draco to Willow and she rubbed his thigh soothingly. "You know Buffy, we're both exhausted, what with the portal lag and all. So maybe-"

"We'll go." Draco could see Xander watching him from the kitchen. Willow jumped in surprise, but he shook his head. "I'd love to see how it's done, for real this time. Not where I'm somebody's snack."

Buffy looked them over carefully. "If you're sure about it." He nodded. "Well, let's clean up and I'll divvy up the weapons. There's nothing brewing tonight, so it should be a light sweep." She stood with everyone else and started picking up boxes.

When Draco didn't move to help, Willow gave him a mental nudge. He looked around and frowned. "I don't clean."

She leaned down to his hear and hissed, "You do here. Remember, my world, my rules."

He hissed back at her, "This is servant's work." Suddenly he found himself standing, plate in hand, headed to the kitchen. He turned to glare at Willow, but she was picking up her own plate with a small smile on her face. He dumped the plate into the garbage bag that Dawn held open for him and retreated to the living room.

The gang gathered together, sitting on arms of chairs and leaning on walls. Buffy handed out stakes to Willow and Draco, a sharpened baseball bat to Xander, and Spike his favorite axe.

"Remember, you two," she said, gesturing to Willow and Draco, "You're practically defenseless, so don't do anything stupid. The stakes are for defense only."

Draco sent Willow an incredulous look, as if to say- 'You? Defenseless? Who is she kidding?' Willow shook her head slightly and he settled down, fingering his stake.

The slayer cocked her head and looked at Draco for a moment. "Didn't Dawn say that your wand is still broken this morning, Draco? Where'd the new clothes come from?"

As smooth as silk, the lie rippled off his tongue. "Big pockets in my robes. Had a few things stashed here and there in case of emergencies. Lucky for me, I guess."

"Oh, good. For a moment there, I was afraid Willow had used her magic again. That would have been awful." Xander nodded along, even while Spike looked unconvinced and Willow paled, all color leaving her cheeks.

She gave a weak laugh. "Yeah, awful." Draco ran a comforting hand down her back, wrapping it around her waist and drawing her close again.

"Everyone all set? We're going to hit Restfield, then Resthaven, and lastly Friendly Acres." Buffy bounced out the door, the others close behind. Draco and Xander passed through the door together, neither giving an inch, glaring all the way. Willow rolled her eyes and closed the door behind Spike.

"They both love you, you know." She turned to look at the blond vampire with surprise. "It's this male, protect the one you love thing."

"Well, it's irritating." Up ahead, the men in question were walking side by side, glaring all the way. "It's not like Xander has any interest in me, anyway. And Draco is sort of permanent anyhow."

"Oh?" When Willow didn't respond, Spike continued. "That doesn't matter really. Guys feel this ridiculous need to protect things they care about. I got my threats in last night, but Xander never has. So, he's being aggressive."

Willow turned her head, confusion written across her face. "Threats? For me?"

He smiled a bit and waved a hand. "Well, regardless of past actions, you are one of my favorite witches, now aren't you? It only seemed proper." She blushed.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Up ahead, the slayer turned into Restfield Cemetery, the boys close on her heels. Before Spike and Willow could catch up, however, a fledgling erupted from a grave at Draco's feet. He was flung aside before the petite blond flipped over him and staked the newly risen vampire. He stood up, shakily.

"How am I supposed to protect myself against those things without magic! It's ridiculous!"

Xander got right into his face. "I don't have magic and I do just fine, buddy, been doing it for years."

The wizard let lose a bark of laughter. "You? I bloody well don't think so. How could you manage it?"

In a split second, Xander drew his arm back and punched Draco hard in the nose. Draco stumbled backwards, tripping over a tombstone. He looked to where Willow was running up, but ignored the words of warning she sent his way. In a blink of an eye, Xander was flat on his back, the jaws of a silver coyote clamped firmly around his windpipe. He coughed and sputtered, and rubbed it tenderly when the coyote backed off. It sat on its haunches for a moment, tongue lolling out then transformed back into a smug looking wizard.

"Well, Willow, you certainly do go for the canines. Xander the hyena boy, Oz the werewolf, and now Draco the… what are you, a coyote?" Buffy was watching them with hands on her hips, a bemused smile quirking her lips.

Draco blinked in her direction. "Yeah, coyote." He pointed at Xander. "A hyena? Well, that makes sense, I suppose, what you said before we went flying. About 'at least I wasn't a hyena' or some such." His face darkened. "And what did Buffy mean about you and canines… were you and-" He jerked his thumb in the direction of Xander, who picked himself up off the ground.

Willow stepped in between them. "We weren't. And I've had it with you two and your posturing. We've been here one day, that's it, and you're already trying to do each other in with testosterone poisoning." She looked at Draco. "Yes, I had a thing for Xander, years ago, and he was possessed by a hyena. Not one of his better days. Yes my first boyfriend was a werewolf, and before you get all 'down with werewolves', it didn't work out but that doesn't mean I think he was a bad guy. So whatever hostility you feel, get over it. I'm not interested in it." She whirled back to Xander. "And you. What gives you the right to go punching my Coyote?"

"Wils, I just don't think he's good enough for you." He raised his hands, palms upwards.

Draco interjected softly, "No one is good enough for my Firestarter." She flashed him a sad smile.

"Xander, thanks for your concern. But I'm a big girl, anyhow. I make my own decisions, and I chose him."

"But-"

"No buts, Xander. He belongs to me, like I do to him."

"What do you mean?" The dark haired Scooby peered closely at the pair of them, watching as Draco took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She relaxed back into his embrace, leaning her head against his chest.

Draco looked out at the three figures, loosely gathered around, and took a deep breath. "She means she's my wife."

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