by Houses
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Chapter 21For 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.
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.
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.
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 25Morning 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.
Chapter 26It 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."
Chapter 27For a moment, Willow thought her heart had stopped. Then it started back up again with a tremendous wha-dump, sending blood spinning to her extremities, tingling in her fingertips. Despite the momentary disorientation, she couldn't help but chant to herself, 'he said it he said it he said it he said it!' In all Willow's life, all she'd wanted was to belong, to claim a place, to be wanted; a desperate needy craving to be accepted and she hated herself for it. But now, with those five little words, it felt as if her world had swirled to a stop and finally she'd found that place. Draco's arms around her shoulders tightened imperceptibly, and she sighed, leaning back, relishing the feel of his breath on her skin, the shivers that ran along her spine, the ones that proved she was really there, she'd really heard him right.
Unfortunately for her, the three people facing her didn't seem to share her opinion. Buffy's face flickered with confusion and longing of her own, Spike looked wryly sad, and Xander? He was ticked. His face turned a few shades closer to mauve and he opened and closed his mouth a several times in rapid succession. Willow thought he resembled a carp. Not one of those fancy ones with pretty tails that went by the name 'coy', but one of those massive fish that lurk at the bottom of spillways waiting for tourists to throw down food. She raised her hand to forestall the impending tirade but it did no good.
"You're what?!?"
"Married."
"But, how? Why? You don't even know him! What could you possibly see in each other? You said last night that the relationship was only a day or so old!"
"You, see, Xander; it's complicated-"
"Complicated? You don't even know if you love him! Remember? You can't be married to him!"
Willow's heart sank. She felt Draco withdraw behind her, though his arms didn't move from her shoulders. Distinctly arctic, his thoughts withdrew into themselves, and she shivered from the loss. The vengeful part of Willow's personality wanted to whap her friend upside the head, hard, for that comment. "Xander, just because you can't make your own relationships work, don't take that out on me. You left Anya at the altar, remember, not the other way around-"
Eyes narrowed, he stepped a few paces closer. "No! I can't accept this! You have no idea what you're doing." He fumed and waved his hands about as if warding off mosquitoes. His eyes flickered over the pair and lit upon Willow's clasped hands. " And look, he didn't even give you a ring!" He said this last remark with a triumphant 'Ah Ha!' rippling through the words, as if he'd found the answer. He glared at Draco, hands thrust out to the sides, hostility radiating from every cell.
The silver haired wizard had had enough. He picked Willow up, swung her around and sat her on a tomb. He held her down with one hand on her shoulder, and spun around to face the audience. Xander opened his mouth again, but Draco spat out, "Stuff it, pillock." He turned back to Willow and dropped down on his knees in front of her. With one last look over his shoulder, he took her hands in his own.
"I know I've screwed up. It's not like I need Lumpy over there to point it out. But I want to get it right. So I'm going to start now." He fiddled around in his pockets and pulled out a ratty box.
"I did love you, I do love you, and I always will love you. I think we've established that with the whole not being blown apart into thousands of sparkly lights. But what I don't know is, Willow Rosenberg, will you marry me?" He flipped open the black velvet box and fished out a ruby ring. It was over two carats and oval. The soft cemetery light encouraged a warm glow to sparkle off of the platinum band, fashioned into a pair of thin branches covered in willow leaves for the setting. "I should have done this before, if I'd known. And believe me I would have. I know it's not much, but it was my mother's grandmother's ring. She wore it all her life. I thought it would suit you…" He held his breath, afraid to look up. When her hands began to tremble, he risked a glance through his lashes.
She was crying. Fat, hot tears ran down her cheeks silently. She could only stare at the ring, held loosely in Draco's fingers, not moving one digit to touch it. He let out his breath, and curled his fingers around the jewel. He'd given her the choice freely, and she hadn't said yes. No wonder she didn't trust him, after the Conligato incident. Maybe that's all he was good for, tricking people into things, nothing more than a common Slytherin. His shoulders hunched forward and he moved to stand up, halting when he heard the whispered, "Yes."
Her face turned to his, her green eyes sparkling with tears and light, she grabbed his hands tight in her own. Louder, she repeated herself, "Yes. I will. I do. And I did." She laughed. "Good thing we're not responsible for any horse and cart, cause we definitely would have mucked that one up." She flashed a brilliant smile, and in that moment the rest of the world melted away. The hostile friends, the dusty cemetery, the lies and half truths that had followed them from his world to hers- they were gone. He pulled her tight against him, brushing his lips softly against hers, tasting the pain and hope all at once. She sniffled a bit, wiping her cheek with one trembling, pale finger. He smiled back, the silver in his eyes looking for a moment more coyote than human. The moment was interrupted by a sharp British drawl.
"Well, I usually prefer my hearts still beating in boxes and my flowers on graves, but that was just touching." Spike strode forward and clapped Draco on the shoulder. "Glad to see you yanked your head outta your ass." Draco gave him a wavering grin and pulled Willow to her feet. She pulled the ring from his hands and quietly slipped it on her ring finger.
Buffy tilted her head to the side and raised her hands, palms up. "You know, Wils, this world is too short. Our lives are too short. Heck, if he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you. Really." Sadness pulled the wattage of her smile down but she was trying to understand. A young woman whose time was limited and whose dream of white picket fences was an impossibility. Willow reached her hand out, laying it gently on her friend's arm.
"Thanks, Buffy. I know it may be hard to understand, but I think I need this. Or something does. And, well, nothing's perfect. The world is just what we make of it." Her lips twisted up in a wry smile. "Besides, I'm kinda stuck with him."
Her friend laughed softly, "Yeah, I guess you are."
Xander looked almost defeated, but tried one last time. "Wil, he's just not-"
"Good enough for me?" She took two steps closer to her oldest friend. Her voice shook as she murmured, "Look at me, Xander. Not good enough for me? Or not good enough for whom you think I am. I'm not fifteen year old Willow anymore, ice cream on the end of her nose waiting for you to notice me. I'm not Oz's little groupie, net girl with her heart all still in one piece. I'm not even the same girl that floated Tara off the dance floor for her birthday." She started to tear up again and rubbed at her cheek fiercely. "I'm me. Look at me." She stared up at him, her fists clenched at her hips, eyes flashing with green fire.
"Willow…"
"No, Xander, I thought you understood last night. I'm not what you remember anymore. I don't think you ever truly know a person, not until you've lived their lives. And all of us? You, me and Buffy, we've lived so many lives it's hard to keep track. You know what? I'm tired of my lives going all willy-nilly all over the place, flung around by death and destruction. I think I'll choose for myself this time. And I'm sorry if that hurts you. I never meant to. Friends can just do that sometimes, hurt each other. Comes from caring, I suppose. I love you both, I really do. But this has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."
She raised her hand, swirled her fingers, and a small ball of fire appeared, gently rotating. Buffy gasped and grabbed Spike's arm, and Xander shook his head slowly, disapproval and mild disgust marring his features. Draco, on the other hand, grinned like a madman and leered at his love. His mood had improved greatly when she'd taken the ring as her own. His gaze flickered to her ring finger, the ruby glittering in the light of the magical fire. Willow saw and smiled faintly, twisting the flames until they took the shape of a golden dragon, wings outstretched in flight. It beat the air for a moment and left Willow's hand to fly a circle around Draco before dissolving into the night air. The redhead turned back to her friends.
"Draco loves me, Xander, for all of me. For the parts of me that look funny in the morning, for the parts of me that talk to mollusks, for the parts that can't fly on a broomstick to save my life. All parts, Xander, even the magic bits. He knows me, the real me, not the shiny happy exterior, not the mask I wear. He's seen inside me and hasn't run away."
"I am who I am, spells and all, despite what you would wish for me. It was something I realized when I first got to Hogwarts. My magic is in me, part of me, and last year when I was trying to overcome that 'addiction', I had no idea what I was doing. Repressing the magic only made it that much more dangerous when it finally burst loose. I tried to squash something as natural to me as breathing." She shook her head. "And as much as you all cared for me, you couldn't understand. Well maybe Buffy could have." She turned to the blonde. "Remember how it was when you tried to stop slaying? How you went slowly mad denying that part of you? It was like that for me. I thought I was drowning."
Buffy shook her head and started to say something, but an enormous sigh from Willow stopped her. "I know. That was after. I don't know why I started down that road to begin with. Not understanding everything I had inside, I suppose. It was so easy, so quick to do things the magical way. And when I did, all I had was encouragement for so long. I had no real structure, no concept of what the reliance on power was doing to me until it was too late." She grimaced, reliving unpleasant memories, Dawn's scream of pain as her forearm shattered ringing through her ears.
A deep breath and she continued, "I have this darkness inside, and I battle it every day. It would be so easy to let go, but I'm learning to be stronger than that. I have to be." She bowed her head and Draco stepped up behind her. She reached her hand out, gripping his fingers fiercely. "In Draco I see what it would be to be totally magical, to have it all at your fingertips, and it makes me stronger. You want to know what's funny? I think I may love him despite his magic. He could be so much more than his name, and I want to be there when he becomes. Just becomes. After all, he's still learning how to be a Muggle." She winked at him. "If I can just keep him from ending up as dinner, then we'll have gotten off to a great start."
Chin raised, she glared faintly at the dark haired youth through the recurring tears. They stood facing off, two lifelong friends facing inflexible feelings. Willow was never going to be what Xander remembered, and Xander was never going to understand. He was silent for a moment before he grabbed her roughly up into his arms, crushing her tight. "I know you're not fifteen anymore, Wils. And I may never be O.K. with the magic, but I'll manage." He kissed her forehead and leaned her back. "I'm sorry." He glared over her shoulder. "I still don't like you."
Draco sneered right back, "Likewise, Lumpy."
Willow laughed weakly and wiped her eyes. Draco pulled her back into his possessive embrace and she muttered, "You don't have to squeeze me to death, you know. I'm not going anywhere, or did you miss that part?"
Buffy and Spike exchanged glances and Spike stepped forward. "Well, you two look right knackered, what with the emotional nuclear explosion that just went down. I think I'll walk you back to the house and let Buffy and the whelp finish patrol. Sound ok with you?"
Willow nodded, pulling away from the wizard, but still keeping a tight hold on his fingers. Buffy offered them a small wave and almost smiled as they turned to walk from the graveyard. Willow tried not to let it hurt her feelings, but it still stung.
Draco was silent, fingering the stake he picked up from the grass by the tombstone before they left. The night was bright now with all cloud cover blown away by some distant ocean breeze. Bright stars flecked the sky like so many grains of sand tossed to the wind. "Are they the same, do you think?"
"What was that?"
"The stars. Are the same stars in your sky as in mine?"
Spike spoke softly, "I don't know. Most of them, probably. I think the versions of our world are fairly close, not like the demon dimensions. Though even then, some of the stars could be the same."
"Maybe." Willow squinted and spun around in a circle. "It's hard to say since we're in California and you're from England. I didn't spend much time in the towers with Sinistra, I mean Professor Vector, but most of the constellations are similar. Arithmancy uses the same zodiac signs for a lot of their calculations, but I didn't study it with too much enthusiasm. I was supposed to be checking out some books on Arithmancy and dimensional travel but I kept getting distracted."
Draco snorted. "Right. I took that class; there is nothing exciting in Arithmancy unless you're Granger. She finds everything exciting."
Willow smiled wistfully. "Yeah."
Spike shooed them down the street. "Thinking about the stars is a bit like thinking about how we ended up with different realities to begin with. Who's to say that we aren't running around in hundreds of worlds, walking along the street looking at the stars?"
Grimacing, Willow murmured, "Yeah, and we all know how well that turned out. Vamp me was way too skanky for my tastes… though she did get the kinda gay thing right."
Both men stopped abruptly. "Vamp you? Skanky? How'd I miss that one?!?" Spike's jaw was wide open and he had a gleam in his eye that Willow had missed in recent years. Draco, on the other hand, looked pale and uncomfortable.
"You were a vampire?"
Giggling, she elaborated. "Spike, you were off with Drusilla in South America, and she wasn't from this reality. One that Anya created when she granted Cordelia's wish. She really didn't like it here, not that I blame her. Here's not the easiest place to be." Her face fell, and Spike placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Buck up, Red. They'll come around." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you ever think that there may have been more to it than getting lost?"
"Huh?"
"Back when the initiative put that chip in my noggin, Giles said something to me at the time that I didn't want to listen to. He said that maybe there was a higher purpose to what happened, and maybe I should figure out why." He peered at her closely, rubbing his hand on his chin. "Someone once told the Poof that we've all got something to atone for. Maybe the PTBs have something in mind for you."
She froze, the words from her dream echoing back, 'You have work to do…' She shook her head. "I… I don't know Spike. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or why me. I mean, I get the atoning thing, boy do I get that, but not how I can make a difference."
"Professor Snape told me about the dream." Willow whirled on her lover, her fingers and lips going numb in apprehension.
"What?"
"And I read that stupid Indian thing."
"Native American."
"Whatever. Anyway, I read it, and I think I understand." He rolled his shoulders and looked down at the diminutive woman. "There's something left undone. That's why it didn't hurt to go to Hogwarts, but coming here was so painful. You aren't where you're supposed to be." His eyes were uncharacteristically kind for a moment before returning to their typical cynical, wary gaze.
"I wonder if I'm ever where I'm supposed to be."
"One day, Red. And now you're back to Buffy's place, which is definitely where you're supposed to be right now. I've got to catch up for the rest of the sweep, so I'll just say goodnight here." He nodded and leapt off the porch, vanishing into the bushes with a swish of a duster.
The pair stood in the evening for a few moments, looking out at the street. It was quiet and empty, a far cry from that morning's hustle and bustle of suburban life. Willow turned the doorknob and started up the stairs. A few steps behind her, however, Draco stopped when something caught his eye.
On the low table near the sofa was the pile of books that Dawn had dropped that morning. The covers were bright, mostly reddish, with pastel drawings of children and fantastic animals. Across the top cover were blazoned the words Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. He froze for half a second before swooping up all four.
"The books, these are the books!"
Willow turned, nodding. "Dawn must have left them out for you. Why don't you bring them to bed?"
Even if she'd tried to pry them from his fingers, he wasn't letting go. His world, novels here, but his world none the same. He couldn't wait to get them open. Willow shook her head with a smile.
"Come on, Coyote, you can read upstairs. I'm pooped." He bounded up after her eagerly, stopping briefly in the bathroom to brush his teeth and scrub the dirt off of his fingers before hurrying down the hallway and flopping down on Willow's bed. She crawled in after him, curling up along his side, her head pillowed on his chest. He ran one hand through her hair, the other holding the book propped open to the first chapter.
"Finally," he whispered, turning the page. Willow just smiled and flipped off her bedside light. The glow from the far lamp was enough to illuminate his shadow on the wall, head bent, reading intently. The only sound was the gentle rustle of turning pages
Chapter 28The minutes ran by, accented by the quiet rustle of turning pages. Willow had fallen asleep directly, her hand curled around the waistband of Draco's pants, one finger looped through the drawstring. Her head was pillowed near his shoulder, and periodically he reached over to run his fingers through her hair, smiling as she nestled closer. Her closeness, however distracting, was not enough to draw his attention away from the books. The Harry Potter and the 'insert various whatevers here' books.
He was absolutely riveted.
On the surface level, the writing was much more sophisticated than he would have thought, with good use of imagery and language. This Rowling lady, he assumed it was a lady, had a wicked turn of phrase and obviously knew her stuff. His world seemed so much more fun and magical seen through the eyes of someone new. Rowling made the entire thing sparkle, and he wished he'd remembered how beautiful it could all be. Too often recently, he'd found it frustrating, probably due to that pesky impending Dark Mark thing this summer.
On the more primal level, the books gave him goose bumps and a weird sense of vertigo. This was his world, his life, spread out for all the world, not his world, but a world, to see. It was as if someone was watching him, them, all of them, scribbling things down. He wanted to turn his shoulder to see if someone was still writing, stealing little bits of his life and self, putting them down on parchment in perfect lettered script.
Creepy, but informative. Perhaps he'd viewed his world with the narrow lens of youth before, seeing only the things that affected him directly, the things and occurrences that made him who he was. It was self centered, surely, but he didn't really think that anyone else had a better way of going through life. He looked around the bedroom and felt as if he were tilting, as if he were walking on icy ground, inclined just enough to skitter him downhill off kilter. Maybe this was what changing one's perspective felt like, sliding slightly sideways. Reading these books gave him so much more to think about. As a result, as he put down book two at two thirty in the morning, and picked up book three, he'd come to several conclusions.
Firstly, that he'd hated Harry Potter for all the wrong reasons. He'd always assumed that Harry wanted all the attention lavished on him by the wizarding world. After all, it was Draco's primary goal in life to seek attention and get his father to notice him. On further reading, however, it appeared that Harry's distain of the public eye was not a front, and he absolutely loathed the fame. Interesting. Harry had the attention Draco wanted, and acted as if it didn't matter to him. That infuriated Draco to end, the casual, almost antagonistic, dismissal of the desired attention. But Harry hadn't behaved that way as a personal affront to Draco's sensibilities, it seemed. Harry had pretty much distrusted him from the minute they laid eyes on each other; maybe it was Weasel's doing. Maybe it was the Malfoy vibe. You pretty much loved it or hated it. Guess Harry wasn't a lover.
He should have hated Harry because he got away with it all. He was a Malfoy, the privileged ones. He was supposed to have gotten the special favors, the secret nods, the ability to do whatever he damn well pleased whenever he wanted to. But no. Harry and his minions could run rampant all over everywhere, wreaking havoc and they got called heroes. It was pathetic, patently unfair, and obviously the reason the books were named after Harry. Though, Draco Malfoy and the Magical Life Enhancing Shiny Rock had a nice ring to it.
Secondly, he realized that Harry's life was considerably, how would Willow say it?, suckier than he could have imagined. He was only through the first two books, but Harry had been locked in a closet under the stairs, for years apparently, spent part of a summer locked in a barred room, had to live with Muggles so Mugglish that they should be hexed on principle, and was generally pretty unhappy. Didn't make Draco like him any more, but it did give pause to his image as the perfect Golden boy. Draco had always thought that Harry had been putting them on with the shy, quiet, self effacing manner. If he'd had to live with those Dursleys, Draco was pretty sure he would have tried to make himself as invisible as possible, too. Erugh.
Thirdly, he finally understood why Crabbe and Goyle had acted so weird during the winter holidays their second year. They were going to get a chewing out for eating strange floating pastries when he got back. Honestly, how thick could they get? At least Granger had been turned into some weird sort of hybrid cat. Wonder if she'd taken on any personality from Millie's cat; the thing was absolutely vicious. It used to lurk around corners and pounce on unsuspecting passersby, sinking its tiny perfect teeth into tender ankles and leaving blood trails on half of Slytherin house's socks. It certainly would explain a lot.
He yawned as Willow turned over and pushed her back up against him, nudging him closer to the edge of the bed. He put the book down and leaned down to kiss her forehead. His Willow had said yes. He grinned. She said yes. Screw fame, he'd found something better. And his father was definitely going to notice him now…
He flipped the book back open.
Fourthy, he discovered that as much as these books were All About Harry, there was some part of them about him as well. And much to his discomfort and dismay, he was, in fact, a little shit. No way around it, he, Draco Kyanitus Malfoy, was an insufferable prat. He hadn't expected that. Sure, he remembered doing all those things, but they didn't seem so petty and, well, stupid. Or, he remembered having a really good motivation for them at the time. Not good as in morally good, but he remembered them making a whole heckuva lot more sense.
At least his father made him look better in comparison. Honestly, did his dad really think it was a good idea to threaten a student in school? Really. No wonder he lost a house elf. He rolled his eyes. Not that Dobby was much of a loss as far as he was concerned; the house elf was definitely one of the more obnoxious of the staff. Anyway, this was only through his second year; he could only imagine how he came across later. Two more books to go, and the night was still young. Time to find out.
*** *** ***
Willow yawned, stretched and rolled over. She let out a small eep as she came face to face with a drooling Draco, his head pillowed on page 443 of The Goblet of Fire. His hair had come loose and cascaded down around his face, fluttering in the breeze of soft snores. He had huge purple bags under his eyes, and an errant crease or two on his cheeks from sleeping on literature. He made no move as she carefully edged out of bed, checking the clock as she went.
9:36 AM
That would explain why the house was so quiet; everyone was gone. She grabbed a few old clothes from the closet, strangely missing the comforting familiarity of robes and layers, and wandered into the bathroom for her morning ritual. Dressed in pair of soft green cords and a long sleeved cream colored shirt edged with ivy leaves, she peeked in at Draco. He was still sleeping, curled up around her pillow now that she'd left. She closed the door and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.
Left over pizza, cereal, eggs, toast, some sort of pasta, soup, and a wilted head of lettuce.
She thought for a moment and went for toast with peanut butter. She heated up a cup of mint tea and went out to the front porch to munch. The street behaved much as it had the day before, casual normal lives winding on. She thought for a moment what she should do with the rest of her morning, so bright and blue in a way that only Southern California can pull off in winter. Things were actually greenish, not dried and brown, and the brisk breeze pushed the smells of the sea inland.
She decided on a walk, but a walk to no where in particular. The cup was washed and left to dry and she grabbed one of Dawn's light coats as she went out the door. She didn't figure she'd mind too much, and she did plan on being back before school let out. It was cool, but pleasant in the sunshine, enough so that she left the coat unbuttoned.
She walked first on the same route she'd taken the night before, turning into the cemetery before she even noticed what she was doing. So much time spent in cemeteries, but she hadn't missed it one bit in England. Sure, some things were dangerous there, but it wasn't the nightly fight to stay off the menu or out of the ritual like it was here. The graves seemed peaceful in the daylight, not harbingers of possible walking death. A casual caress of a stone angel, and she continued.
Next she found herself walking into town. The Bronze was still there, closed during the daytime, but obviously still doing wonderful business. It advertised a trio of bands for the weekend, but none Willow had ever heard of.
The college campus came up on her right, and she mentally rolled her eyes. What a mess she had made of last semester. She had no idea whether or not the university would even accept her back, given that she'd pretty much disappeared at the end of the semester, no paper work to show where she'd gone. She wandered around the grounds for almost an hour, but it was more painful than she'd imagined. There was the bench were Glory sucked Tara's mind away, there was the frat house turned into a Fear Factor gone postal, here was the coffeehouse where Cave Buffy had rescued her and that twit Parker from the fire, there was where she and Oz had picnicked only days before he'd boinked Veruca. It was almost too much, the memories, and as she passed Stevenson Hall, she sat down, wrapping her arms around her torso.
"This was my life." A passing student looked at her strangely but kept walking. Willow didn't see him. "But it isn't anymore." She took a deep cleansing breath and centered herself, sending tendrils of her magic out. The magic here felt different, darker and harsher. The Hellmouth at work, she thought. There were threads, however, that glowed like fire, bright spots of healthy magic, or at least balancing magic. It was not all evil, the magic of the Hellmouth; like all magic it was what you made of it. Willow smiled faintly; maybe it meant that her magic wasn't all dark as well. She drew her magic back and opened her eyes. The world looked the same, but she'd found some manner of peace again.
Continuing her walk, she headed downtown. The coffee shop that Giles sang in, the ice cream store that lured her away the night she found out about vampires, and lastly the Magic Box. She wasn't sure what brought her feet here, but when it came into view, she stopped, hugging the shadows under an overhang. Rough clad workmen herded in carrying sacks and boxes, their shirts stained dark from sweat, dust covering their faces. Willow edged closer until she could see the outline of Anya and Giles discussing some plans with a contractor.
She almost fled right then, but something made her stay. The same something that caused her to stand up to her friends last night drove her to open the door to the shop, offering a faint smile as Anya turned her way.
With one raised eyebrow, Anya spoke, "You aren't going to destroy the shop again are you? We just all the plumbing hooked up. If you wish to destroy something, please go next door; they serve terrible hamburgers."
Willow's mouth dropped open. "Erm, Anya, hi. I don't want to destroy anything. I just wanted to see if you and Giles wanted to have a late lunch. Though, maybe not next door, since apparently the food isn't that good."
Giles turned, finished with the contractor for the moment, and pulled off his glasses. "Willow. It's about time for a break, don't you think Anya? I'd love to join you for lunch."
Anya gave the red head a measured look and dashed behind the counter, fishing up her purse. "Sure! The Italian place down the road is pretty good. I could really go for some gnocchi."
Giles held the door for the ladies as they walked out into the early afternoon. The vengeance demon kept up a steady prattle on the way to lunch, pausing only to have Giles open the next door for her.
"So, Willow, what brings you here today? We thought you'd be home snogging your honey or whatever they say in England."
Blinking, Willow stuttered a bit. "S-s-snogging? Ah, he's asleep. I think he stayed up all night reading the Harry Potter books Dawn left for him. I found him halfway through book four this morning."
Anya raised an eyebrow. "That must have been a bit of a shock for him."
Willow rolled her eyes, "A whole world of yes. I'm sure I'll hear all about it when I get back later. So what's good here?"
They chatted about the menu for a moment, and the waiter took their orders. As he walked away, Willow reached for her water glass, but never got to take a drink as the woman across from her let out a shriek.
"Sweet fires of Alghenot! Is that a ring!" Anya grabbed her hand quickly, turning back in forth in the light. Willow blushed a deep pink as Giles leaned forward to add his own inspection.
"It looks like a ruby, two carats or so? Maybe from Thailand, but perhaps not. Hard to say without a closer look at the inclusions." Both women turned incredulous eyes his way. "Ah… rubies are useful for catching essences for spells. Incidentally, they're also the historical engagement ring for European nobility before this whole diamond nonsense. They symbolize passionate love and are supposed to represent the emotional fire of a relationship."
"You weren't wearing this when you showed up…" Anya trailed off accusingly.
"Ah, no." Willow took a deep breath. "That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you both about. Last night, Draco asked me to marry him. And I said yes." Anya squealed again. "But it's kinda an afterthought since we're technically already married." The squealing stopped.
Giles polished his glasses. "What?" He tilted his head. "Did we hear you right?"
"I know you already guessed this, Giles, but the bond, the dragon on my chest, means more than a mental link. It's called Anima Conligato, and it means soul bound. Supposedly, it binds us for all eternity in some sort of spiritual marriage. We've not been through the whole 'legal' bit yet, and he sorta forgot to ask me at all before the binding, so he brought his great grandmother's ring to do it right." She blushed again.
The honey blonde regarded her for a moment. "Are you happy?"
Breaking out into a huge smile, Willow chirped out, "Oh, yes. I mean, he did it all backwards, but he still got there in the end. And I know we're young, but given the way life is around here, you never know who's going to be eaten, or sacrificed, or sucked away to another dimension. For once I took Buffy's advice to seize the day, and I think it works. Or, it has the potential to." She stopped to take a breath, and Giles laid his hand on her arm.
"Then we're happy for you. Everyone has made questionable decisions, so not a one of us is liable to throw stones. As long as it's what you want." He smiled faintly, a paternal sort of smile, and Willow beamed.
"Thanks. And that brings me to the second reason I'm here." The glow faded from her face and she looked serious. "I need to apologize. First, for trying to kill both of you. Second for not trusting you when you saw that I had a problem dealing with my magic." She looked up hopefully. Anya was giving her that measured look again, and Giles merely seemed thoughtful. "I know it's a lot to forgive, and I'm not hoping for anything now. But I needed to say it."
"Well, I can't say I'm happy with what you did. After all, you hurt my money and, well, me. But it wasn't anything I wouldn't have done in your place. Hey, vengeance demon after all." Anya's lips quirked up in a smirk. "Though, I would have been much more likely to go with boils and blinding torment." Willow almost laughed.
Giles murmured, "Thank you, Willow. Neither are easy things to forgive. It may take time, but luckily, that's one thing we have." She smiled a bit uneasily. "Now, it appears that lunch is here. Shall we eat?"
*** *** ***
Walking home after lunch, Willow felt a certain weight had been lifted. There was only one more person to talk to, and hopefully she could catch Dawn later. The rest of lunch had gone smoothly enough, Anya supplying enough conversation for three lunches, and Giles adding commentary where necessary. They had developed a surprising closeness, and Willow wondered if there was more there than anyone said. Anya did seem happier, and Giles didn't reprimand her choice of conversation material once. It certainly gave Willow pause for thought.
She climbed the stairs, intending to check on Draco, when a partially open door caught her attention. It opened to the master bedroom, her room, Tara's room, and she paused. She gently pushed it open the rest of the way, stepping in. Immediately she was assaulted with images from that day, the last day, the day her world fell to dust. She could see Tara silhouetted from behind, the golden late afternoon sun setting her hair aglow, the blinding happiness she felt when they'd put their past behind them and decided to start over. And then the window broke, and it all ended. Willow didn't even know she was crying until two strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her close, and she dripped hot tears over pale skin.
"Hey you." Draco's voice rumbled through his chest, the vibrations tickling her cheek. She sniffled and looked up.
"You're naked."
He grinned. "Not completely, but I could be if you wanted." He tugged at the towel and elicited a tilt in her lips.
Still sniffling, she pushed away, walking to the window. "I used to be a hero, you know."
"Pardon?" He came to stand behind her, looking out into the back yard.
"Before. I used to be a hero."
"Hmmm, you mentioned that, I believe."
"And then one day it changed. I became the evil we fought, right here in this very room. And I loved it."
He laid a hand on her shoulder. "But now?"
She laughed, softly, bitterly, "Now?"
"What are you now?"
"Not evil anymore, I don't think. But not a hero either. No black or white for this witch."
"Firestarter, there is rarely black or white to anyone." She turned away from the window and the pain it reflected. He looked down at her, his face serious for once. She reached up and traced his lips with her finger.
"What about to you?"
He laughed. "Hardly black or white."
"You could be a hero, you know." He quirked his brows, amused light dancing in his eyes. "OK, so maybe Slytherins aren't usually heroes. But you came for me."
He nodded. "I did, but it was hardly with noble intentions. Entirely self serving, I assure you." He pulled her close. "As I said before, I hate to lose what's mine."
She snorted. She felt a wave of possession from him and frowned. "Why is that?"
"What?"
"That I feel some things and not others?"
Tilting his head, wet hair clinging to his skin, he thought for a moment. "I don't know. I was thinking about this earlier, and I decided that it may have to do with leakage. Maybe."
"Leakage?"
"You know, that there's too much and some thoughts or emotions just spill over?"
She nodded, "That makes sense. But it could be a real problem if we were ever in danger."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes. When those vampires were mashing me into pulp, I tried to apparate away. Unfortunately, that was right as a huge wave of misery came from you, and phfft. No apparating."
She started guiltily at that. "I might have a way to fix some of this. I did a spell once where I sort of melded with another witch. We could see through each other somewhat, and it made working magic together easier. Maybe if we give the magic a free path, it can get evened out and we can work on a more stable way for this bond to… bond… or whatever."
"Tara?" He wondered at her composure at his question. He hadn't meant to say anything; it just popped out. Being in the room where she'd died, he half expected his Firestarter to burst into tears again. Not that he minded comforting her, especially since it meant holding her close, but he never had much experience dealing with crying women. His mother had never cried in front of him, and the girls in his house were more likely to cry because of him than in front of him. Thankfully, she merely smiled faintly at some memory and cut her eyes away.
"Yeah… Anyway, I have some candles and herbs around here somewhere if you want to try." And suddenly she was blushing.
He arched an eyebrow and tugged her gently to the door. "Sure. Lemme get dressed a bit more though, just in case something goes wrong."
She fluttered a smile. "Well, it has been a while, but I think I can manage it." He walked into her room and she dashed downstairs to root through the spice cupboard. She fished out an old container of rosemary, a twist or two of thyme, and three candles from the dining room. On her way through the living room, she bent down to look under the writing desk. Taped carefully to the back wall was a small plastic baggie, full of a mélange of smushed herbs. She let out her breath, not aware that she'd been holding it, and trotted up the stairs again.
Draco was dressed in another version of Slytherin workout wear, and Willow motioned for him to sit on the floor. She pulled two pillows from the bed and sat cross legged in front of him. Lighting the candles between them, she handed Draco a pillow to put behind him and sprinkled the herbs around them in a circle.
"I couldn't find any of the sand we used before, so hopefully this combination of herbs will work as well." He looked a bit skeptical. "Trust me." He nodded and she reached across and took both his hands in hers, joined over the flames.
"This may feel a little bit weird." She closed her eyes and mumbled something under her breath. Suddenly, a flash of pink tinged light burst between them, knocking them back against their pillows, hands still entwined.
Chapter 28
The minutes ran by, accented by the quiet rustle of turning pages. Willow had fallen asleep directly, her hand curled around the waistband of Draco's pants, one finger looped through the drawstring. Her head was pillowed near his shoulder, and periodically he reached over to run his fingers through her hair, smiling as she nestled closer. Her closeness, however distracting, was not enough to draw his attention away from the books. The Harry Potter and the 'insert various whatevers here' books.He was absolutely riveted.
On the surface level, the writing was much more sophisticated than he would have thought, with good use of imagery and language. This Rowling lady, he assumed it was a lady, had a wicked turn of phrase and obviously knew her stuff. His world seemed so much more fun and magical seen through the eyes of someone new. Rowling made the entire thing sparkle, and he wished he'd remembered how beautiful it could all be. Too often recently, he'd found it frustrating, probably due to that pesky impending Dark Mark thing this summer.
On the more primal level, the books gave him goose bumps and a weird sense of vertigo. This was his world, his life, spread out for all the world, not his world, but a world, to see. It was as if someone was watching him, them, all of them, scribbling things down. He wanted to turn his shoulder to see if someone was still writing, stealing little bits of his life and self, putting them down on parchment in perfect lettered script.
Creepy, but informative. Perhaps he'd viewed his world with the narrow lens of youth before, seeing only the things that affected him directly, the things and occurrences that made him who he was. It was self centered, surely, but he didn't really think that anyone else had a better way of going through life. He looked around the bedroom and felt as if he were tilting, as if he were walking on icy ground, inclined just enough to skitter him downhill off kilter. Maybe this was what changing one's perspective felt like, sliding slightly sideways. Reading these books gave him so much more to think about. As a result, as he put down book two at two thirty in the morning, and picked up book three, he'd come to several conclusions.
Firstly, that he'd hated Harry Potter for all the wrong reasons. He'd always assumed that Harry wanted all the attention lavished on him by the wizarding world. After all, it was Draco's primary goal in life to seek attention and get his father to notice him. On further reading, however, it appeared that Harry's distain of the public eye was not a front, and he absolutely loathed the fame. Interesting. Harry had the attention Draco wanted, and acted as if it didn't matter to him. That infuriated Draco to end, the casual, almost antagonistic, dismissal of the desired attention. But Harry hadn't behaved that way as a personal affront to Draco's sensibilities, it seemed. Harry had pretty much distrusted him from the minute they laid eyes on each other; maybe it was Weasel's doing. Maybe it was the Malfoy vibe. You pretty much loved it or hated it. Guess Harry wasn't a lover.
He should have hated Harry because he got away with it all. He was a Malfoy, the privileged ones. He was supposed to have gotten the special favors, the secret nods, the ability to do whatever he damn well pleased whenever he wanted to. But no. Harry and his minions could run rampant all over everywhere, wreaking havoc and they got called heroes. It was pathetic, patently unfair, and obviously the reason the books were named after Harry. Though, Draco Malfoy and the Magical Life Enhancing Shiny Rock had a nice ring to it.
Secondly, he realized that Harry's life was considerably, how would Willow say it?, suckier than he could have imagined. He was only through the first two books, but Harry had been locked in a closet under the stairs, for years apparently, spent part of a summer locked in a barred room, had to live with Muggles so Mugglish that they should be hexed on principle, and was generally pretty unhappy. Didn't make Draco like him any more, but it did give pause to his image as the perfect Golden boy. Draco had always thought that Harry had been putting them on with the shy, quiet, self effacing manner. If he'd had to live with those Dursleys, Draco was pretty sure he would have tried to make himself as invisible as possible, too. Erugh.
Thirdly, he finally understood why Crabbe and Goyle had acted so weird during the winter holidays their second year. They were going to get a chewing out for eating strange floating pastries when he got back. Honestly, how thick could they get? At least Granger had been turned into some weird sort of hybrid cat. Wonder if she'd taken on any personality from Millie's cat; the thing was absolutely vicious. It used to lurk around corners and pounce on unsuspecting passersby, sinking its tiny perfect teeth into tender ankles and leaving blood trails on half of Slytherin house's socks. It certainly would explain a lot.
He yawned as Willow turned over and pushed her back up against him, nudging him closer to the edge of the bed. He put the book down and leaned down to kiss her forehead. His Willow had said yes. He grinned. She said yes. Screw fame, he'd found something better. And his father was definitely going to notice him now…
He flipped the book back open.
Fourthy, he discovered that as much as these books were 'All About Harry', there was some part of them about him as well. And much to his discomfort and dismay, he was, in fact, a little shit. No way around it, he, Draco Kyanitus Malfoy, was an insufferable prat. He hadn't expected that. Sure, he remembered doing all those things, but they didn't seem so petty and, well, stupid. Or, he remembered having a really good motivation for them at the time. Not good as in morally good, but he remembered them making a whole heckuva lot more sense.
At least his father made him look better in comparison. Honestly, did his dad really think it was a good idea to threaten a student in school? Really. No wonder he lost a house elf. He rolled his eyes. Not that Dobby was much of a loss as far as he was concerned; the house elf was definitely one of the most obnoxious of the staff. Anyway, this was only through his second year; he could only imagine how he came across later. Two more books to go, and the night was still young. Time to find out.
*** *** ***
Willow yawned, stretched and rolled over. She let out a small eep as she came face to face with a drooling Draco, his head pillowed on page 443 of The Goblet of Fire. His hair had come loose and cascaded down around his face, fluttering in the breeze of soft snores. He had huge purple bags under his eyes, and an errant crease or two on his cheeks from sleeping on literature. He made no move as she carefully edged out of bed, checking the clock as she went.
9:36 AM
That would explain why the house was so quiet; everyone was gone. She grabbed a few old clothes from the closet, strangely missing the comforting familiarity of robes and layers, and wandered into the bathroom for her morning ritual. Dressed in pair of soft green cords and a long sleeved cream colored shirt edged with ivy leaves, she peeked in at Draco. He was still sleeping, curled up around her pillow now that she'd left. She closed the door and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.
Left over pizza, cereal, eggs, toast, some sort of pasta, soup, and a wilted head of lettuce.
She thought for a moment and went for toast with peanut butter. She heated up a cup of mint tea and went out to the front porch to munch. The street behaved much as it had the day before, casual normal lives winding on. She thought for a moment what she should do with the rest of her morning, so bright and blue in a way that only Southern California can pull off in winter. Things were actually greenish, not dried and brown, and the brisk breeze pushed the smells of the sea inland.
She decided on a walk, but a walk to no where in particular. The cup was washed and left to dry and she grabbed one of Dawn's light coats as she went out the door. She didn't figure she'd mind too much, and she did plan on being back before school let out. It was cool, but pleasant in the sunshine, enough so that she left the coat unbuttoned.
She walked first on the same route she'd taken the night before, turning into the cemetery before she even noticed what she was doing. So much time spent in cemeteries, but she hadn't missed it one bit in England. Sure, some things were dangerous there, but it wasn't the nightly fight to stay off the menu or out of the ritual like it was here. The graves seemed peaceful in the daylight, not harbingers of possible walking death. A casual caress of a stone angel, and she continued.
Next she found herself walking into town. The Bronze was still there, closed during the daytime, but obviously still doing wonderful business. It advertised a trio of bands for the weekend, but none Willow had ever heard of.
The college campus came up on her right, and she mentally rolled her eyes. What a mess she had made of last semester. She had no idea whether or not the university would even accept her back, given that she'd pretty much disappeared at the end of the semester, no paper work to show where she'd gone. She wandered around the grounds for almost an hour, but it was more painful than she'd imagined. There was the bench where Glory sucked Tara's mind away, there was the frat house turned into a Fear Factor gone postal, here was the coffeehouse where Cave Buffy had rescued her and that twit Parker from the fire, there was where she and Oz had picnicked only days before he'd boinked Veruca. It was almost too much, the memories, and as she passed Stevenson Hall, she sat down, wrapping her arms around her torso.
"This was my life." A passing student looked at her strangely but kept walking. Willow didn't see him. "But it isn't anymore." She took a deep cleansing breath and centered herself, sending tendrils of her magic out. The magic here felt different, darker and harsher. The Hellmouth at work, she thought. There were threads, however, that glowed like fire, bright spots of healthy magic, or at least balancing magic. It was not all evil; the magic of the Hellmouth; like all magic it was what you made of it. Willow smiled faintly; maybe it meant that her magic wasn't all dark as well. She drew her magic back and opened her eyes. The world looked the same, but she'd found some manner of peace again.
Continuing her walk, she headed downtown. The coffee shop that Giles sang in, the ice cream store that lured her away the night she found out about vampires, and lastly the Magic Box. She wasn't sure what brought her feet here, but when it came into view, she stopped, hugging the shadows under an overhang. Rough clad workmen herded in carrying sacks and boxes, their shirts stained dark from sweat, dust covering their faces. Willow edged closer until she could see the outline of Anya and Giles discussing some plans with a contractor.
She almost fled right then, but something made her stay. The same something that caused her to stand up to her friends last night drove her to open the door to the shop, offering a faint smile as Anya turned her way.
With one raised eyebrow, Anya spoke, "You aren't going to destroy the shop again are you? We just all the plumbing hooked up. If you wish to destroy something, please go next door; they serve terrible hamburgers."
Willow's mouth dropped open. "Erm, Anya, hi. I don't want to destroy anything. I just wanted to see if you and Giles wanted to have a late lunch. Though, maybe not next door, since apparently the food isn't that good."
Giles turned, finished with the contractor for the moment, and pulled off his glasses. "Willow. It's about time for a break, don't you think Anya? I'd love to join you for lunch."
Anya gave the red head a measured look and dashed behind the counter, fishing up her purse. "Sure! The Italian place down the road is pretty good. I could really go for some gnocchi."
Giles held the door for the ladies as they walked out into the early afternoon. The vengeance demon kept up a steady prattle on the way to lunch, pausing only to have Giles open the next door for her.
"So, Willow, what brings you here today? We thought you'd be home snogging your honey or whatever they say in England."
Blinking, Willow stuttered a bit. "S-s-snogging? Ah, he's asleep. I think he stayed up all night reading the Harry Potter books Dawn left for him. I found him halfway through book four this morning."
Anya raised an eyebrow. "That must have been a bit of a shock for him."
Willow rolled her eyes, "A whole world of yes. I'm sure I'll hear all about it when I get back later. So what's good here?"
They chatted about the menu for a moment, and the waiter took their orders. As he walked away, Willow reached for her water glass, but never got to take a drink as the woman across from her let out a shriek.
"Sweet fires of Alghenot! Is that a ring!" Anya grabbed her hand quickly, turning back in forth in the light. Willow blushed a deep pink as Giles leaned forward to add his own inspection.
"It looks like a ruby, two carats or so? Maybe from Thailand, but perhaps not. Hard to say without a closer look at the inclusions." Both women turned incredulous eyes his way. "Ah… rubies are useful for catching essences for spells. Incidentally, they're also the historical engagement ring for European nobility before this whole diamond nonsense. They symbolize passionate love and are supposed to represent the emotional fire of a relationship."
"You weren't wearing this when you showed up…" Anya trailed off accusingly.
"Ah, no." Willow took a deep breath. "That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you both about. Last night, Draco asked me to marry him. And I said yes." Anya squealed again. "But it's kinda an afterthought since we're technically already married." The squealing stopped.
Giles polished his glasses. "What?" He tilted his head. "Did we hear you right?"
"I know you already guessed this, Giles, but the bond, the dragon on my chest, means more than a mental link. It's called Anima Conligato, and it means soul bound. Supposedly, it binds us for all eternity in some sort of spiritual marriage. We've not been through the whole 'legal' bit yet, and he sorta forgot to ask me at all before the binding, so he brought his great grandmother's ring to do it right." She blushed again.
The honey blonde regarded her for a moment. "Are you happy?"
Breaking out into a huge smile, Willow chirped out, "Oh, yes. I mean, he did it all backwards, but he still got there in the end. And I know we're young, but given the way life is around here, you never know who's going to be eaten, or sacrificed, or sucked away to another dimension. For once I took Buffy's advice to seize the day, and I think it works. Or, it has the potential to." She stopped to take a breath, and Giles laid his hand on her arm.
"Then we're happy for you. Everyone has made questionable decisions, so not a one of us is liable to throw stones. As long as it's what you want." He smiled faintly, a paternal sort of smile, and Willow beamed.
"Thanks. And that brings me to the second reason I'm here." The glow faded from her face and she looked serious. "I need to apologize. First, for trying to kill both of you. Second for not trusting you when you saw that I had a problem dealing with my magic." She looked up hopefully. Anya was giving her that measured look again, and Giles merely seemed thoughtful. "I know it's a lot to forgive, and I'm not hoping for anything now. But I needed to say it."
"Well, I can't say I'm happy with what you did. After all, you hurt my money and, well, me. But it wasn't anything I wouldn't have done in your place. Hey, vengeance demon after all." Anya's lips quirked up in a smirk. "Though, I would have been much more likely to go with boils and blinding torment." Willow almost laughed.
Giles murmured, "Thank you, Willow. Neither are easy things to forgive. It may take time, but luckily, that's one thing we have." She smiled a bit uneasily. "Now, it appears that lunch is here. Shall we eat?"
*** *** ***
Walking home after lunch, Willow felt a certain weight had been lifted. There was only one more person to talk to, and hopefully she could catch Dawn later. The rest of lunch had gone smoothly enough, Anya supplying enough conversation for three lunches, and Giles adding commentary where necessary. They had developed a surprising closeness, and Willow wondered if there was more there than anyone said. Anya did seem happier, and Giles didn't reprimand her choice of conversation material once. It certainly gave Willow pause for thought.
She climbed the stairs, intending to check on Draco, when a partially open door caught her attention. It opened to the master bedroom, her room, Tara's room, and she paused. She gently pushed it open the rest of the way, stepping in. Immediately she was assaulted with images from that day, the last day, the day her world fell to dust. She could see Tara silhouetted from behind, the golden late afternoon sun setting her hair aglow, the blinding happiness she felt when they'd put their past behind them and decided to start over. And then the window broke, and it all ended. Willow didn't even know she was crying until two strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her close, and she dripped hot tears over pale skin.
"Hey you." Draco's voice rumbled through his chest, the vibrations tickling her cheek. She sniffled and looked up.
"You're naked."
He grinned. "Not completely, but I could be if you wanted." He tugged at the towel and elicited a tilt in her lips.
Still sniffling, she pushed away, walking to the window. "I used to be a hero, you know."
"Pardon?" He came to stand behind her, looking out into the back yard.
"Before. I used to be a hero."
"Hmmm, you mentioned that, I believe."
"And then one day it changed. I became the evil we fought, right here in this very room. And I loved it."
He laid a hand on her shoulder. "But now?"
She laughed, softly, bitterly, "Now?"
"What are you now?"
"Not evil anymore, I don't think. But not a hero either. No black or white for this witch."
"Firestarter, there is rarely black or white to anyone." She turned away from the window and the pain it reflected. He looked down at her, his face serious for once. She reached up and traced his lips with her finger.
"What about to you?"
He laughed. "Hardly black or white."
"You could be a hero, you know." He quirked his brows, amused light dancing in his eyes. "OK, so maybe Slytherins aren't usually heroes. But you came for me."
He nodded. "I did, but it was hardly with noble intentions. Entirely self serving, I assure you." He pulled her close. "As I said before, I hate to lose what's mine."
She snorted. She felt a wave of possession from him and frowned. "Why is that?"
"What?"
"That I feel some things and not others?"
Tilting his head, wet hair clinging to his skin, he thought for a moment. "I don't know. I was thinking about this earlier, and I decided that it may have to do with leakage. Maybe."
"Leakage?"
"You know, that there's too much and some thoughts or emotions just spill over?"
She nodded, "That makes sense. But it could be a real problem if we were ever in danger."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes. When those vampires were mashing me into pulp, I tried to apparate away. Unfortunately, that was right as a huge wave of misery came from you, and phfft. No apparating."
She started guiltily at that. "I might have a way to fix some of this. I did a spell once where I sort of melded with another witch. We could see through each other somewhat, and it made working magic together easier. Maybe if we give the magic a free path, it can get evened out and we can work on a more stable way for this bond to… bond… or whatever."
"Tara?" He wondered at her composure at his question. He hadn't meant to say anything; it just popped out. Being in the room where she'd died, he half expected his Firestarter to burst into tears again. Not that he minded comforting her, especially since it meant holding her close, but he never had much experience dealing with crying women. His mother had never cried in front of him, and the girls in his house were more likely to cry because of him than in front of him. Thankfully, she merely smiled faintly at some memory and cut her eyes away.
"Yeah… Anyway, I have some candles and herbs around here somewhere if you want to try." And suddenly she was blushing.
He arched an eyebrow and tugged her gently to the door. "Sure. Lemme get dressed a bit more though, just in case something goes wrong."
She fluttered a smile. "Well, it has been a while, but I think I can manage it." He walked into her room and she dashed downstairs to root through the spice cupboard. She fished out an old container of rosemary, a twist or two of thyme, and three candles from the dining room. On her way through the living room, she bent down to look under the writing desk. Taped carefully to the back wall was a small plastic baggie, full of a mélange of smushed herbs. She let out her breath, not aware that she'd been holding it, and trotted up the stairs again.
Draco was dressed in another version of Slytherin workout wear, and Willow motioned for him to sit on the floor. She pulled two pillows from the bed and sat cross legged in front of him. Lighting the candles between them, she handed Draco a pillow to put behind him and sprinkled the herbs around them in a circle.
"I couldn't find any of the sand we used before, so hopefully this combination of herbs will work as well." He looked a bit skeptical. "Trust me." He nodded and she reached across and took both his hands in hers, joined over the flames.
"This may feel a little bit weird." She closed her eyes and mumbled something under her breath. Suddenly, a flash of pink tinged light burst between them, knocking them back against their pillows, hands still entwined.
Chapter 29
They slid over each other like mercury and flame. Their minds flowed backwards and forwards and they were caught helpless as the magic buffeted their fragile psyches. After eternity in a breath, there was peace, and they began their own exploration. Gently at first, as if they were afraid of the consequences, and afterwards secure and confident, finding new paths through memories, thoughts, and dreams. Neither of them knew when it changed, when their bodies realized their existence. The touch of skin on skin, so suddenly and inexplicably bare, caused them both to moan.~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Dawn slammed open the front door and tossed her backpack on the couch. Her sister followed, chatting over her shoulder at Xander.
"You know, I think it's sort of sweet."
"Yeah, real sweet. I'm still not convinced he's not some sort of evil psycho from another dimension."
Dawn scowled and walked to the kitchen, snagging three sodas. "Here. I just don't get it at all. I mean, I thought she was all 'girls' now."
From upstairs, a loud moan was followed by a thump and small crash. Xander looked pained, but the blonde only laughed. "I dunno, Dawnie. Willow always was about the person inside, rather than the interlocking parts. And it sounds like they have the interlocking parts down pat."
"Yeah. Obviously."
"So what're we supposed to do, Buff? Act happy he's here?"
Buffy frowned and swished her drink around, listening to the fizz. "I don't know what else we're supposed to do. I mean, none of us have made good decisions in the romance department."
Dawn coughed discreetly under her breath, "Vampires."
Her sister glared at her. "You're one to talk. Anyway, Willow seems to genuinely care for him, and if someone ever pulled a ring out and dropped to one knee like that for me, I'd certainly swoon."
"Someone did, remember?" Xander wiggled his eyebrows. "Wind Beneath My Wings, much."
Squinching up her nose, Buffy flopped on the sofa in the living room. "Don't remind me. I swear Willow's responsible for the whole sordid thing."
Xander sat on the floor in front of the TV and began messing around with wires. "Dawn, you up for a game?"
The girl in question dropped down next to him. "Sure, I'm always up for killing things. What do you wanna play?"
The brunette flipped through the game box, sending a glare upstairs as another loud thump and muffled scream came from Willow's room. "Anything in here for killing arrogant blonde wizards? No? How about Halo then?"
"Cool. Master Chief, sign me in!"
Buffy picked at a loose thread on the cream colored throw blanket as Dawn and Xander started the game. "It is Willow though, isn't it?"
Xander hit pause and looked back at the slayer on the sofa. He thought for a moment, brow furrowed. "Yeah, I think it is. I guess it just took me a while to see it, or should I say see her. Maybe that was our problem last year, not really seeing what went on around us. Too wrapped up in our own lives to notice everyone else's pain. Or that was my problem anyway." Dawn snorted and rolled her eyes. "But now what? We don't even know how long she's here for. Forever? Till tomorrow?" He shrugged.
Buffy scraped her hair into a pony tail and leaned back, head pillowed on the pile of pillows. "Then maybe we should do something about that." She sighed deeply and stretched her arms up. "They have to resurface, don't they?"
"Eventually." Dawn took another swig of soda. "At least, they're not with the baum-chica-bom-bom anymore."
As if on cue, the trio could hear soft voices from the upper floor. A few moments later, a very rumpled Willow and Draco appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Not expecting anyone to be home, they froze guiltily when Buffy cleared her throat. Willow gave a small fidget and brushed her fingers down the front of her shirt, straightening the rumpled seam.
"Um, hey guys." Draco merely nodded his head in greeting. Willow took a step forward, uncertain. "I didn't think you'd be home this early."
Xander flicked his gaze at the clock. "It's when we usually get home."
"Oh." Willow sighed, still unsure of her place with the three people littered around the living room. Sensing her distress, Draco wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.
Buffy sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch. "Actually, Willow, we were wondering whether you'd like to come get coffee with us." Her eyes widened. "Not that we want to get rid of you, Draco, just…"
"It's okay Buffy." Willow and Draco exchanged a wordless look and she stepped forward. "I'd love to. Draco will be fine on his own for a few hours. He promises not to get into too much trouble." The silver haired man behind her growled lightly. "I just have one phone call to make first. I'll be right back." Willow trailed her fingers lightly over Draco's arm as she walked back towards the kitchen leaving an only moderately surly wizard in her wake.
The three Scoobies on the floor looked up at him awkwardly. Buffy spoke first. "You can sit down, you know." He arched an eyebrow. Buffy patted the couch next to her and he gingerly sat, looking around the room with interest. His gaze flicked over the television and he started.
"What's that?" He breathed.
Buffy blinked and both Dawn and Xander turned to look behind them, searching for something out of place lurking on the living room wall. Seeing nothing immediately apparent, Dawn responded, "What's what?"
"The moving picture box? Is that a… what's it called… television?" He couldn't help but lean closer. "One of those Muggle things the Mudbloods are always going on about. Like a painting but not." He squinted. "But it's not moving."
Dawn giggled. "Of course not, silly; the game is paused."
"Game?"
Xander's eyebrows shot up. "You aren't familiar with the glory that is the Xbox? Dude, you are seriously deprived." Draco glared at him but Xander paid him no mind. "It's a video game system. You can play interactive games on it, using these controllers to make it work. Here, I'll show you." Xander fiddled with a few buttons and toggles, and the screen jumped to life. "You're a space warrior, really, called the Master Chief. It's your job to kill the aliens, the purple guys and these things here, on this weird ring world called Halo. You have to protect the marines while following the instructions from the AI in your helmet called Cortana." He glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Draco fall off the couch and lean closer.
Dawn handed him her controller. "See here, this button fires your gun, this one throws a grenade- you do know what a grenade is, don't you? - and these two here control how you move." Draco accepted it absently, eyes still glued onto the television where Xander's Master Chief was cutting a wide swath through some hostile somethings in a lurid shade of lavender.
"This is… it looks so, so, real! I didn't think Muggles possessed the ability to render such images without magic. There's no magic here?"
Dawn shook her head. "Nope. It's a completely magic free zone."
A light laugh from the doorway caught the group's attention. "If Crabbe and Goyle could only see you now."
He smirked in her direction. "Firestarter, love, they'd be begging for the controls. This is fantastic." He turned back to the game.
Xander handed his controller to Dawn and stood with Buffy. The slayer gently patted her sister on the head. "You two stay out of trouble, right? We'll be home in a bit." Dawn mumbled something, and the three friends walked out into the early evening.
In a matter of seconds, Draco was enthusiastically mowing down screaming aliens. Unfortunately, his skill was a bit suspect and Draco died twice in rapid succession, throwing down the controller. "What is this waiting to respawn crap?"
"There are enemies nearby, didn't you hear the lady?" Dawn continued shooting and dodging. Draco didn't bother even picking the controller back up; he merely leaned back to watch in silence.
After a few moments, Dawn said, "So…"
"So." Draco uttered noncommittally.
"Do any interesting light reading lately?" Expecting some sort of sarcastic quip, Dawn looked over in surprise as he thought for a moment before responding.
"Actually, yes. The books you left for me to read were most… informative."
"I can imagine."
"Not only am I now aware that my favorite not quite uncle was a spy for the good guys for years, but also that Granger kept Rita Skeeter in her glass jar, and that the great and mighty fighters for the light side know both more and less than my father ever imagined. Potter is a tortured hero; Weasel should have gotten his act together about Granger years ago; Voldemort is a veritable ass-hole, even to his own supporters. It's all quite fascinating, and I'm sure it made marvelous reading for you all, but there's something just not right about it." He flicked the controls around aimlessly. "I thought it'd be funny to read all about Harry the Hero Potter, but it wasn't really. No more amusing than watching my own life unfold in not so flattering detail. Not to mention seeing who and what I've got in store for my future, if Father Dearest has his way. Sobering doesn't even begin to cover it."
Dawn's eyebrows climbed higher. "Wow. And here we are thinking you're an evil, callous, dark arts practicing mini-Death Eater. You have depth. Who knew?"
He glared at her. "Har-bloody-har-har." He stared off into space briefly. "You ever have one of those times when you can't figure out how to get off the ride and it keeps spinning faster and faster, never letting you stop?"
Dawn looked down at the scar marring the skin on her forearm. "I think it's safe to say I do."
He nodded sadly. "Then you understand what my last few months have been like."
They sat there silently for a few moments, the game forgotten, lost in memories. Suddenly, Draco broke the quiet. "Remember what you said about my robes? How they were all out of fashion here?" She cocked her head. "I have a proposition for you."
The teen swiveled around, eyes glittering. "What sort of proposition?"
"I think it's time I had a new look. What do you say to becoming a fashion consultant?"
She appraised him carefully. "What's in it for me?"
Standing, Draco fished around in his pockets, pulling out a round roll of money. "Does this look like your money to you? If so, then we're going shopping. I seem to recall from Willow that you are awfully fond of new clothes. My treat?"
Dawn's face broke out into an enormous smile as she fingered the bills hungrily, a wistful look on her face. "How are we going to get there?"
He shrugged. "That's your problem. I don't do Muggle transportation and given that Willow still has my wand in her pocket, I don't see how much help I can be."
Tapping her finger lightly on her lip, Dawn thought for a moment. "Mind if we invite someone else?"
"Who?"
"You'll see. Trust me?"
"Not even remotely, no, but since you seem to know what to wear around here, go ahead." She sprang up and dashed to the kitchen phone. Draco could hear her talking animatedly to someone at the other end. In a matter of minutes, the girl was back in the living room, purse in hand.
"Alrighty then. It's all settled, she'll pick us up in about ten minutes. You ready to go?"
He looked down at himself grimaced at the rumpled, smudged image he presented. "No. Hang on, I'll be right back." The silver haired wizard dashed up the stairs leaving Dawn eagerly looking out the window. He ran back down the stairs, freshly brushed and straightened, as a low, red car pulled up outside and beeped. Dawn grabbed his arm, pulling him out the door, wherein he stopped short.
"I am not riding in that."
Dawn looked back and forth between Draco and the BMW. "It's a car. Get in."
He grimaced with a look more suited to being clawed by a litter of kittens than an afternoon outing. "It's not safe. I mean, it's got these wheel things and those… whatever they ares…"
Just then, the window rolled down and Anya's golden eyes peered out. "I convinced Rupert to lend me his precious mid-life crisis for the afternoon. Unless you plan on magicing us there and back again without your wand, you'll get your whiney wizard hiney in here."
He blinked. She didn't. Dawn grinned. "Okay then!" She opened the door and shoved him in. "So where to?" she asked as she bucked herself in the front seat.
Anya looked at a still rather alarmed Draco in the rear mirror, desperately trying to figure out what the harnesses did. "I don't think we can get to LA and back by tonight, so Sunnydale Mall? Does Buffy know where you are?"
Dawn winced, but stopped short of snarking back a reply when Draco spoke up. "It's fine. I let Willow know I'm borrowing you both for a little while." He tilted his head. "She says to meet us at some sort of metallic place at nine. Does that make sense to you?"
Anya pulled out into traffic and nodded. "Oh, yes. They mean the Bronze." She made a swooping turn around the corner, sans-turn indicator. "This driving thing has gotten so much easier with practice. I only wrecked this car twice since Willow's been gone! Isn't that wonderful?"
Dawn was twisted around in her seat, staring at him. "That was really creepy you know."
"What?"
She flitted her fingers around her head. "That mind thing. Can you do that? Read each other's mind?"
He nodded. "It seems so. Before it was sporadic and intense emotions could really do some damage to the other person. We did a spell this afternoon, trying to even out the magic a bit. It worked as far as we can tell. I used to only be able to receive- what are they? telepathic messages- from Willow, but now it seems she can hear me as well." He grinned from ear to ear. "Handy, let me tell you."
Dawn winked. "A spell? Is that what they're calling it these days?"
Draco almost managed to pull off a simultaneous smirk and blush. "Erm, yes well."
Anya swerved through three lanes of traffic. "So, Dawn tells me you want to get with the twenty first century and ditch the robes. I fully support your adventure into the commerce of our society. What kind of new look are you looking for?"
Draco thought for a moment, weighing his options. He did want to show Willow that he was capable of appreciating her history and heritage, but he wasn't sure how Muggle friendly he could ever be. That said; he didn't have the beginnings of a glimmer how people in this reality dressed. Willow had always worn robes at school, like the other professors. He gave a mental shrug. "I have no idea. I trust you two lovely ladies."
Dawn and Anya shared a wicked look. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Frozen with latte in mid air, Xander looked at Willow with confusion on his face. "Uh, Wils?" His friend was staring forward, not moving a muscle.
A beat and Willow blinked, reaching for the drink. "Sorry guys; that was Draco. He's got Dawn and Anya, and they're going somewhere together." She frowned. "He won't say where, but he's terribly pleased with himself. I told them to meet us at the Bronze at nine."
Buffy and Xander nodded slowly. Buffy took a sip of her mochachino, licking the froth from her lips. "So, telepathy, huh? Never did like it when you went poking around in our heads." Xander nodded much more vehemently this time.
Willow blushed lightly and shrugged. "Well, we were rattling around in each others psyches anyway, so this more directed way of communicating is much, much better. Besides, haven't you ever wondered what your significant other was thinking?"
Buffy grimaced. "I tried that remember? When I got that 'aspect of the demon' a few years ago, it turns out that Angel was the only one I couldn't hear. Go figure."
Xander slashed his palm through the air. "No way, no how, not even remotely interested. I'll take the mild flattery and little white lies any day." He thought for a second. "Never mind. Going that way is liable to get you eaten around here."
The three friends laughed. Buffy sighed and reached out her hand, lightly touching the back of Willow's fingers. "Willow, Xander and I wanted to say sorry for reacting so poorly to Draco's appearance." Willow opened her mouth to protest, but Buffy cut her off. "I know we're not the way we were, but that's alright. Our friendship will get better eventually, but it takes time."
Willow withdrew her fingers. "That's one of the things I wanted to talk about tonight."
Xander burst out, "You're leaving, aren't you?!?"
"But you just got here!" Buffy exclaimed, almost rising from the table. She took a deep breath and sat back down. "Do you know how much went into getting you back? How much time and magic?"
"I know, Buffy, but-"
"There are no buts! Willow, you belong here, with us. Draco can stay; we can manage to find a place for him, I'm sure."
Shaking her head sadly, Willow clutched her coffee. "I know you could. And I would, I promise. Do you remember Doyle? The friend of Angel in LA? Well, he told Angel something once that I think applies to me now. He said, 'We all got somethin' to atone for.' And it's true, we all do. My penance has just begun, and I think it has to be done in Draco's world. That's why I was sent there in the first place." Her friends were looking at her with shock. "I know this might sound strange, but I've been getting these dreams, with Tara. There's something I have to do back home, and it has to be me. I don't have a frilly heck of clue what it is, but I have to go back."
She looked at first one than the other closely. Xander looked petulant, but Buffy almost seemed to understand. She blinked green eyes, and rested her chin on her palm, elbow on the small formica table. "But it won't be the end, I promise. Draco has a way for us to return, as long as I set the spell before I leave. The same applies to sending one of you to wherever I am. I can show Anya, Dawn or Giles how to activate it as well in case of emergencies, or Anya can come leave a message for us on her own. I swear, Buffy, if you ever need me, I'll be there for you. But I can't be here for you now, not as things stand. Even if I didn't have Draco and his ties to home, I have a place there, a purpose."
Buffy nodded and looked to Xander. He sat, tears threatening and laughed harshly. "So this is it? One more day, and you're gone? What're we going to do without you?"
Willow smiled sadly, "The same thing you've been doing for months. I've seen you, the way the gang is without me, and you do just fine."
"But that doesn't mean we don't miss you."
"I know, but I guess this is what happens when we grow up."
They regarded each other in silence. Eventually, Xander shook his head. "Sometimes growing up sucks rocks." He raised his glass in a toast. "Here's to growing up, but to always remembering where you came from. Salut."
The girls raised their glasses in unison. "Salut."
Willow tilted her head. "You know, that would have been a lot more effective with alcohol."
Xander winked. "I think we can manage that tonight." He leaned over and wrapped Willow in a massive hug. "Last time you left, we never said goodbye. We just put you on a plane and off you went bad vibes and all. I don't want it to be the same this time. Sure we have trust and magic issues, but we love you. You're family, Scooby style."
Buffy squished them in a slayer style hug and whispered, "And whenever you're ready to come back, we'll be happy to have you." Willow sniffled, wiped away a tear, and hugged them back with everything she had.
Chapter 30The Bronze was dim, low lighting hiding flaws and imperfections. Pulsing music soothed angst ridden spirits and swept them away to another world, somewhere free of everyday concerns, where dancing washed the cares and woes off the soul in sweat and alcohol. Tonight's musical offering crooned and cajoled from stage, egging their audience into bliss.
In one corner, several well-dressed patrons played a game of pool, while surreptitiously watching the entry door. At three minutes past nine, a quartet of people walked through that door and scanned the crowd. The trio at the pool table broke out into grins when the young man of the group whispered softly, "Show time!"
Willow and Buffy handed Xander their coats and looked around the room as he wandered to the bar.
"I don't see them anywhere, Wils. Are you sure that he said nine?"
The redhead shrugged. "He did; I'm not sure punctuality was ever his strong suit. But I really have no idea." She turned to the vampire next to her. "Spike, can you smell them or anything?"
He gave her a funny look and sniffed. "I can smell about 50 wishful thinkers wearing entirely too much Drakkar and one poor sod who thinks his father's Old Spice was a good idea."
"Oh."
"Doesn't that nifty mind thing let you know if he's near," Buffy asked, yelling slightly over the crowd.
Closing her eyes briefly, Willow took a deep breath and relaxed. Suddenly her eyes opened. "He's here. I think he's just over-" She blinked. "There."
Spike chuckled and the slayer followed her friend's stare, her own jaw dropping open when she saw her sister and who her sister was currently beating at pool. He leaned over the table, lean legs still on the ground, and stretched his back lightly. The soft lighting reflected off the slightly metallic, steel gray button down shirt clinging to every muscle. He was wearing a pair of black pants that seemed molded to his body and square-toed buckle shoes in what Buffy could tell even from this distance were made of mouth watering Italian leather. But what made the difference from the robed or sweats wearing wizard from earlier to the Draco Malfoy of now was his hair.
Gone were the long, shining silver locks. He'd clipped it close, leaving it slightly spiky and ragged. The tips cascaded around his forehead, like a bright crown, and almost curled around his ears, which seemed to have sprouted a set of thick, small steel hoops, in the latest LA fashion. He turned then, to face them, and smirked, a wicked light playing in glacial eyes. His bruises were faded to almost nothing in the low light, and he hummed with the energy of a wild thing. Buffy turned to look at her friend, only to find Willow on the verge of tears.
Draco must have noticed the same thing, because he strode forward until he was mere inches from the witch. She raised one hand in question, almost touching his face and he grasped her fingers with her own. "Like what you see, Firestarter?"
She blinked, hiccupped, and began to cry in earnest. Draco barked out in shock, "Is it the hair? I didn't know you were so attached! It will grow back!" He looked over at the blonde in alarm. Buffy shrugged and held up her hands.
"I have no idea!"
Willow started laughing through her tears. "No, no! I love the hair, honest, I just… Well, I guess…" She sniffled again and peered up at him, green eyes bright. "No one has ever done this for me. Changed what they were to fit in because of me. I've always been the one to change, to fit, to try and…" She wiped her cheeks with her free hand.
He relaxed then, drawing her near. "I had to, to show you."
"Show me?"
"That I love you, all of you. Who you are now, and who you were."
"But you hate Muggles." Buffy had her arms crossed now, glaring. He flicked his gaze her way.
"Yes I do. But I can adapt. I have to."
Dawn's sleek head appeared over her sister's shoulder. "Yeah, that and you couldn't stand being tacky."
"Hey!"
"Well, it's true. What was it, 'Malfoy's are always at the height of fashion' or something?" Dawn was smirking now.
"Yes, well, but-"
Buffy turned to look at her sister carefully for the first time. "Dawn, what are you wearing?"
Her sister twirled, showing off her outfit of maroon pants and a sleek cream silk top. "Isn't it neat? Draco bought if for me for playing fashion consultant. You should see what he got Anya!"
Just then, a baffled looking Xander wandered up, drinks in hand. "What happened to wizard boy? He looks almost normal now." He tilted his head. "Well, normal for a GQ model. What'd you do, visit the land of Armani and Gucci?"
Anya reached around and accepted her drink. "Actually, yes. Draco had some delightful currency he decided to invest into boosting our economy. I decided that if he was going to change his wardrobe, he should do it right. They just put a Sacks in at the mall, D'Hoffryn only knows why they chose this god-forsaken sinkhole in pocket spending, and we took great advantage of a willing and helpful sales staff."
Buffy's eyes bugged out. "You took my sister shopping at Sacks Fifth Avenue?!? Oh, great. Now she's got a taste for ridiculously over priced clothes." Dawn pouted and opened her mouth to retort, but Draco beat her to it.
"Oh, so I guess that means I should take back that new leather coat I bought you."
Buffy blinked and Anya chirped, "Oh yes. He purchased merchandise for all of us, as the custom of thanking one's hosts goes. See this?" She twirled, mimicking Dawn's modeling earlier. "Matching calfskin boots and coat. Lovely shade of toffee, looks excellent with my current hair color."
They turned and sat at a recently vacated table and Willow laid her hand on the young wizard's arm. "You mean to tell me that you bought presents for everyone? With what?"
He arched an eyebrow, a gleam in his eye. "Do you mean did I conjure the money? No. I brought it with me, and as far as I know, it's valid currency. The goblin at the bank matched it to the bills in your wallet. As for the gifts? Well, Malfoy's traditionally aren't know for their generosity, I know, but I was shopping for myself, as well as for items I thought we may wish to bring back to Hogwarts with us. All we have to do is miniaturize them before we return tomorrow. I had some extra bills when I was done, so I gave them to Dawn and Anya to do what they wished. They seemed happy with the results."
Willow was looking at him with something akin to shock. "You went to the bank. With Snape. Before you came to rescue me." She shook her head. "Amazing. Only a Malfoy."
"Actually, Snape waited outside of town, curled up under a bench. I wonder what he's up to anyway, since Dumbles didn't let him come."
Willow thought for a moment, recalling her dream of the exhausted Snape, stirring cauldrons and slowly giving up hope. "I don't know…"
Dawn interjected, "Curled up under a bench? How?"
The redhead laughed lightly to diffuse the image in her mind. "He's an animagus too, Dawnie. Like Draco."
The teen turned wide eyes his way. "Is that true? You're an animagus? Like McGonagall? That is so cool."
Xander glowered, rubbing his throat. "Yeah, real cool. You just wait until he's got his jaws wrapped around your neck."
"You started it, twat." Draco glared right back, only softening when Willow cleared her throat. "Yes, Dawn. I'm a coyote, and Snape is a black fox."
Buffy turned to her friend. "What are you, Willow?"
Eyes downcast, Willow flushed. "That's sort of an interesting question. I- I guess I don't do it right. I can be both a lynx and an eagle so far, but it just depends. I could probably take whatever form I wanted."
"Oh-ho. That's what you meant." Draco narrowed his eyes. "No wonder you didn't want to say anything."
.
Willow sighed. "No." The brief pause at the table strained, reminding everyone just how much damage the past year had done to their friendships. Willow looked around the table, finally catching Xander's eyes. "You remember what you said this afternoon? We should try our toast again."Xander nodded faintly, raising his glass. The rest followed suit, Dawn grimacing at the distinct lack of alcohol in her cup. "To remembering, to growing up, to never getting old." The rest cheered him, and drank, but the awkwardness remained.
Annoyed, Draco stood, offering his hand. "Milady?" he intoned, wiggling his eyebrows. "May I have this dance?"
A faint smile curving her lips, Willow laid her palm on his. "Take me away." He escorted her to the edge of the dance floor, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her tight. This was the first time they had danced since Halloween, and unbidden, memories from that night crowded them both. She was almost sure that if she looked over her shoulder, she could see tables of students watching, pumpkin punch in goblets, black streamers on floating candles gently waving in the swirl of air rising from the dance floor. She exhaled and leaned into the embrace, into the first place she found real safety in years.
The Scoobies, still sitting at the table, watched the couple weaving amongst the dancers. Buffy spoke, wistfully, "They're not here are they? They do belong in another world."
Dawn tilted her head, and looked. Now that she knew about the wizard's other form, she could see the wildness in his stance, and could visualize the long jaw, sleek fur, wound muscles. "Yeah. Like a fairy tale."
Spike and Xander exchanged glances. "Maybe for her it is. And maybe it is best that they're going back."
Xander nodded. "Maybe. Even if it isn't, her resolve face tells me she's going anyway. There's only one thing left for Willow to do."
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Willow relaxed her death grip on his hand when he opened the door and ushered her through. The restaurant was cool and dark, decorated with frilly greenery and stone figures of ancient mythological gods. Draco raised an eyebrow at the décor, but kept his mouth shut. His love was wound up enough without the added stress of his anti-Muggle preconceptions. She talked briefly with the host and wove silently after him between tables to a secluded booth at the rear of the restaurant. Seated at the table were a severe, professional looking Muggle couple, nursing their vodka tonics and checking their watches. Willow stepped up to the edge of the booth and gave a tentative smile.
"Hello, mom, dad."
The woman looked up, as if surprised to see her daughter standing there despite having made arrangements the day before, and glanced over to the young man standing at her side. "Willow, you're late. I wasn't aware you were bringing guests. I'm Sheila Rosenberg, and this is my husband Ira." She thrust her hand forward, measuring Draco up with both sight and touch.
"Dr. Rosenberg, Sir." He nodded at each. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. I am Draco Malfoy."
"Sit, Willow. So, Mr. Malfoy. You seem to be British. How did you meet our daughter?"
Willow slid into the booth, dragging him in after her, her hand coming to rest stressfully on his knee.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm from England; my family manor is outside of Bath."
"So you must have met Willow while she was away for the exchange program. We hadn't realized she returned."
He nodded. "We only just arrived a few days ago."
Shelia frowned, narrowing her eyes. "And you only now decided to call."
"Mom!"
"It's not like you likely noticed she was gone." Draco growled out.
Ira cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. "What do you study? And what are you planning to do with your degree?"
Mindful of the grip on his leg, trying to rein his temper, he thought for a moment. "I'm studying economics, and plan to take over the family business when I get older."
Willow looked at him, at her mother and finally back at him. Shelia patted her perfect bun and straightened her suit coat. "And what might your family business be?"
A slightly feral grin twisted the corners of his mouth. "A little bit of this and that. My family has diversified its interests in the past few hundred years so that our fingers are in everyone's cauldrons." He bit back the flinch when his wife's fingernails dug through the thin material of his pants.
He was actually becoming rather fond of his new wardrobe, and had spent the better part of the morning trying on different outfits for Willow, loving her reactions. For a business lunch with her parents he went for a v-necked cashmere sweater in midnight blue and a pair of khakis. He was rather pleased with the results, but not, however, with the murderous thoughts Willow was sending his way. He straightened the smirk into a semblance of a real smile and picked up the menu. "So what do you recommend?"
They perused the menu briefly, and ordered when the waiter came back to the table. Grateful for even the momentary lapse in conversation, Willow met her mother's eyes. Shelia made no expression as she picked up her drink once more, sipping carefully.
"So, Mr. Malfoy, what exactly is your relationship to our daughter?"
He stayed silent, waiting for Willow to respond. She thought for a moment and reached her hand across the table, tilting her fingers so that the ruby shone in the candle light. "My fiancee."
Both of her parents leaned forward and looked at the ring. Neither one, however, offered a word of congratulations. Shelia turned to her husband and stage whispered, "See, Ira. I told you the lesbianism was just a phase."
Ira nodded, "I knew if we just let her little experimentation run its course, she'd see the light and leave that Tara person."
Draco was looking at them with shocked bemusement, but it was nothing compared to the anguish he felt from Willow. She withdrew her hand from the table and grabbed his leg again. He ran his fingertips over the back of her hand soothingly, but knew it wouldn't make much difference. "A phase, Mother?"
"Yes, Willow. College students often feel the need for experimentation. You worked through your rebellion, even though it took longer than we thought."
Green eyes wide, Willow leaned forward, her voice carefully neutral. "It was not a phase. I loved- love- her with every ounce of my being."
Ira waved his hand, "Then why aren't you with her? If you loved her that much, what changed?"
Stuttering with indignation, Willow took a deep breath. "Tara was shot and killed in front of me. Last summer, one of the reasons I went to study in England. Otherwise we'd still be together."
"But you don't seem to be dating women anymore. All of a sudden, like magic, poof 'you're cured'?" Shelia evidenced no concern for the fate of Willow's girlfriend, treating her death merely as a stepping stone in a case profile.
The red headed witch almost laughed. "Yes, I suppose it was magic. Just like that, Draco cast a spell and I fell madly in love." She rolled her eyes, purposefully ignoring the smug smile on the wizard's face. "You remember magic, don't you?"
Ira and Shelia exchanged blank looks. "I'm sorry Willow, but we don't know what you're talking about."
"Come on, Mom and Dad. You can't tell me you honestly don't remember trying to burn me at the stake."
"You must be exaggerating Willow, though we remember that rebellious phase as well. You believed that pretending magic was real would get you the attention you wanted. When that didn't work, you confessed to dating a musician. It really was a terribly childish thing for you to have done."
Now Willow was laughing in earnest, a desperate, dreadful sound. Draco leaned back, crossing his arms on his chest. "So you don't believe her. Did you ever take the time to ask her about her life, find out if any of it was real?"
They turned their gaze his way, and Ira shook his head. "Don't tell me you've been taken in by her wild tales, son. We raised her to only believe what you can prove. There is no proof to this claim of 'magic', and it's embarrassing to have her continue to maintain its veracity. We always believed her to be more intelligent than that."
Willow leaned to her right, picking up her bag. She pulled two pieces of snapped wood out and onto the table. Draco arched an eyebrow, surprised to see his wand sitting in the middle of lunch dishes, but said nothing. Willow looked at him, searching his silver eyes, and nodding when she felt his response.
"You want proof? Here." She lined the broken parts of the wand up and held her palm over them. She took a breath to center herself and smiled a bit when a faint blue glow emanated from her palm. The ends knitted back together quickly and smoothly, until there was no sign of the original break. She lifted it up in front of her parent's shocked faces. "One repaired wand. Here you go, sweetie, I thought you might want that back."
Draco grinned and accepted it gratefully. Shelia sputtered, for the first time losing control of the conversation. She blinked and pointed her finger at her daughter. "What are you!? That's not normal. It's not normal, is it, Ira?"
Ira looked at his only child as if she had crawled out from underneath a particularly unpleasant rotting log. "No. No, it's not."
"Mom, Dad, I'm a witch. I have been since before you tried to burn it out of me, or tried to dismiss it as a phase. It's not a phase; it's who I am. Draco is a wizard as well, and that was his wand I repaired."
Obligingly, he swished and flicked, and the salt shaker danced across the tablecloth. Shelia uttered a small shriek and swatted at it with her napkin. "Get that thing away from me! Ira, do you think Raoul still runs that clinic down in Ventura? Perhaps he can find time for an appointment for Willow and her… friend."
"I am not crazy, Mom, neither is Draco. This is who we are. Can't you accept that?"
Her father wrapped a comforting arm around her mother's shoulders. "No Willow, we can't. This is unacceptable behavior, and you know it! How dare you threaten us in this manner!"
"What? No, I'm not threatening anyone! I just want you to see what I can do." Pleading with her eyes, Willow leaned against Draco as he pulled her closer. She could feel the tears brimming, but she refused to acknowledge the hurt.
Stiff and unyielding, her parents glared at her. "You can't do anything to us; we refuse to accept this." Sheila's voice was harsh and garnered looks from the nearest tables.
Willow saw and cocked her head. "Careful, Mother, you're causing a scene. I know how much you hate that."
"How dare you speak to your mother that way!" Ira hissed, careful to modulate his voice.
"How dare I? I dare because you never acted like my mother, and as soon as you could get away with it, you abandoned me to this hellish town. Did you ever once wonder why you hadn't heard from me for months? Why I disappeared off to England in the first place; why I never stopped to say goodbye?!?" She was breathing heavily, and the dark of her pupils spread outward. Her mother glared, not remotely repentant. Willow relaxed with effort, pulling her magic back inside. "You know what? I'm going back to England tomorrow with Draco. Don't expect a wedding invitation."
"Why you ungrateful-"
Willow raised her hand, stalling Sheila's outburst. "Don't. It's not worth it for either of us. I just wanted to know what you'd do if you really looked at me. And I guess I know." She turned sad eyes to Draco and motioned with her head. "Go on. I know it's been killing you."
Draco grinned, cold and hard, teeth flashing. "Drs. Rosenberg, I must say what an informative meeting. I am so grateful I could make your acquaintance." He glanced at Willow, who nodded. He raised his wand. "Obliviate!" In the puff of green smoke, the witch and wizard stood, walking quickly away from the table. Her parents were still blinking with confusion by the time she reached the host, hands trembling.
As Willow seemed unable to speak, Draco handed the man a wad of bills and spoke softly. "Please tell the Rosenbergs that their daughter will not be joining them for lunch. They may be a bit confused, so bring them another drink." The manager nodded, having seen much stranger things in his years in Sunnydale, and calmly ordered another round at the bar.
They stalked out into the daylight. Draco lovingly caressed his wand before sliding it into his rear pocket. He turned to find the redhead staring blankly out into the street, not seeing any of the cars or passersby. He pulled her to him, wrapping her close in his arms, her head on his chest. Willow promptly burst into tears.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"There, that should do it. Is there anything else?" Draco turned, holding up another miniaturized suitcase. "You sure your parents won't notice a missing set of luggage?"
She shook her head. "No. If they didn't notice I was missing for months, I'm pretty sure my old suitcases won't raise an eyebrow. Here, take this photo album and put it in with that set of old spell books." He did as requested, watching her carefully from beneath his eyelashes.
"Are you doing alright, Firestarter? You look…"
"Tense? Tired? Frustrated?" She huffed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Before, when I left, it was all 'kaplooey' and I was gone. Now, not so much. I actually get to choose what comes with me and it's… well… harder than I thought."
She looked around at the mess Buffy's old room had become, pile of clothes, books, knickknacks, and photos. Draco had already packed up his new purchases into the trunks he bought for the occasion, and now they were merely sorting through Willow's belongings to see what would fit best, or what she thought was important to bring back to his world. The spellbooks were a definite yes, seeing as how the didn't resemble a single spellbook Draco had ever seen. The clothes and 'life junk', as she called it, were a bit harder to sort.
The circles under her eyes had only darkened after the meeting with her parents, and as she lifted one pile of shirts and set them aside, Draco was almost convinced he could still see a few tears glistening on her eyelashes. He wished he'd hexed her parents into next week, instead of settling for the rather petty memory spell that only left them disoriented and forever wondering the fate of their wayward daughter. Then again, if they really cared, they could always ask Xander. Somehow he doubted they would.
She looked exhausted, he noted. They'd apparated straight from the alley by the restaurant to her parents' house. Willow went through her belongings fairly rapidly, and they brought all her treasured childhood belongings back to the Summers' house. There, they'd unpacked all of the boxes from her time with Tara, as well as her college things. Willow had deliberately not looked through the photo albums or yearbooks, stuffing them into suitcases and trunks unopened. She left most of her clothes in the closet, reasoning that whatever she needed for clothing, she would pick up in the wizarding world. Now they were almost finished and it was time to go downstairs, explain the spells to allow them to return, and say goodbye.
With one last sigh, she sealed the last bag, handing it to him to miniaturize. As he did so, she changed back into the robes she had been wearing the night she arrived and handed him his cloak. He dropped the tiny sets of luggage and trunks into the voluminous pockets and stood, reaching for her hand.
They walked down the stairs in silence, meeting the Scoobies somberly. Giles, Anya, Buffy, Spike Xander and Dawn were waiting, standing awkwardly. Willow halfheartedly smiled and stepped forward, setting a small bag on the coffee table.
"Here are all the things you need to open a transport portal like Draco used to come through. I've set the location to be wherever I am, so all you have to do is drink up and, well, will yourself to me." Giles raised a skeptical eyebrow. "It got him here, didn't it!" Draco coughed and looked at the floor.
Giles peered briefly in the bag, noting the bottles and talismans and nodded. "Alright, Willow. If we need you, we'll drink up and come visiting. You mentioned that Anya could find you as well?"
Both Draco and Willow nodded, and Draco said, "Yes. If she can follow either one of our magical signatures and she gets close enough, this will call to us." He handed her a gold galleon. "It's enchanted to set off a 'beep' thing in Willow's earring that only she can hear. It also gives her your location, so we can come right to you." Anya's eyes lit up as the heavy gold coin hit her palm and she pocketed it happily.
They stood, the eight of them, for a moment in silence, none wanting the moment to continue. After a breath, however, Buffy reached forward and wrapped Willow in a hug. "Come back sometime."
Willow nodded, unable to speak. Xander grabbed her next, spinning her around and dropping her in front of Giles who sighed and pulled her into a hug, patting her hair. Spike reached out his hand and shook Draco's heartily, grinning as he squeezed just a little too hard. Draco smothered his wince. Anya patted him on the back, Dawn hugged him, and Xander stopped glaring long enough to shake his hand as well.
Awkwardly, as if she was afraid of rejection, Willow mumbled softly. "I'll miss you all. I promise I'll try to return someday. And…thanks. For saving me."
Buffy laughed, without rancor, and threw up her hands. "Yeah, well, trust you to ruin a good rescue. Next time, stay rescued, damn it!" Willow smiled and reached for Draco with one hand and grasped a bottle with the other. Draco did the same and popped the cork. They looked at each other, but before they could tilt the glass to their lips, Dawn jumped forward, embracing Willow tightly.
"I forgive you," she whispered into Willow's hair before she released her and stepped back.
Smiling now, Willow nodded at her husband and they both drank down the contents. Fire burned through their veins as sparks flickered on their skin. The bits of light swirled faster with each agonizing second, becoming brighter and brighter until they were engulfed in glittering golden-red flames. A nauseating, painful jerk tumbled them forward through space and time, dimensions bled by in liquid form, and with a sharp yank, the fire died down.
Trembling still, Willow cautiously blinked her eyes and looked around. Then she screamed.