Lost Legacy Cont....

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.
AN: The flashback in this chapter is taken directly from BtVS. The dialog is exactly as the script said it occurred onscreen. I have, however, added descriptives and Albus' reactions.

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Chapter Five
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"We're what?" Hermione asked, stunned. She couldn't believe it. She'd read about slayers, of course, but had never thought that she would become one! Didn't you have to be someone special first? Besides, how could she be, if the woman telling them this was a slayer. Wasn't there only one at a time? That's what she'd read, anyway.

"Slayers," the blonde, Buffy, repeated. Dawn just nodded, smiling at her and Parkinson.

"I have never killed anyone," Pansy huffed, sneering. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the blonde bimbo. Didn't she ever crack a book that wasn't required? "She said Slayer, Parkinson, not killer. There is a difference." She knew her voice had taken on rather insulting overtones, but she couldn't help it. She hated ignorance, especially ignorance that was so easily corrected.

"I should say so!" Buffy snapped.

"Slayers follow rules, one of the most important being no killing of humans," Dawn added quietly, frowning a little.

Parkinson glared at them both.

"Well, the old spiel doesn't apply much anymore--"

It doesn't? Hermione was confused, her mind whirling. Why not? she wondered instantly, but didn't have time to ask.

"-- but it goes like this. Once to each generation. . . ." As Buffy continued speaking, Hermione's shock began to wear off; not completely by any means, but enough that she could actually focus on what the slayer was really saying. She was stockpiling question, however. She already had a ton to ask, and wasn't entirely sure where she would begin when she got the chance. Parkinson, on the other hand, was beginning to look gobsmacked instead of insulted.

"I can't be!" she screeched suddenly, jumping up from her chair. "There has to be some mistake."

Dawn jumped, gasping in surprise.

"No mistake," Buffy replied calmly, as if Parkinson hadn't just interrupted her explanation.

"You don't understand!" Parkinson wailed.

Buffy let out a slow breath and nodded. "Okay, I don't understand," she agreed. "So, make me understand."

That took some of the wind out of the Slytherin's sails and the girl dropped back into her seat. "My family will kill me."

"They don't ever have to know," Buffy replied quietly, firmly, surprising Hermione.

"They don't?" she asked.

Buffy shook her head. "Most families don't know. In fact, usually, the watcher's council takes the slayers from their families the moment it's determined they are a likely potential. The council then starts training them on the off chance that they will be the next slayer called. I, apparently, was a . . . surprise, someone they didn't expect to be called, so I wasn't taken."

"That's criminal!" Hermione exclaimed, outraged.

"I wish they'd done that to me," Pansy whispered.

Hermione's jaw dropped and found her heart going out to the Slytherin girl, something she had never thought would happen. She simply couldn't imagine wishing someone had stolen her away from her family.

Dawn got up, then, and sat down beside Pansy, laying a gentle hand on her arm.

To Hermione it seemed as though the Slytherin was about ready to climb over the back of her chair just to get away from that gentle touch. That she didn't do it -- or shrug it off -- told Hermione, more than anything else, just how unsettled the other girl was.

"I think," Buffy said slowly, "that the council still has that right -- though, the old council is long dead. If it's what you want, I can ask."

Pansy brightened, her relief obvious as she dropped back against the back of her chair, letting out an explosive breath. "Please?" she asked softly, dropping her gaze to her hands.

"I'll see what I can do. I really don't know what kind of effect it's going to have, dealing with a society that already knows about slayers, though."

x-x-x

Severus led Alexander down to the dungeons, silently watching the young man. He would have spoken, tried to initiate 'small talk', but the young man himself prevented that. It was as though his son was communing with the castle. His fingertips rarely left the wall, trailing along it as they walked. He separated only when portraits or other such obstacles stood in his way. He wasn't obvious about it, though, almost as though he were doing it subconsciously.

It was the oddest reaction he had ever seen, especially in someone who seemed so very wary of magic. Hogwarts was a very magical building, after all. The very magical affects of the building and its contents didn't seem to phase the young man at all; not the moving armor, not the portraits, nor stairs; though, the latter did startle a jump and a grin out of the boy. It was a condundrum, one Severus was determined to solve.

Once he reached the portrait guarding his suite, he muttered the password and ushered Alexander inside. The boy stopped suddenly, barely inside the main room. "Your apartment?" he asked.

Severus frowned at the unfamiliar word, but nodded, the place was his after all, no matter how the boy refered to it.

"Have a seat," Severus suggested, indicating one of the two chairs near the fireplace.

Alexander nodded and sat, smiling at him nervously. "So?" he asked.

Severus could understand the nervousness. He too felt it. They were alone for the first time -- and he was in absolutely no way prepared for this. If he didn't already have an agenda, he might be more so. "When Rupert and I were speaking about whether or not you may have magic ability," he began as he took the chair next to Alexander's, "you seemed . . . upset." Terrified, more like, Severus thought silently, but didn't say, not wishing to put the young man on the defensive.

Alexander's eye widened as he froze, staring at Severus.

Only just preventing himself from frowning, Severus leaned forward a touch, not quite moving into the boy's personal space. "You appear to be friends with at least one witch and one wizard, so I don't think magic, itself, is what bothers you." Taking a deep breath, he continued carefully. "Care to explain?" he asked quietly, trying his best to sound nonaggressive, not something he was overly good at.

Shaking himself, Alexander took a deep breath and began speaking, slowly at first but picking up speed as he continued. "Magic and I have never really got along," he said quietly, chuckling ruefully. "In fact, the further apart we are the better off we both are."

Severus blinked, processing the boy's words. What he had said didn't explain a thing, but the only response Severus could come up with was cutting, so he simply kept his mouth shut and waited.

"My first direct experience with magic -- other than when Willow resouled Angel--

Resouled an angel???

--was when I blackmailed Amy into casting a love spell on my ex."

Severus rolled his eyes. Typical, he thought sourly. "Those kinds of spells don't work.

Alexander snorted in response. "That's what you think," he replied drily. "It worked, just a little too well and a little . . . wonky."

"What do you mean by that?" Severus asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Love spells didn't work; end of story.

Sighing, Alexander shook his head. And as Severus listened to the boy's experience with a 'love' spell, he could feel his jaw drop, but could do nothing about it. This was completely outside his range of experience. Of course, he admitted to himself, it could be the influence of the hellmouth. Nothing is normal on one of those.

"Of course, that couldn't be all. Drusilla, an insane vampiress, just happened to still be in town and she was affected by the spell."

Severus eyes widened in growing horror as his son related his encounter with a lovestruck vampiress.

"I nearly pissed my pants when she asked me how I felt about 'eternal life'."

Gasping, Severus shook his head. "How did you get out of that one still breathing?" he asked incredulously.

"One word, Cordelia -- the reason I had Amy cast the spell in the first place, and the only female not affected by the spell."

"Figures," Severus replied, snorting. "Did you find out why she wasn't affected?"

Alexander nodded. "Yes, she was already in love with me. I guess real love trumps magical love." Shaking his head, the boy went on to explain other instances where things had gone utterly wrong. In the end he shrugged. "After what G-man said, maybe the hellmouth had something to do with that."

To him, it sounded as though Alexander was hoping that was the case, and Severus really wanted to agree with him. Unfortunately, he knew quite well that there existed people that had the inate ability to simply . . . twist magic. It never did work right around them, not even their own spells -- should they be magically inclined. He hoped with everything he was that Alexander was not one of those people; even being a squib would be better than that. It was a very rare phenomenon, occuring in magical folk about as often as muggleborms occured in muggles, so the possibility was quite low. He finally settled with, "it's quite possible, Alexander."

His son's face twisted as he called him by name. Severus frowned and asked.

"That's what they call me," he replied bitterly. "Until today, my mother has rarely shown an interest in me at all, preferring to drink herself into oblivion."

That really didn't sound like the woman he'd known.

"Dad-- Tony Harris was even worse. For him, I couldn't do anything right."

Severus winced. It sounded terribly similar to his own childhood, but at least his mother had tried to protect him, had shown her love for him. The very unwanted visit back in time made Severus wonder whether or not Harris had ever actually hit Alexander, but didn't know how to ask. He didn't want the boy to close up on him, and he was reasonably certain that was a subject that would do it. It certainly would have, if it had been asked of him at Alexander's age -- not that anyone had ever bothered to ask. For now, he shrugged it off. It was a subject that could be raised later, when they were more comfortable with each other. It wasn't as though the boy would be under the man's influence ever again.

"Call me Xander, it's what every one I like calls me."

Nodding, Severus willingly changed the subject. "The first thing we really need to do, Xander, is test you for magic."

"How?" Al-- Xander asked, his voice cracking.

Severus then did something he hadn't done since he was a teenager himself, willingly handed his wand to someone else. He held it out, showing none of the uneasiness he felt at doing so. "Take it," he said firmly.

Xander did so, with obvious trepidation.

"Now, point it toward the floor and give it a flick."

Looking at him like he'd lost his mind, Xander followed his instructions. When the wand went off, blowing a hole in the rug beneath them, Xander was over the back of the chair before the wand he'd dropped hit the floor. "What does that mean?" he asked, his look changing to one of terror.

"It means that is not the wand for you, and that you have at least enough magic to activate a wand."

Xander shook his head fervently, backing away from where the wand lay on the floor.

His concern over Xander's reaction growing rapidly, Severus stood and slowly approached. "It's not the end of the world, Xander," he offered softly, softer than he'd been aware he could speak, and reached out, laying a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

Xander laughed, the sound more than slightly hysterical. "No, you're right. It isn't," he agreed. "That was yesterday."

Severus frowned, now confused. "What?" he asked, not entirely certain that his son was joking, not with what he'd already heard from this group.

His eyes once again grew wide with horror as the story fell from his son's mouth, shivering in several spots, despite his own brushes with evil. If he couldn't easily see the honesty rolling off the young man in palpable waves, Severus would have called the boy a liar, the tale he told unvelievable in the extreme. He'd had part of the story last night, of course, but hadn't really had time to process it all. Now, he was hearing more. He outright gasped when the realization hit just how powerful Xander's red-headed little friend had to be to activate the entire slayer line the way she had. It hadn't really ocurred to him before now. The chit had to rival Albus and the Dark lord both!

The moment the words stopped flowing, however, Severus immediately pulled his son to him, grabbing him into a tight hug, something that shocked both his son and himself immensely. The thing about it all, was that it was hitting him just how lucky he was to even have met the young man in the first place. The boy could so easily have died only a day before Severus had arrived.

Xander finally gasped, obviously having trouble breathing.

Severus leapt back, letting go as if stung, not entirely believing he'd actually hugged the boy, let along clung to him so tightly. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and didn't look at his son. "We might be able to get that eye of yours fixed," he offered into the tense silence, finally meeting the boy's gaze, desperate for anything to change the unspoken subject.

His eyes lit up. "Really?" he exclaimed.

Severus nodded, relieved that the boy seemed just as willing to be distracted. "It's certainly possible," he replied. "It depends on what kind of damage was done. If not, there's always magical replacement."

Xander blinked at him, back to looking wary. "I'm not so sure about that idea."

Smirking, Severus resumed his seat. "You'll think differently later."

"I'll have to take your word for that."

Not used to people being willing to do just that, Severus found himself at something of a loss for words and retreated into formality. "I'll have our resident mediwitch, Madam Pomfrey, take a look at it as soon as she returns to the school. In the meantime, we will go to Olivander's tomorrow and get you outfitted with your own wand.

Xander's eyes once again widened. It was beginning to be a regular look for the young man; though, he supposed it was better than the gobsmacked look of shock he'd seen on the boy a couple of times. "Willow will come with us," Xander said flatly, suddenly, eye hard and determined.

Bristling slightly at being told instead of asked, Severus had to hold back his automatic response, and let the rudeness go for once. He simply nodded. "Fine."

"Good," Xander replied just as firmly, nodding once also. He paused, physically, then sent him a rather sheepish smile. "Thanks." Returning to the chair he'd vacated so precipitously -- though he very obviously stayed as far from Severus' wand as he physically could -- Xander's smile morphed mischievously. "So, what are the two new slayers like? You teach them, right?"

Severus nodded and launched into a rather scathing description of the two girls. When his rant wound down, Xander grinned at him.

"Hermione sounds a lot like Willow, and Pansy sounds a lot like Cordelia."

Severus blanched. The boy's self proclaimed best friend was a match for the Granger girl; a Gryffindor! And his ex was like Pansy Parkinson of all people. He suddenly didn't think he'd survive being a father.

x-x-x

Willow folded herself onto the ground, breathed deeply and simply let herself sense the ambient magic of the area. Ancient white magic surrounded her in amounts she'd never sensed before -- not even while she'd been with the coven. It was a heady feeling and she let her mind drift along its current where it willed, while keeping herself firmly anchored to the earth power below her. She shied away from the darkest of magics eminating from the forest at the edge of the school grounds. That place was obviously dangerous. That she should speak to Buffy about it soon, drifted into her thoughts and right back out again.

Here, floating in the peaceful surroundings, she felt a faint echo of envy of all the students who had attended this school over the years. She couldn't even begin to imagine immersing herself in this for years. It made her wonder how different she might have been if she would have had access to this kind of magic instead of the darkness that constantly surrounded the hellmouth. Reaching out, she gently tugged on the free flowing magic and carefully sent out her senses, seeking just the right seed.

Smiling to herself, she pulled until the seed found purchase in the ground beneath her. Carefully coaxing her magic into the tiny seed, she urged it to grow. Beneath her guidance, it slowly took shape, sprouting and leafing out until a full grown, flowering plant sat in front of her. She grinned softly.

"Impressive."

Willow jumped, not having heard the headmaster's approach. "Thanks," she replied, shrugging. "It's not all that difficult really," she continued. "Everything is connected on a magical level. All you need to do is learn to feel that connection to all living things. Once you do, the rest comes, almost on its own."

"Somehow, Miss Rosenburg, I doubt your journey was quite that simple."

Willow laughed then, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, well, growing up on a hellmouth tends to skew your perspective quite a bit, so yeah, it did take me awhile." She paused, wondering just what it was about this man that made her want to talk. "And a few bad choices," she admitted quietly.

"We all make them," the headmaster replied urbanly, sitting down next to her. "It's what makes us human and keeps us humble."

Willow laughed hollowly and suddenly found herself relating her own bad choices and the events that had led up to them. Tears streamed down her face as she told of Buffy's death and their choosing to bring her back, finding out she hadn't been locked in a hell dimension after all and that they had, instead, ripped her from paradise. She told of Buffy's slow recovery of herself from that and her own descent into black magic addiction and how Tara's death had sent her over the edge -- way over the edge. She kept talking until her throat was raw and her voice hoarse, only stopping once she reached the magic box, with her standing off against Giles.

"Forgive me if I seem presumptuous," the headmaster said quietly in reply, "but you do not give off the kind of darkness such a witch as you describe would do." Standing, he held out his hand to her, and when she accepted it, he pulled her to her feet.

Willow smiled sadly. "That would be because of the coven that empowered Giles with the magic to stop me. It was wholely white magic and in a moment of desperation -- when he realized he couldn't beat me outright, I think -- he shoved it all into me." Willow shook her head, awed at the risk Giles had taken for her sake, her sake and the world's. "If he'd been wrong, no one would have been able to stop me. As it was, the white magic overwhelmed the dark magic and suddenly I was connected to the world -- every little, tiny bit of it. Unfortunately, I was still grieving, and angry, oh so very angry, and all I could feel from the entire morass was all the pain and anguish of the world."

She turned to look at the man now walking beside her and found nothing but sympathy shining in his eyes. She couldn't look away. "I decided in all my arrogant rage that if that was what the world had to offer then it was better off gone." Now lost in memory, she missed the minute flare of shock. "I called up the temple of proserpexa."

The headmaster gasped. That she noticed.

"I take it you've heard of it?"

The headmaster nodded.

"I was all set to enact the ritual--"

"You had the power to do it?"

Willow nodded, just barely noticing when they passed the front doors and back into the castle itself. "Yes. I had actually started it."

"What stopped you?"

Willow smiled sadly. "Xander."

"I was under the impression the young man didn't realize he was a wizard. That he had the power to stop you is incre--"

Willow shook her head. "You don't understand. It wasn't his magic that stopped me. It was his love."

The headmaster smiled; though, his eyes widened in surprise. "Love is a very powerful magic all its own, but--"

"It is," Willow agreed, thinking back to that day. "I'm very lucky to have a friend like him."

As the gargoyle slid aside and he ushered her up the stairs, Willow shook her head. "You are a very sneaky man, Mr. Headmaster."

"Call me Albus, please," he asked, smiling.

"Only if you'll call me Willow."

"Done." As they entered his office, he turned to face her a questioning look on his face.

"What?" she asked, wondering what the sneaky old man was up to.

"I wondered if you would allow me to see what happened that day?"

"See it?!" Willow asked, surprised and entirely uncertain whether or not she wanted to allow that. It wasn't exactly her finest moment. "How?"

"I have what's called a pensieve, it allows for viewing of memories."

"Alright then," Willow agreed, a little nervously. While she was still uncertain about this whole thing, something about the old man made her want him to know what had happened.

A few minutes later, Willow was staring down at what looked like a giant birdbath with silvery liquid in it -- some of which the hea-- Albus had drawn from her own mind. He quickly instructed her in its use and the two of them immersed themselves in her memory of her encounter with Xander on Kingman's Bluff.

Green magic poured from Willow toward proserpexa's temple, her hair and eyes jet-black, prominent veins standing out over her face. Wind whipped and swirled around her, filled with dirt and debris, reminiscent of a tornado. Lightening repeatedly struck the ground around the witch and the temple statue, which glowed a bright yellow-white.

Suddenly the stream of magic was interrupted and the statue's glow slowly subsided. Xander Harris stepped around to the front of the statue.

Willow looked quite surprised to see the young man.

"Hey, black-eyed girl. Whatcha doin'?"

"Get out of here," Willow ordered sternly.

"Ah, no," Xander replied sheepishly, shrugging. "You're not the only one with powers, you know. You may be a hopped-up uber-witch, but . . . this carpenter can drywall you into the next century."

Albus almost laughed. He may not know what drywalling was, specifically, but he suspected it was completely non-magical -- all things considered -- something that was confirmed by Willow's next words.

"I'm not joking, Xander. Get out of my way. Now," she demanded, sending a bolt of pure magic at the young man, lifting him off his feet and throwing him to the ground at the base of the statue.

Willow, still completely oblivious to the lightening storm continuing to flash around her resumed feeding green magic into the statue. Albus shuddered. Though, the color was not quite that of the killing curse, it was close enough to evoke horror. The winds picked back up, whipping around them all and, beneath their feet, the ground trembled.

Xander slowly sat up, still at the base of the statue. Carefully holding an arm across his ribs, he staggered to his feet, once again blocking the flow of magic.

The moment it stopped flowing, Willow glared at him. "You can't stop this," she said firmly.

"Yeah, I get that," Xander replied evenly, to all appearances not caring at all. "It's just. . . where else am I gonna go? You've been my best friend my whole life. World gonna end? Where else would I want to be?"

Albus was completely and utterly stunned at the rather awesome display of loyalty, courage and love.

"Is this the master plan?" Willow asked scornfully, sneering at what was being offered to her. "You're going to stop me by telling me you love me?"

Albus could hear, and nearly feel the disdain in the question.

"Well, I was going to walk you off a cliff and hand you an anvil, but . . . well, it seemed kinda cartoony."

"Still making jokes."

Xander shrugged again. "I'm not joking. I know you're in pain. I can't imagine the pain you're in. And I know you're about to do something apocalyptically--" He paused, casting a quick glance at the statue. "--evil and stupid, and hey," he continued, spreading his arms out to the side, "I still want to hang. You're Willow."

"Don't call me that!" Willow snapped angrily.

"First day of kindergarten," Xander began again, completely undeterred by the young woman's rage. "You cried because you broke the yellow crayon and you were too afraid to tell anyone. You've come pretty far since then. Ending the world? Not a terrific notion, but the thing is? Yeah, I love you." Xander took a half step forward. "I loved crayon-breaky Willow and I love . . . scary, veiny Willow. So, if I'm going out, it's here. If you wanna kill the world, well then, start with me." His eyes narrowed. "I've earned that."

Now upset, Albus noticed, Willow shook her head -- as did present day Willow beside him; though he could only spare a minute portion of his attention for her, the ongoing scene riveting.

"You think I won't?" she asked, her words more than just a mere challenge.

"It doesn't matter," he replied, sincerity ringing in his words and his body language. The young man actually meant what he was saying. "I'll still love you."

"Shut up!" Willow shouted, now seemingly enraged.

Albus suspected the rage to be born of fear, however, and watched the scene that continued to unfold with bated breath.

Willow gestured sharply, but nothing seemed to happen, until Xander's head jerked to the side, just as if he'd been hit. Three parallel cuts appeared on his cheek, bloody, looking as if his face had been deeply scratched by a set of rather wicked claws.

The young man put a hand up to them, then looked at his fingers.

Willow watched, panting, now looking just a bit nervous.

Xander looked away from his fingers, back up at her. "I love you," he said yet again.

Willow made another slashing gesture and Xander doubled over, falling to his knees. Panting, but undaunted, he climbed back to his feet. His shirt was ripped open over his heart, several more scratches visible on his chest. He continued to pant and grimaced against the pain, but faced his friend again.

"I . . . love . . y-"

Willow threw a blast of pure magic at him, interrupting him.

He staggered, but didn't fall down.

Willow's hand still held out in front of her, magic crackling around it, but obviously not as much as she expected, judging by the look on her face.

To Albus' keen eye she now seemed surprised and very nervous, as if everything she'd ever known was suddenly falling down around her.

Xander began moving toward her, and despite knowing it would eventually end well, Albus once more held his breath as he watched the incredible courage of the young man.

"I love you, Willow."

"Stop!" Willow screamed. She sent yet another blast of magic, but this time it seemed weak and barely hurt Xander at all.

He simply continued to walk toward her.

Willow continued attempting to cast at him, making the same gesture over and over. Nothing happened. Tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her face.

"I love you."

"Stop," Willow said again, this time her voice sounding more like the whimper of defeat. Suddenly crying freely, Xander finally reached her. She began hitting him, her hands curled into tight fists.

Xander simply stood there and took it.

Albus wanted nothing more than to gather both of them into his arms and hold them until their pain went away. Unfortunately, it was just a memory, and there wasn't anything he could do to help.

Eventually, Willow stopped striking out. Instead, she fell to her knees, sobbing in earnest now. Xander knelt with her, holding her while she wept.

"I love you," he whispered once again, just before Willows hair faded to red and the veins on her face and neck faded from view.

The memory faded and Albus found himself back in his office, once more standing beside Willow. He was at a completely loss. He really couldn't think of anything profound enough to say after seeing such an incredible example of the power of love, so he simply said, "Thank you," nodding once and carefully returning Willow's memory to her.

Moments later they were both seated at his desk, he behind it, she in front.

"I must admit, Willow, that you intrigue me," Albus admitted; though, that didn't come close to expressing what he truly felt. This was an amazing young woman to have come so far from what he'd seen -- not to mention to have inspired such loyalty.

Willow looked surprised, shrugging one shouldered. "Don't see why."

"From some of the comments you made earlier today, I gather you are untrained," he mentioned, holding out a dish. He wanted this woman on his staff. She had much to teach his students -- including how not to get drawn into the darker aspects of life and magic. "Lemon drop?" he asked.

Willow grinned, plucking one from the small bowl and popping it in her mouth. "I've always liked these," she admitted. "As to training, I've had no formal training, but I am not untrained. I picked it up mostly on my own. Giles helped some, and after proserpexa, I went to a coven in England, which helped me regain control of myself and my magics, and come to terms with my new power levels. I'm best at earth magics, but can do formal ritual magics as well. I don't know anything about wands, and wand magic, like Professor Snape and Xander's mother use, though."

"Indeed?" Albus replied speculatively. "You say you do all your magic wandless?"

Willow nodded, wondering where this was headed. Until yesterday she'd never even heard of wanded magic, so what else would she use.

"I have a rather interesting proposition for you."

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Chapter Six
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Xander sighed as the door closed behind him. His eye was really beginning to throb, his painkillers having worn off quite some time ago. That was the first thing he headed for, swallowing the two pills down with water from the bathroom sink. He eyed the monstrously huge bathtub eagerly. His father said he'd be back to get him in time for dinner, which would be in about an hour. That gave him a little time to clean up in a real bathroom, as opposed to the sponge type bath they'd all had in camp the last evening. It had got him clean, he was sure, but he just didn't feel clean. And maybe, just maybe, he'd have time to unwind just a little. So much had come at him in the last couple days and he felt like he was completely out of control. He needed just a little time to himself to--

A door slammed open behind him, sending him into a spin and a fighting stance automatically.

Willow came bounding into the suite and Xander sighed, letting himself relax and stepping out into the living room.

"Xander, you here?" she shouted, then zero'd in on him the moment she saw him, not giving him time to respond.

He chuckled as she grabbed him in a tight hug and with the embrace he could feel most of his fears and concerns simply slide away -- at least for the moment. Willow was his rock, his foundation in this new world.

"You'll never guess what just happened!" she exclaimed, pulling back far enough to look up at him.

He grinned, unable to resist the excited shining of her eyes, and his own worries slid just that much further out of his mind. "You've learned how to fly?"

Willow giggled, swatting his arm. "No, silly."

"Um, you've decided to join a nudist colony?" he tried, waggling his eyebrows in his best leering manner.

Willow blushed instantly, but of course, so did he, so that was only fair, he supposed. "Of course not, Xander."

"Well, then, Willow, I'm pretty much out of guesses."

"Well, if you'd let me get more than a sentence out, I'd tell you."

Xander let out a full laugh then. "You did tell me to guess."

Willow frowned for a second, then shrugged, one corner of her mouth crooking back upward. "I guess I did at that," she admitted.

"Anyways, what exciting thing has happened now, Wills?" he asked, almost dreading the answer; though, still caught up in her infectious excitement.

Willow took a deep breath, her eyes once again dancing in utter delight. "Albus offered me a job."

Xander's mouth fell open and he stared at his friend in shock. "What?" he asked. "Like a teaching job?" It was a school, after all; what other kind of job would the man offer her?

Willow nodded enthusiastically. "Teaching wandless magic."

"Wow, um . . . wow," he replied, trying to be enthusiastic for her, but feeling at something of a loss, his world falling out from under him. What happened to being here for him? He needed her right now.

Willow blinked at him, her expression melting slowly from bouncing excitement to worry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Xander exclaimed immediately. "What could be wrong?"

Xander almost winced as he watched Willow's resolve face of old form right before his eyes. He spun away to avoid seeing it. Maybe if he didn't see it, he could resist it. He really didn't want to bring down Willow's mood with his petty fea-- worries. "Have you checked out the rooms yet?" he asked brightly, purposely stalking to the door nearest him "I haven't yet," he continued hurriedly. "The living room looks cool, though."

"Xander?"

He ignored Willow's call. The moment he touched the door handle, though, he felt a warm rush of acceptance wave over him, bringing with it a measure of calm. He slumped, knowing he wasn't going to get out of this. "I'm . . . scared, Wills," he admitted, not daring to turn around and face his long time friend, his voice nearly a whisper. He really didn't like admitting he was afraid of anything. He could face demons twice his size relatively calmly, but not this new place where he had to once again worry about whether or not he would be accepted; be acceptable.

"What happened?" she asked almost as quietly, surprisingly close; close enough that he almost yelped as he spun around to face her.

"Apparently, I really am a wizard," he told her, trying to grin. It came out rather lopsided, he was sure. It only felt like half his mouth was cooperating with the move, afterall, and, somehow, he really didn't think it was very convincing.

"That's great, Xander."

Xander laughed at that, or rather, he tried to. It came out just as half-hearted as the grin had. "I'm not so sure," he admitted.

Sighing, Willow grabbed hold of his hand and dragged him back to the couch he'd been about to sit on when she'd burst through the door in the first place. "Sit," she ordered firmly.

He sat.

She kept hold of his hand, but didn't say anything else, which was of the good as far as Xander was concerned. He'd simply out stubborn her resolve face. He could do it. He so could.

"What if I still don't fit in here, Wills?" he asked after several long, agonizing minutes, whispering his very real fear. He'd almost always felt a little on the outside of everything -- barring a few exceptional instances -- especially since Buffy had come to town and he couldn't help but wonder if anything would change in this new world they'd discovered. He had a father that didn't seem to be a complete ass -- even if he had Spike's level of sarcasm, and then some. He wanted that father to be proud of him -- unlike the last one. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to go about achieving that pride. He'd always been a loser, and probably always would be. There was no way that he could make anyone proud of him.

"You will, Xander," Willow encouraged. "I'll be here to make sure of it."

He managed a thankful smile, and squeezed her hand lightly. He didn't mention that her presence hadn't helped before, especially after she and Buffy had 'clicked'. Now that Willow truly had a place here -- a job even -- he was sure the same thing would happen again. She would get caught up in this new -- and for her, exciting -- world and suddenly Xander would once again be the annoying sidekick that simply got in the way.

"Hey!" Buffy shouted, startling them both as she darted into the suite. "Either of you know how the hell, I'm supposed to get hold of Giles?" she asked, nearly breathless.

What did she do? Xander wondered incredulously, run up all five flights of stairs? It was the only reason he could come up with that she was actually out of breath. She wasn't exactly out of shape, after all.

Xander shrugged, shelving his own wories aside in preference to Buffy's. He only absently noted Willow doing the same. They both shook their heads.

"Did you guys know there was a war going on?" Buffy asked as she dropped onto the chair opposite their couch.

Both of them blinked at her.

"Um, Buff?" Xander ventured. "That's why my . . . um . . . Dad wanted us all here," he ventured softly. "Remember?"

Buffy blinked, as if in shock. "Oh! Um, right." She grinned then, a little sheepishly, giving a faint shrug. "Sorry, forgot."

Willow interrupted, getting to the heart of the moment. "Why do you ask?"

Buffy frowned, shaking her head. It was obvious that she was beyond confused, but she carefully explained Pansy Parkinson's reaction to her news about what was 'wrong' with the two girls.

Xander knew, though. He knew exactly why Pansy didn't want her family to know and was just as glad that neither Buffy nor Willow could. His own worries and fears suddenly insignificant, he stood. "Willow, go to my father. He'll know where to go to get in touch with Giles."

Willow nodded, already headed for the door.

"You know where to go?"

She faltered even as she reached for the door handle. "Um?" she replied, turning and shrugging sheepishly. "No?"

Xander laughed, shaking his head, before quickly telling his best friend where, exactly, to find his father's apartment.

She nodded and darted out of the room.

"And me?" Buffy asked, smirking at him.

"Take me to Pansy?" he asked, reserving his sigh to purely mental. So much for a real bath before dinner.

Buffy frowned, her expression asking why, even before her words could.

Xander beat her to the verbal. "Buff?" he asked. "Which of us knows more about a bad homelife?" It was the first time he had ever referred, even indirectly, to his own homelife, but it was almost instantly apparent that it wasn't exactly a secret -- not that he'd truly thought it was. They'd been over too many times during his parents loud fights.

Buffy didn't respond out loud. She simply nodded, her expression clearing, and headed for the door.

Xander, a mocking, reality filled, smirk quirking up half of his mouth, followed silently behind. He knew very well that he didn't have to say anything else; though, he did listen as Buffy relayed to him what she'd already told the newly discovered slayer.

"I never thought I'd be thankful that the council used to kidnap its potentials," Buffy admitted with a shake of her head.

Xander nodded his agreement. It really did seem a strange thing to be thankful for, but he was, also.

"Where's Dawn?"

"She wanted to check out the school's infirmary."

x-x-x

Willow shook her head as she headed to the owlery. She didn't quite know how to take Xander's new father. The man obviously had a chip on his shoulder the size of Colorado's boulders. The problem was, she didn't know what had caused it, nor what to do about it -- if anything. She already knew the man had started out on the 'wrong' side of this war, but she didn't know what had driven him to the 'light' side, nor even what had made him choose the other in the first place. She only hoped it didn't drive an insurmountable wedge between him and Xander. That was all Xander needed.

She wasn't quite as oblivious as Xander thought she was about his homelife. She hadn't been more obvious about it -- throughout the years -- only because her best friend had always given off the 'I really don't want to talk about it vibes'. She'd let him clown his way out of any discussion that even bordered on it. Now, though, she wondered if maybe that had been the wrong decision. She couldn't help but wonder if that was at the base of his feeling like he didn't belong. He thought no one cared enough to notice, or if they did notice, didn't care enough to do anything about it. She sighed, feeling her helplessness pressing in on her again. She could fight the badness that was -- or rather used to be -- Sunnydale, fight the things that went bump in the night, but she couldn't seem to do anything to help her best friend -- beyond being there for him -- and apparently, she hadn't done a very good job of even that.

She was all too aware of the fact that she hadn't been there for him as much as she could have been, that she had let him down more than once in that department. She snorted as she climbed more stairs. In her effort to protect her friend she had hurt him almost as much as his parents had. Cringing, she heard his fears again, knowing they were at least partially her fault.

"What if I still don't fit in here, Wills?"

His voice had been small, his posture all but defeated.

"Damn it!" she muttered to herself in a moment of rare cursing. How could she have been so caught up in herself not to realize that they had always pushed Xander to the side like that? She hadn't really meant to, she'd only wanted to keep him safe. She hadn't realized, until now, just what kind of affect it had, had on her friend. She'd only known she could not have handled it if something had happened to him, too -- not after Jesse. Nodding firmly as she reached the the tower that held the owls, her resolve set. She wouldn't do it any more. It was as simple as that. Xander was too important to her. She really shouldn't have done it in the first place. It was selfish. Plans inside plans forming, she coaxed one of the school owls to her and gave it the letter she had written to Giles.

"I don't know how this works," she admitted to the tawny bird, feeling a bit silly for actually talking to it like it could understand her, "but please take this to Rupert Giles," she asked. "By the time you get there, he should be in Cleveland." Frowning uncertainly, she cocked her head. "Do you even know what I'm saying?" she asked.

Astonishingly, the bird nodded.

"Huh?" she replied in surprise. "Okay then. I'm gonna trust you then. This letter is really important."

The owl hooted at her, sounding like it had truly understood her and took off, flying through one of the glassless windows that surrounded the owlery.

She stood there for several long moments, watching the bird grow smaller and smaller in the sky, before turning and heading back down the stairs. Even so, she wished they could easily get to a telephone and just call. It would be so much quicker. She didn't know how the other owl had made it to them so quickly, but suspected magic and didn't think this owl would be as quick.

x-x-x

Xander paced restlessly as he waited for his father to arrive. He was beyond edgy at the moment, but to make a change from the rest of this nonending day, it wasn't himself he was worried about. It was Pansy. Willow had told him she'd sent an owl, but he didn't think that would be quick enough. He recognized too much of himself in the new slayer. While it was obvious she'd gone to the opposite extreme that he had, he still recognized her. He saw her, knew her. He didn't want her to go home, not even for a little while. Sometimes, a little while was all it took.

Back home, it might not be quite so bad, but here, they had books about slayers, and while they may not know who any specific slayer was, they knew about them in general. One little slip was all it would take and her family would know. Unfortunately, he got the very real impression that her family would be less than pleased, as in as displeased as Tony Harris would have been if he'd thought for even a single moment his son might not be a 'manly man'. Xander shuddered.

Maybe he should head out early and see if his father was actually in his apartment. He got no farther than the door. But what if he's already on his way here and I miss him? Frowning, Xander spun away from the door and paced back across the room. He didn't even have anyone to talk to about this at the moment. Buffy was with the two new slayers. Willow and Dawn were off somewhere -- who knew where. Well, he was sure they'd said where they were going, but at the moment he couldn't remember where that somewhere was.

With that he was back to thinking maybe he should go looking, but before he could actually decide, a knock on the door startled him.

He raced to the door and jerked it open, managing to startle his father -- something he was pretty sure didn't happen very often. The man was a spy! He went undercover to spy on a wizard that could kill him with just one spell! Something told Xander the man didn't startle easily.

The man was smirking at him now, though, making Xander frown a bit. "Hungry, are we?" he asked drily.

Xander shook his head; though, his mouth curled up into a grin despite his best efforts. "How close is the nearest phone?" he asked instead of replying.

That eyebrow shot up in the man's only display of surprise. "Surely, you can be out of touch for more than 12 hours, Xander."

Xander waved aside the irritated question. "We need to get hold of Giles."

"Why?" his father demanded, frowning.

Pushing aside what he felt about obviously having angered the man, Xander quickly explained what was going on, what their concerns were, and how they were going to help Pansy -- assuming it could still be done, what with the old council gone and all. He just hoped that this father would listen. The old one sure wouldn't have. Hell, the old one wouldn't have even believed him.

He was shocked nearly senseless when the professor grabbed his arm and virtually dragged him from the suite. All he could think was that his new father was going to beat him black and blue, for making demands. He was no different from Tony Harris! Unfortunately, Xander's mind was a mess and he couldn't force himself to do anything about it. In his surprise, disappointment, anger, and hurt, he forgot about being an adult. He forgot that he no longer had to take it from anyone ever again. All he could think was that he was still a loser and couldn't seem to do anything right. He'd lost an eye after all -- no one else who'd lived had any permanent injuries.

Even when things had been going right, he'd messed up badly and ended up hurting the woman he loved. He'd hurt her so badly that she'd gone back to being a vegeance demon! Then . . . then after she'd moved on and decided being human was better after all, he hadn't been able to protect her. She'd died on his watch! She'd died while he'd survived.

Maybe he deserved it after all. They say Karma's a bitch. Maybe he'd just built up so much bad karma that this was the only way to even things out.

"Xander!"

Xander startled, jerked out of the vicious circle of his thoughts. "What?"

The professor sneered. "Did you even hear what I asked?"

Cringing, Xander shook his head. "No, sorry. I was--" He tried to think of something to say besides the fact that he was panicking but, unfortunately, couldn't think of a damn thing. He slumped. He'd really screwed up this time.

To his surprise, however, the professor stopped and released his arm with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Alexander."

Xander blinked. "What?"

"Xander!"

Jumping, Xander turned toward the call. "Yeah, Buff?"

"Headmaster Dude said they couldn't keep Pansy here any longer. Her parents have already asked for her to be sent home."

"Can't he come up with anything?" Xander asked.

Buffy shook her head. "He already delayed as long as he could just so we could meet her."

"The word of the head of the family is absolute in the wizarding world, Xander," the professor announced.

"So," Xander replied with a shrug. "We hide her."

"There's nothing we can do," the professor replied, shaking his head. "Even if we hide her now, they can demand she come home once school starts -- unless of course you intend to deprive her of her education."

"Well, then," Xander said firmly, stalking toward the room he'd met Pansy and Hermione in, "we take her with us when we make the phone call."

He could feel himself cringe even as he did it, certain this would only piss off his father even more; though, he was grateful to be back to Xander instead of the dreaded Alexander. He was willing to pay the price for it later, but Pansy needed their help now.

"And what then, Xander?" the professor asked pointedly.

Xander didn't look to see if the man was frowning. Since he'd met the man, the professor had spent most of that time frowning, so it was kind of a given. That didn't mean he wanted to see it directed at him. "We hope Giles tells us what we need to hear."

"Gryffindors!" the professor muttered, just loudly enough that Xander could still here. He didn't know why his father had called him that, but judging by the tone it didn't bode well. He also heard Buffy's confused, "huh?" but ignored that as well. He was glad, however, that from the sounds of it, the two of them were following him. He didn't have a hope in hell of finding a phone by himself. He barely knew what country he was in, let alone the direction to the nearest town. He also truly hoped his father was actually willing to take them to one. As far as he knew, the man just might agree with that head of the family garbage and refuse to help them.

xxxxxxxxxx
Chapter Seven
xxxxxxxxxx

Xander shifted restlessly as Buffy made the call to Giles. They had portkeyed to Diagon Ally -- weird name for a street if he was asked! -- and walked through a brick wall into a place called the Leaky Cauldron. From there, they'd walked out into what his father called 'muggle London'. Wasn't London, London?

Both Pansy and his father seemed a little . . . antsy as well; though, neither of them showed it as much as he did. That was a little . . . offputting, truth be told, and Xander was a little resentful. Why should he be the only one who seemed nervous about this whole thing? Of course, his father seemed more impatient than anything else, but that wasn't exactly news. He hadn't met many more uptight people in his life. Impatience seemed to be ingrained in the man's personality -- bone deep.

He was discovering something about the man throughout this ordeal, however. However bitter and sarcastic the man may be, he still cared about the kids he taught -- at least as far as Xander could see. He certainly seemed to care about what happened to Pansy -- in a distant, let's get this done and out of the way kind of way. In fact, it was beginning to dawn on him that, while in the strictest sense of the word, the professor was new to being a father, he wasn't new to being a father figure. His students were his children. Kinda like Giles. Xander just hoped he could compete with that, because he hadn't done so well with that with Giles.

Xander was even beginning to suspect he just might have misinterpreted the professor's actions when the man had dragged him out into the hall. Had that been merely his very abrupt way of saying 'do something'? Xander didn't know. He did hope so, though.

Pansy, on the other hand, was confusing the hell out of him. In many ways he understood her very well. She had as many defense mechanisms as he did; though, hers seemed to go to the opposite extreme to his. While she wasn't nearly as relaxed as she could be, she didn't appear nearly as upset as he imagined he would be in her situation. Afraid her family would actually kill her if they found out that she was a slayer -- an idea that Xander could not even begin to understand, or imagine for that matter -- and waiting to discover if there was a way to be kidnapped into relative safety; Xander would have been beside himself with worry -- read fear.

In contrast, Pansy seemed nearly calm, a little subdued maybe, but definitely calm.

He frowned, something telling him that what he saw wasn't all there was to see. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, pulling her attention away from Buffy and the phone booth for the first time since their arrival.

It was then he saw it, the barely suppressed panic. It showed only in her eyes, and then only for a split second before it disappeared completely. He had to wonder just what sort of homelife she had that led to that kind of emotional control. It seemed to him that she was actually afraid to show just how scared she really was.

"Who's Giles?" she asked, her voice betraying absolutely nothing of what he'd seen so briefly in her eyes.

"Buffy's watcher."

Pansy frowned, casting a quick glance back toward Buffy. "That sounds like a glorified name for a babysitter to me," she said scoffing. "Isn't she an adult? Why does she need a babysitter?"

Xander laughed. He couldn't help himself, because God help him, it really could be construed that way -- not that he was going to say so to either Buffy or Giles! He liked living, thank you very much. He also liked having all his bits and pieces right where they were and he liked them unbruised! He only half noticed the professor's snort of amusement as he was busy wrestling his own laughter under control so he could answer the girl.

"I suppose," he replied carefully, his mouth twitching, "in a way, he kinda is." He shook his head before he continued, noting as he did so that he appeared to have more than just Pansy's attention. He also seemed to have his father's -- if the intense focus the man was directing his way was anything to judge by.

"From the very beginning, a knowledgeable 'watcher' was paired with each slayer, to teach and guide them, and to record their history, their lives, and their deaths."

Xander let himself fall into 'story telling' mode as his confidence grew right along side the continued interest of his two listeners, and for the first time ever, Xander began to feel like he might actually be smart, might actually know something worth knowing. Not only did he know something these two people wished to learn, they were actually looking to him to teach it to them. It was a very heady experience.

"So, a watcher is more a mentor and trainer rather than a 'babysitter'?" the professor clarified as Xander's words trailed off.

Xander grinned and nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. We wouldn't have stopped near the number of apocalypses we did, if Giles didn't have his knowledge of prophesy and demonology."

"Apocalypses -- plural?" Pansy asked, frowning again. "Isn't apocalyspe the end of the world, singular?"

Xander chuckled, remembering the scoobies own revelation about that. "One of the most important things I learned after becoming involved with the slayer was that most people live their entire lives without knowing just how often the world as we know it nearly ends." He paused a moment thinking over the highlights of what had happened since he'd met Buffy. "Just off the top of my head, I can think of five times our nice orderly world nearly ended in the last seven years."

Both listeners' eyes widened at that, and Pansy gasped, but he was interrupted before he could expand on what he'd told them.

"Xander."

"Yeah, Buff?"

"Giles says he needs to talk with you."

Frowning, Xander quickly stepped to the booth. "What's up, G-man?" he asked the moment he had the phone to his ear."

What will it take to get you to stop calling me that?" Giles asked plaintively.

Xander grinned, then, shrugging. "Ummm, the world ending?"

Two gasps sounded behind him and he cringed. "Sorry," he called out over his shoulder. "Joke."

He received two death glares for his trouble. He shrugged sheepishly and quickly returned his attention back to the phone conversation he was supposed to be having.

"That was not funny, Xander," Giles admonished him.

"Yeah, the people here didn't think it was, either," Xander agreed. "What did you need to talk to me about anyway?"

"First things first," Giles said, "things work a bit differently in the wizarding world than they do in the one you're used to."

Tell me something I haven't already figured out, G-man, Xander thought, but managed not to say, for once waiting until the man got to the important part. And he was sure there was an important part, otherwise, why would the G-man be stating the obvious?

"Centuries ago, the council and the wizarding government created a compact, wherein a slayer can be removed from her family's care into that of the watchers. They could not, however, take mere potentials like they do in the muggle world. It's the only government that the council bothered to do so with."

"Great!"

"But--"

Xander slumped. "Why is there always a 'but' when there's any good news," he asked; though, he didn't really expect an answer, "and almost never when there's bad news?"

Surprisingly, Giles laughed. "She needs to be assigned a specific watcher able to take guardianship."

"But she's already an adult in this world, G-man."

"Even as an adult, she is still subject to her family's law, and she will remain so until she's married."

"What?!" Xander exclaimed. "Are they stuck in the dark ages, or something?" he asked, outraged on Pansy's behalf. He could only begin to imagine what Anya's reaction to it would have been. He almost snorted. If nothing else, it would definitely have been spectacular!

"No," Giles denied, "just around the Victorian era."

Xander rolled his eyes and got quickly back to the important point -- at least as far as he was concerned. "I can't say for certain until I ask him, but I'm pretty sure that the professor would be willing--"

"An experienced watcher that has been associated with the council for at least two years."

"Well, damn, G-man, how's that gonna help, then? Can you get here quickly enough?"

"I don't need to Xander, unless you're saying you refuse to be her watcher."

Xander blinked, mind blanking out for several seconds. "Um, say what?" he asked. He couldn't have heard the man right.

Giles laughed for a second time, but Xander wasn't able to appreciate it quite as much this time around.

"Xander, currently, I am the council," Giles reminded him patiently, "and you have been associated with me and slayers for well over two years."

"But, I'm not qualified!" he protested automatically. He didn't know near enough. Watchers had studied years to know what they knew.

And what about Wesley?

"The only person left more qualified, who isn't also a slayer, is me, Xander, and I already have a slayer."

Xander didn't have a response to that; not a single one.

"Buffy is there to train her in combat, even if you didn't already know the beginning training for slayers."

Point. "But what about all that book stuff? I don't know near enough about that."

"You can learn."

Eep!

"There isn't anyone else, Xander, not that would be acceptable to the terms of the compact; a compact that the wizarding government will honor.

Taking a deep breath, Xander shook his head. He couldn't believe that he was the best, only, choice! "Alright, G-man. I'll do it."

"Excellent!" Giles exclaimed. "You're a good man, Xander. You'll do fine."

Xander wasn't so sure, but didn't contradict the man. It wasn't like there was anyone else.

"Are you at Hogwarts?"

"Well, not right this second," he replied. "Phones don't work there, but yeah, that's where we're staying."

"Good. Expect a floo call later tonight. I'll need a specific adress, though."

"Just a second." Flu?

Placing a hand over the mouth piece, Xander turned. "Professor?"

"What?"

"What address would Giles use to flu me?" he asked, not entirely certain what, exactly, that was, but not wanting to show it.

"Hogwarts, headmaster's office."

Xander nodded, then quickly relayed the information.

"Good. I'll be in touch at 9pm with the specific information and documentation you'll need to assume guardianship of-- What's the young lady's name?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

"--of one Pansy Parkinson. For now, if the parents are insisting on her immediate return, find a way to hide her until you can get to the Ministry of Magic tomorrow morning. After that, everything will be completely legal."

"Sounds good. Um, 9pm my time or your time?"

"Your time, Xander."

"Okay, um, you realize it's already like six here, right?"

"Yes, Xander, I do."

"You can get documentation that quickly?"

"No, I can't, but I can make it."

"Oh! Gotcha. I gotta go . . . unless there's something else?"

"No. That's fine. Good bye, Xander."

"Later, Giles."

Xander quickly hung up to the sounds of Giles' choking response. It felt good to surprise the watcher. Of course, he had told the man what it would take to get him to stop calling him G-man, and well, Xander Harris being a watcher? Well, that just sounded so very apocalypty to him -- no two ways about it.

Taking a deep breath, Xander stared at the phone for several seconds, needing the time to sort things out in his mind. He was a watcher now, not just a goofy sidekick.

God! I hope I do better than Wesley!

He turned slowly, only to find he was being stared at by three expectant, and very impatient, people. It was disconcerting, and not a little intimidating -- if he was going to be completely honest.

"It's a go," he said first thing, knowing that was what they most wanted to hear. He was just glad he could say it.

His father nodded once, firmly, acknowledging his statement.

Buffy grinned.

But their reactions weren't the ones he was really paying attention to. His main concern was Pansy.

She smiled, barely, the corners of her mouth turning up just the slightest bit. It was the only indication of her pleasure at the news and if he hadn't been specifically looking for it, he might have missed it. It was the release of previously unseen tension in her shoulders, however, that truly told the story of the depth of her relief.

At this point, Xander could see he was going to have to pay very close attention to his slayer -- his slayer -- if he wanted to know how she was feeling at any given time. Judging by her reactions so far, she wasn't going to be one to wear her heart on her sleeve, as the saying went, and it was going to take time for him to learn how to interpret her subtle signals. It was going to be confusing, is what it was going to be. He just knew it. Girls were confusing at the best of times, and something told him this wasn't 'the best of times'.

"There is a slight catch," he told them. Still directing his words toward Pansy, he quickly explained what he knew -- very little so far -- about the compact and the need for a guardian.

"I'm sure Albus would--"

Xander shook his head, interrupting his father's offer; though, he was more than a little surprised that the man hadn't offered on his own behalf. He seemed to really care about Pansy. "No can do, Professor. It has to be a bonefide watcher, one associated with the council for at least two years."

"Then how is it 'a go'?" the professor snapped, sneering at him.

"Is Giles coming, then?" Buffy asked.

Xander shook his head at Buffy first, disappointed in both their reactions, before turning to his father. "Because, apparently, I qualify as a watcher. He's drawing up the paperwork now and will flu it to me tonight, along with the 411 we need to do it at all."

Buffy's, "Flu?" came right on top of Pansy's, "411?"

"Information, Pansy," Xander replied quickly, hoping someone else would answer Buffy's question, because he'd kind of like to know the answer to it, too. Thankfully, his father did, which caused both him and Buffy to stare at him like he was insane.

"He's gonna stick his head in a fire?" Buffy yelped, even as Xander was distracted by the change in his father's expression. He was glad to see the unspoken apology in the man's eyes, because he suspected -- given the man's personality to date -- that verbal apologies were few and far between.

He just wished -- and no, he was not going to say that out loud; the phrase 'I wish' was permanently struck from his vocabulary -- that just once, someone would hear him out before they jumped to conclusions and decided he had to be talking out his ass. Shaking his head, and the lingering sting of hurt, he turned away from his father and refocused on his slayer.

And wow! Is that a freaky concept or what? Xander couldn't help but silently exclaim, it just now truly hitting him what it meant. He would be responsible for her well being, her safety.

Despite the temptation to wig, big time, he knew Pansy had to be his focus for now; he could worry about his own problems later, when everything was settled.

Uh oh!

Pansy was smirking at him, and it reminded him so very strongly of Cordelia Chase that he was tempted to run the other way and never look back.

He cocked an eyebrow at her -- or tried to -- attempting a nonchallance, an 'easy cool', that he didn't really feel. He was pretty sure he'd failed, because she just laughed.

"So," she drawled, "you're going to be my watcher, then?" she stated as much as asked.

"Yeah, good ol' Xan-man to the rescue," he quipped, once again taking refuge in humor. He did hope she was okay with it, though. There weren't a whole lot of choices at the moment.

Pansy's eyes widened and she blinked at him blankly a couple of times before turning a horrified look to the Professor. "He's a Gryffindor isn't he?"

The professor smirked at her and nodded. "He does seem that way."

"I'm doomed!" she exclaimed, and Xander wasn't sure how much was truth and how much was show.

"Hey!" he exclaimed automatically, half outraged, but couldn't help chuckling, because Buffy burst into full out laughter. What was it with these people and gryffindor, anyway? He wasn't whatever a gryffindor was, he was all human!

"Why's Xander a gryffindor?" Buffy asked once she got her laughter down to mere snickers. "What's a gryffindor?"

Despite all appearances to the contrary, it was, apparently, his lucky day. Giles thought he was good enough to be a watcher. Buffy kept asking the questions he wanted answers to, and he got to keep his ignorance to himself. For a change of pace, it was real nice not to look like an idiot as well as feel like one.

They walked as the professor explained, hurrying back to the Leaky Cauldron.

As he listened, Xander frowned. What was wrong with being brave? Why did his father say it with such derision. The man had to be brave to spy on someone powerful like he did.

"So you're a Gryffindor, then?" Xander asked, watching the man's reaction closely.

Horror flitted across the man's face before being buried under a mask of neutrality. "No," he replied shortly. "I am Slytherin, head of Slytherin house, actually."

Xander nodded. That made sense too. "They're the what? The cunning and ambitions ones?" he asked.

When both his father and Pansy nodded, he continued.

"So they're the smart people who want to get things done?"

When he received two very slack jawed stares, he frowned. "What?" he asked "What did I say?"

xxxxxxxxxx
Chapter Eight
xxxxxxxxxx

Severus had never been comfortable in the muggle world, not even when he'd been a child and spent his summers there. So, he sighed in relief the moment they stepped through into Diagon Alley, still reeling from his son's unique description of Slytherins. It was certainly a minority opinion outside of Slytherin house, itself. His relief, however, didn't last long.

"Hey! Can we check this place out before we go back?" Summers asked as soon as the wall closed behind them.

"No," he replied shortly.

The brat looked taken aback for all of a second, then she frowned. "Why not?" she demanded. "We don't have to be back before nine, so what's the big?"

"The big, as you so quaintly put it," he sneered at the bloody chit, "is that we have several people waiting for our return. And unlike you, I would like to have a modicum of dinner some time before going to bed tonight."

For some reason beyond his reasoning, his dry recitation of reasons served to perk up the blonde.

"We could eat dinner here," she chirped. "It's a shopping district, right? There's bound to be places to eat."

He almost growled at that, and counted himself as heroic for having held back. These were supposed adults! So, why did he feel like he was chaparoning a group of rebellious 6th years? Before he could respond, however, Xander did so.

"Buffy, could we do this later, sometime?" he asked plaintively. "It's been a really long day, and I'd like to just eat something and then collapse into bed." He frowned. "After we hear from Giles, of course."

"Fine," Summers replied sullenly, sighing and dropping her arms to her sides.

"Besides," his son continued with a crooked grin -- that rather horrifically reminded him of Harry Potter. "Dawn would kill you, if she knew you left her behind the first time you went shopping here."

The brat's eyes widened. "Oh! I didn't think of that."

Of course, she hadn't, Severus thought sourly. He sincerely doubted she very often gave thought to others before herself. Sneering again, he thrust out the broken teacup Albus had spelled into their portkey.

x-x-x

The portkey deposited them in the middle of the entrance hall, and he immediately headed straight toward the headmaster's office. He wanted to report and then eat, so he could relax until Rupert floo called at nine. He froze, however, before rounding the last corner before the entrance to Albus' office. He recognized those voices.

"I insist that you bring my daughter here immediately, Dumbledore," Patrick Parkinson demanded angrily.

He spun back around and grabbed hold of Parkinson and pulled her in the opposite direction, silently indicating everyone should remain quiet. He got three firm nods in response.

"I assure you, Mr. Parkinson that, although she did stop by, Pansy is not at Hogwarts at this time. She left of her own accord about an hour and a half ago."

Striding to the great hall, he made a beeline for the staff exit on the far side of the room. It was the quickest way down to his chambers from here -- and the least likely to lend itself to running into anyone who just might be around. He did not want to be seen by anyone. No one said a word until after the door to his chambers shut behind them all.

"What are we going to do now?" Pansy asked, looking a little panicked; not that he could blame her in the slightest. Patrick was not a man to anger lightly. He was nearly as ruthless as Lucius Malfoy.

"We hide you," Summers and Xander said together, firmly, as if that's all there was to it.

Definitely Gryffindors. He noted Pansy snorted at that just as quickly as he had.

Summers shrugged in response. "Hey, if I can hide a key from a god for six months, I can hide you from your parents for one night."

Severus blinked at that, his automatic response being to completely diregard the chit's words as complete and utter hubris. Unfortunately, Xander nodded in response to those same words, and he'd grown to -- something he was having trouble believing -- trust the young man. That made it difficult to simply dismiss the arrogant claim.

Parkinson, on the other hand, was not so limited in her response. "A god," she sneered openly. "Right."

Again, the chit merely shrugged; though, this time, her eyes narrowed in a brief flare of anger. "Yes a god. An earth bound god, but a god."

"A hell-god, specifically," Xander added. "Thankfully, she didn't have access to her absolute full powers and was bound to sharing a body with a human host, but she really was a god, with enough power that she damn near destroyed the world."

Severus rolled his eyes at that. "And who would have the power to bind a god like that?" he sneered. Surely they were mistaken.

The two shared a brief look and once again answered as if they were twins. "Other gods."

Severus wilted. He supposed it was possible -- remotely. He just wondered if he could break his son of the habit of seemingly attracting as much trouble as Harry Bloody Potter! Potter was bad enough, but his own son seemed to live in a world of the fantastical made reality.

"Really?" Pansy asked skeptically; though, it looked like she wanted to believe.

Summers nodded. "Really," she replied. "You're just going to have to trust us a little."

Pansy's eyes narrowed as Severus watched quietly, wanting to see where this was headed. Gryffindors trusted far too easily. "Trust isn't easily come by," she offered quietly.

Xander nodded. "You're right. Trust has to be earned, but for now, until that comes, perhaps you can try to believe that, at a minimum, we won't stop. We won't give up on you. We'll protect you with everything we have."

Pansy's eyes widened and Severus could feel his own doing the same; though, he tried to limit his outward reaction. Those had been powerful words. He would have given a limb to have heard them when he was Pansy's age, by someone who meant them.

"Now that I can believe," Pansy retorted, smirking, her posture far more relaxed, "you are Gryffindors, after all. Once you take on a cause you're quite bull-headed about it."

"Hey!" Summers protested, but was smiling, her eyes -- more than anything -- reflecting her amused outrage.

Xander, however, laughed fully. "Well, that certainly describes me," he replied easily.

He was doomed, Severus groaned mentally, unintentially echoing Parkinson's earlier outburst. He would never live down having spawned such a blatant Gryffindor. Never! What he didn't understand was how; an abusive homelife tended to produce either Slytherins, or the more reclusive of the Ravenclaws, but his son -- to all signs -- had come from such a home and still ended up as a bloody idealistic Griff! It defied all logic.

"Is there anyplace inside the castle that they won't look for her?" Summers asked.

"Or can't get into if they do?" Xander added.

"No," Severus replied. "It would take a long time to search a castle this size, even with magic, but any place that can be password protected, has an override password the headmaster can always use. Everyone who has ever gone here knows that, so the headmaster would have no reason to deny them access to locked areas -- barring personal quarters."

"Then why doesn't she stay right here?"

"Because, Miss Summers," Severus replied tightly, "I do not dare refuse them entrance, not for this."

Summers' eyes widened abruptly, in apparent comprehension, but thankfully, she didn't share her epiphany with anyone. Parkinson may be afraid of her parents, and she may want training, but that was not enough for Severus to trust that she wouldn't go running to the dark lord with news of his being a traitor to 'the cause'.

"I will protect my students to the best of my ability," he said lowly, "I always have. What I will not do," he added, choosing his words carefully, "is get myself killed without extreme cause. I am not a Gryffindor to blindly sacrifice myself."

"And rightly so, Professor," Parkinson said softly.

Severus wasn't sure if the girl had picked up on the subcurrent or not. He just hoped that if she had done so, she thought he'd meant he'd protect her from vengeful parents but wouldn't be seen as possibly trying to protect her from the dark lord. While that was true, it wouldn't be for the reasons she assumed.

"What?" Xander asked suddenly, turning to look around the room.

"What's wrong?"

Xander looked at him oddly, frowning. "Did you hear that?"

"No one said anything, Xander," Summers told him, laying a hand on his arm.

"What did you hear?" Severus asked.

"Someone asking about what my requirements were."

Severus gasped. "The room of requirement!" he exclaimed softly.

"The room of what?" Xander asked.

Severus shook his head impatiently. "Follow me," he said, "and for Merlin's sake, keep quiet!"

Surprising him greatly, all three kept silent the entire circuitous route they'd taken to reach the seventh floor. He didn't think the newcomers, his son included, had been quiet for that long of a stretch -- barring sleep -- since he'd met them. Of course, he did have to admit, that had only been 24 hours ago. He sighed, in many ways it seemed far longer. So much had happened since then, not the least of which was discovering he had a son.

He shook himself from his thoughts as the reached the stretch of hall that housed the usually invisible entrance to the room of requirement.

"Wait here," he said sharply, continuing forward. "Don't move."

"Bossy," he heard the slayer mutter under her breath.

He clenched his jaw tightly and refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he concentrated on what he required -- a safe haven for Pansy Parkinson to spend the night.

x-x-x

Pansy liked what the room had come up with for her. It wasn't luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it was comfortable and cozy. The color scheme nice and soothing light wood tones. It was a good thing she'd learned how the room worked before this, or she might actually suspect the professor had a soft side. She almost giggled, picturing the professor's nearly horrified expression should she be stupid enough to voice such a thought.

Shaking her head she let her gaze travel around the suite once again, letting the . . . normalcy of it quiet her worries a little. She might not actively trust the two newcomers, but Xander's words'd had a powerful affect, and she couldn't help but hold a little bit of hope for her future. She'd heard about the room of requirement from Draco, back when Umbridge had run the school, but she'd never been here before. According to the professor, only those who'd opened the room could get in, since that's what he'd asked for. Apparently, not even the headmaster could, unless he was with one of them. That did make her feel a bit better, like she might actually survive this awful situation. She still wasn't a hundred percent certain that Xander could do the things he'd said he'd do. Who, in their right mind, would assign guardianship of a 17 year old to someone who couldn't be over 25? It just didn't make any sense to her.

She sighed lightly, laying back against her pillows. What she really couldn't believe was that she was actually trusting -- sort of -- a Gryffindor type person. Even if the man hadn't been sorted, it was a plain as the nose on her face what the man was. There was something about him, though, that invited trust, and it niggled at the back of her mind as she tried to figure it out. It was as if, maybe, his Griff tendencies were a bit tempered by something else. He certainly seemed to have an insight into Slytherin thought that most Griffs didn't have -- even when they got older.

Maybe, whatever had injured his eye had made him stop and think -- at least a little bit. Of course, she freely admitted that the proffesor's seeming trust in the man didn't hurt his case any. As far as Pansy had seen, the professor did not trust many people. He'd certainly sneered far less at the man than any she'd seen before, barring the headmaster. She snorted. Of course, that man was his boss. Sneering at your boss tended to get a person fired, so that didn't really mean much of anything.

She frowned. Not that she'd truly seen the professor around many non-students. Mainly just the other professors, and he didn't seem to like many of them. In fact, he treated most of them as badly as he did the Griffs -- there was a story there, she was sure. Not that she was going to ask what that story might be. She had no interest in spending the remainder of her schooling on the professor's hit list. Even Crabbe and Goyle could see it was far more fun watching someone else be on it.

Sighing again, she shook her head. There was no way she was going to figure this out now. She was simply too tired and strung out. All she knew for sure was that she really wished she didn't have to deal with any of this in the first place. The bloody Gryffindors were the ones that were supposed to have Destinies, not cool, calculating Slytherins.

"You okay?" Dawn asked quietly, startling Pansy. Frankly, she'd forgotten the other girl was there at all -- not something she was used to doing.

Turning to face the dark haired enigma and weighing her answer, she carefully assessed the girl. She was another thing Pansy couldn't figure out. Some of the things the girl said sounded straight from the mouth of a Griff or a Puff, but the chit definitely had comebacks worthy of a Slytherin.

"Not really," she admitted, figuring, if nothing else, the girl was smart enough to realize any other answer would be a bald-faced lie, "but I will be," she continued, hedging her response.

"Yeah, I bet this has kinda turned your world upside down."

Pansy chuckled wryly. "You could say that," she agreed.

"I know you probably won't believe this yet," Dawn said softly, "but you've just gained a family that'll stick by you pretty much no matter what."

Pansy snorted. "Pretty much?" she asked, despite her scepticism.

"Well, you might have problems if you, like, go on a mass murdering spree or something."

Pansy laughed then, really laughed. She had to admit, she liked the girl, no rose-colored, soft-coated tales of happily-ever-after with her. Of course, she still painted a pretty optimistic future, despite that.

"So, what's the catch?" she asked, knowing there had to be one.

Dawn shrugged. "It's a dangerous life."

Pansy rolled her eyes. She'd already figured that much out. A witch didn't go about hunting and trying to kill demons and the like, without getting into danger and making powerful enemies. She waited for more, sure there was more.

"Until the activation of all the current potentials, the life expectancy of a slayer was a couple years, at best," Dawn admitted. "Now, though?" She shrugged. "Who knows. We have a better support structure, and 'the slayer' isn't alone anymore. That's gonna make a difference. Can't know how much yet, though."

Pansy nodded. That all made sense, too. Still, she just wasn't sure.

This was all simply too far from how she expected her life to go. She had been pledged to marry Draco since they were both still in diapers. Would he still be willing now that she was a freak? Would his parents let him, even if he did?

She sighed and closed her eyes. While they were all things she needed to consider, she wasn't going to be able to figure it out tonight. She was simply too tired. "Good night," she called out softly.

"Good night."

x-x-x

Hermione paced across the length of the room she'd been given and back again. She'd been there since Dawn had walked there with her after dinner. And that was another thing that had her worried. Neither Buffy, nor Parkinson had been in attendence, something that had surprised her. She just hoped, oddly enough, that the Slytherin's parents hadn't managed to get a hold of her. Unfortunately, it was the only reason she could think of for both of them to miss dinner.

Shaking her head, she frowned, her lips pressing together tightly. She just had to think about the whole thing logically; that's all there was to it. If she did, then she could get a handle on it. It wasn't as if this was the first time something weird had happened to her, after all.

She grinned suddenly, freezing in place. It was just like when she'd found out she was a witch. Unfortunately, the good feeling didn't last. The problem with this time, the difference, was her new abilities came with a destiny, a dangerous destiny at that. She may agree with the idea of 'fighting the good fight', and all that went with that -- she was a Gryffindor for a reason, no matter what anyone might say -- but she also did not like the thought of not having a choice in the matter.

It wasn't like she'd chosen to be some mystical slayer.

And you chose to be a witch?

"That's different," she exclaimed aloud, the moment the thought crossed her mind. "I was born a witch; I just didn't know about it," she muttered sullenly. "This slayer thing was forced on me by some . . . some . . . being somewhere."

Hermione frowned again, renewing her pacing. She wasn't entirely certain whether she truly believed what she was saying, or whether she was trying to convince herself to believe it.

Sighing, she dropped down onto the nearest chair and really began thinking it through, or trying to, anyway. What was really the big difference in the two situations? Why was she reacting so very differently to them?

When she'd been told she was a witch, everything had seemed to fall into place, and she'd taken to the idea like a duck took to water. She hadn't looked back once, since -- not even with all the danger she now knew came hand in hand with it. She wasn't excited about this, though, and the big question was why?

It dawned on her suddenly, the exact reason. She didn't like the idea of fighting. While she knew it was sometimes necessary -- obviously -- she didn't enjoy it. Fighting, according to both sisters, was a very big part of a slayer's existence. 'Once a slayer, always a slayer' -- again, according to the sisters.

So, she supposed, her main question now was, so what? Did that mean she always had to fight? What about her education? She definitely wanted to continue learning beyond Hogwarts. And what about a career? Did she have to give that all up now? Did she want to? Would someone make her, if she chose not to?

She just didn't know, and unfortunaely, the only way to find out would be to ask. She was almost afraid to, though. If her questions made them realize she wasn't wanting this, might not 'toe the line' so to speak, would they try to lock her up? They had said the council had kidnapped slayers before. Again, she just didn't know, and it was driving her barmy, scaring her a little, truth be told.

She growled, then, and leapt to her feet. She was doing herself no good here. Maybe if she got out for a bit, it might help calm her down a little. At least then, she might be able to sleep. That in mind, she strode to the door and out into the castle hall.

Unfortunately, she didn't make it more than twenty feet before she was stopped cold.

"Miss Granger!" Professor Snape snapped.

She sagged immediately, her response an automatic one to the sound of his voice. By the time she turned around, however, a couple of things had dawned on her: A -- she was, legally, an adult and; B -- school was not in session. She wasn't doing anything wrong; though, she very much doubted the professor would see it that way, which made her very glad he couldn't take points or assign detention right now.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" she asked, only then noticing the man standing with him. She briefly wondered who he was before her attention was stolen back by the professor.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his expression as it ever was when directed her way.

She tried to ignore it, but couldn't quite stop feeling like she had been caught out after curfew. I haven't done anything wrong, she told herself firmly, even as she began to speak. "When I couldn't sleep, I decided to take a walk while I sorted out the day's events," she replied poltiely, almost managing airily.

"Can't obey the rules for more than five minutes, can you, Miss Granger?" he asked, sneering now.

Did I call it, or what? she asked herself with a purely mental sigh. "What rule have I broken, Professor," Hermione asked sweetly. "What rule prohibits a legal adult, visiting Hogwarts outside of school session from taking a walk when she finds herself sleepless?"

The professor growled at her, stepping forward menacingly. "Why you arrogant little--"

"Whoa," the man with the professor said suddenly, sounding surprised. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It is a school matter, Xander," the professor replied quietly, though, through clenched teeth. "I will--"

"With all due respect, Professor," Hermione interrupted, wincing even as she did so, "it isn't. I'm not here as a student, but--"

"You're the other new slayer?" Xander asked suddenly, smiling.

Startled she nodded; though, she kept a wary eye on the steaming professor. "How did you know about that?"

"I'm here with the people who're going to teach you how to get a handle on your new strengths and abilities."

Oh!

"Be that as it may," the professor snapped. "You can not simply wander around as you like. There are rules to follow for a reason you silly girl! Students--"

"I'm sorry for interrupting again, Professor," Hermione tried again, "but I'm not here as a student--"

"You are still a student here!"

"Professor?" Xander interjected quietly, reaching out a laying a hand on the professor's arm -- something that surprised the hell out of Hermione. She'd never seen anyone, other than the headmaster, touch the prickly potions professor. It simply wasn't done. Where did these two know each other from.

The professor rounded on the man, who snatched his hand back, but didn't back away.

Hermione was impressed with that. The professor was a very intimidating wizard.

"What?" he snarled.

"I don't really mean to butt in here," he replied, "but she is right. She is here to meet us, not for schooling purposes."

The Professor's sneer, which had miraculously disappeared even as he'd snarled impatiently at the newcomer, reappeared instantly. "You really are a Gryffindor, pushing your nose where it doesn't belong!"

Xander gasped and did cringe back then, looking . . . hurt?

"Fine!" the professor snapped. "You deal with her then! And if she gets hurt, on your head be it!" With that, he whirled away and strode off, disappearing quickly in the direction of the dungeons.

Hermione's mouth fell open. She had never seen the professor back off like that -- except when the headmaster was involved. Who was Xander that he could cause that reaction? When she turned back around, however, the barely supressed tears in the man's eyes shocked her even more. She had really fallen into something here, something she didn't understand.

"Well," Xander quipped, taking a deep, apparently steadying, breath, "that was certainly tense."

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