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Dumbledore's Army
~:|:Chapter 1:|:Chapter 2:|:Chapter 3:|:Chapter 4:|:~
The wind was whipping the trees back and forth in the air, and lightning streaked across the sky in a dazzling display of light. The sky was an angry shade of gray, boiling and seething with clouds, the very atmosphere seemed in direct contrast to the serene nature of the young woman who stood on the cliff's edge, facing the sea many feet below her.
Her arms hanging limply at her sides, her feet braced apart to keep her balanced in the high wind, the young woman's glossy auburn hair danced along the air, masking and uncovering her shining, heart-shaped face. Her twinkling blue eyes were unfocused as she concentrated on something unseen. Her bow-shaped lips parted in an unheard incantation. She didn't notice the first splatters of cool rain on her face, wetting her thin plain black tee-shirt, which was tucked into a worn, yet still serviceable pair of blue jeans. Her small feet were encased in heavy-duty work boots, scuffed and well worn.
Suddenly her concentration broke at the loud 'BANG' that rang out from behind her, making her eyes widen slightly, but she did not falter nor turn to investigate the sound.
"Hello, Rhiannon." Said a soft, gravely voice from behind her.
"Grandfather." Rhiannon said without inflection.
"Why have you called me here?" Asked the voice, saving any small talk.
"I've felt something strong, and it's coming closer to you everyday."
"Voldemort."
"No, it's not a sense of evil, rather the opposite." Rhiannon turned to look at the old man who stood behind her, taking in the long white beard and flowing purple robes, the glowing blue eyes that so resembled her own and the wisdom they held.
"Rhian, can you tell me any more?" Asked Albus Dumbledore of his granddaughter.
Rhian shook her head slowly, "No, unfortunately. And I fear that if I can sense it, so can Voldemort. He may seek to take the power that I sense and use it for his own gain."
"More than likely. Rhian, you could have owled me, or even used up a bit of floo powder, to tell me this news, why did you 'call' me?"
Rhian looked discomfited for the first time, her gaze shifting to the left of her grandfathers' face, before she shook herself sharply and after taking a deep breath looked Dumbledore straight on.
"I think it's time I took you up on your offer of a teaching position."
Dumbledore looked surprised, "Really? I can finally convince you to come to Hogwarts?"
Rhian kept her gaze locked with his, nodding firmly. "I believe so." Dumbledore smiled widely, his twinkling blue eyes glowing brighter than ever before. Taking Rhian's hand in his own blue-veined one, he squeezed it softly.
"Then it would be my pleasure to officially offer the position of DADA professor, to you Rhiannon Quirin."
Rhian looked at her grandfather's smiling face and grinned at him engagingly, the dimples she had inherited from his side of the family coming out in full force. "It is my pleasure to accept, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Impulsively she pulled him into a quick hug, feeling the underlying strength that belied the seemingly fragile exterior. Pulling back she gave him a quick glare.
"Grandfather, I must insist that you not tell anyone, save perhaps Minerva McGonagal, that I am in anyway related to you. It would perhaps be best if our relationship be kept quiet."
Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Of course my dear. But don't expect it to remain a secret forever. You will have a hard road ahead of you, my dear, as the youngest ever professor, and the only one who wasn't taught at Hogwarts."
"I know, however, it's not like I don't know that place like the back of my hand. And you forgot to mention as the daughter of a wand-less witch."
Dumbledore looked slightly pained at her description of herself. "Rhian, your mother wasn't a wand-less witch, she was. . ."
"She was a wand-less witch. Grandfather, I know that you disapprove of the term, but it is accurate. She was a self-taught witch without any inherent magical blood, who could do magic by drawing it from her surroundings rather than from within herself."
Dumbledore sighed loudly. "Yes, however she DID have a wand."
Rhian laughed softly, nodding her head ruefully. "Yes, she had a wand, she just didn't need it to work magic."
Dumbledore said nothing, just smiled at his beloved granddaughter fondly. He couldn't wait to see her teaching DADA at Hogwarts, she was bound to make things interesting.
~:|:Chapter 1:|:Chapter 2:|:Chapter 3:|:Chapter 4:|:~
11:00pm, Sunnydale Memorial Cemetery
"What on earth possessed you to attack a Guntar demon, Spike? They're nearly 15 ft. tall and weigh nearly 2 tons Not to mention the 2-ft poles that shoot out of its arms when it's pissed Besides I had him, I didn't need help." Buffy was saying in a demanding voice, adding silently to herself, 'I didn't need YOUR help!' But even to her that sounded petulant and childish.
Spike sighed loudly, despite how much it hurt his ribs to do so. "Slayer, you were pinned down by the things foot, you couldn't even lift it off you and he wasn't stepping hard. . .yet. I saw you in trouble and stopped to help, which you needed. So get over yourself "
Spike made to stomp off towards his crypt, only a cemetery away, when he was stopped by a Buffy's voice. "Thank you, Spike."
Spike's voice was slightly choked as he said, without turning to look at Buffy, "You're welcome." And he continued walking.
Buffy, left alone to finish her patrol through the west-side cemeteries, was silently contemplating the unusual nature of her relationship, or whatever it was, with Spike, when a bizarre thing happened. A large, reddish-colored bird swooped out of the darkness and landed on a stone memorial angel, turning to look straight at her.
Curious despite herself, Buffy found herself creeping forward slowly, though the bird made no move to leave. When she was no more than two feet away, the bird gave a screech but still didn't move from it's spot. Taking a moment to assess the situation, Buffy noticed a envelope in the bird's beak. When the bird made no other complaints, Buffy reached for the envelope, taking it gently from the bird's wickedly curved beak. Suddenly the bird began to coo softly, and nudged Buffy's hand in search of affection. She tentatively scratched the bird's plume covered head, wondering silently to herself what on earth was going on.
Turning her attention to the envelope, she read the writing on the front, nearly dropping it in her surprise.
To: The Scooby Gang
1630 Revello Drive
Sunnydale, CA
The HellmouthShe opened the letter hastily, her hands trembling slightly. What was inside surprised her more than the address had. Inside, atop several sheets of parchment paper was a letter addressed to her, which she began to read immediately. . .
Dear Ms. Summers,
I realize that my letter and the method of its arrival to you, is cause of some alarm. I sincerely regret the need for such methods, preferring a face to face meeting with you, however due to unfortunate circumstances, I am unable to do so. So it is with great humility that I, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, do ask for your assistance.
My students are in grave danger from a menace that at this time, I am forced to leave unnamed. I can only state that without help from outside sources, my school will be forced to close it's doors, leaving children uneducated in times of great peril. In that vein, I do offer you a position at my school, as a Professor of Muggle Self-Defense.
If you choose to accept this offer, tell Fawkes, and I will know, and begin preparations for your arrival.
Please pass along the other papers to your friends, Ms. Rosenberg, Ms. McClay, Mr. Harris, Ms. Emerson, Mr. Beaumarchet, and Mr. Giles. Be assured that if you do choose to accept my offer, your sister is more than welcome to attend the school, we offer a first rate education.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Order of Merlin, First Class,
Grand Sorcerer,
Chief Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump,
International Confederation of WizardsBuffy read the letter through 3 times, her confusion growing with each sentence read. *A school of witchcraft? Wizardry? And what the hell is a Muggle? And who the heck is Fawkes or Mr. Beaumarchet? Guess I gotta ask Giles.* Shrugging deeply, she gathered up the papers and took off toward home, not even realizing that there was a rather large bird following her.
~:|:Chapter 1:|:Chapter 2:|:Chapter 3:|:Chapter 4:|:~
Another day passed by at number 4 Privet Drive, each day seemingly blending into the next, without end. Harry rarely left his room, not even to eat, which at first didn't seem to bother the Dursley's. Yet after the 4th straight week of silent grief from Harry, Aunt Petunia seemed concerned. Perhaps it was the reminder of the promise she had made in taking in Harry as a baby, or perhaps she was simply seeing things differently, but for some unknown reason, she made an effort to connect with Harry.
At first it was extra food, stating that she wouldn't want 'THOSE PEOPLE' (meaning the Weasley's, Prof. Lupin, Moody, and the others) to think she wasn't taking good care of him. But soon she was stopping outside of his room daily, asking after him, though he rarely roused himself out of his depressive state to answer her. Nothing seemed to shake it from his shoulders, his eyes redlined, his pale cheeks streaked with tears and his already thin body appearing gaunt.
It was the day before his 16th birthday, however that would forever mark the change in his relationship with his aunt. That was the day she gave him 'the book'. Aunt Petunia merely slid it under his door, not saying a word. He had pulled himself of his bed, curious despite himself.
Reaching down to pick it up, Harry noted the leather bound book was extremely well made, and on the cover were three words engraved in silver gilt, The Evans Family. In spite of his lingering depression, Harry found himself curious as to what lay within the lovely book.
Opening the first page, Harry found himself staring into the eyes of an old man. His gray hair was short and neat, shot throughout with strands of red, his slightly wrinkled yet still boyishly charming face split wide with a smile and his bright green eyes twinkling despite the fact that it was a Muggle picture and he didn't move. Beneath this photo was a small inscription, Harold Evans, 1977. Right next to this picture was one of an older woman, whose hazel eyes held the same twinkle as the man's. Her red hair held strands of gray, and her face was creased, but they were obviously laugh-lines. Underneath her picture held another small inscription, Rose Evans, 1977.
Harry was soon flipping through the pages displaying far more animation than he had for the past month. Petunia peeked into his room several hours later and silently walked to the side of Harry's bed. He hadn't noticed her enter, and was very startled to see his normally pinched faced aunt looking down at him with an expression of deep sadness.
Petunia cleared her throat softly, but it was Harry that spoke first. "Thank you." He said it simply and without much inflection, though you could plainly hear the emotion trembling beneath the surface.
Petunia looked taken aback at Harry's thanks, but nodded tightly.
Harry gestured to the book and raised his eyebrow questioningly. "Why?"
Petunia shrugged slightly. "Not sure, really."
Harry accepted that with a small nod. Petunia may hate what Harry and his mother were, but she was a mother nevertheless and after her reminder from Dumbledore about the promise she had made . . .well her mothering instincts seemed to be in overdrive, even with Harry.
"I may have hated what my sister was, what you ARE, but that doesn't mean I'm an unfeeling monster. Despite the way we have treated you, despite everything, you are my nephew. I can't promise you that I or your Uncle or Dudley will ever view you as anything other than an obligation, but you will always have our protection." Petunia stated as she turned to leave. Just as she reached the door, she said in the quietest of voices, though it practically rang out in the silent room, "THEY would have loved you, so much."
Harry said nothing, choosing to turn his attention back to the photo album, finding in time pictures of his mother. Before he could get too involved however, he heard a sharp tapping sound, and turned to see the familiar shape of an owl at his window. Turning the lock, Harry opened the window to the owl, noting that it wasn't one he knew, guessing that it was a public mail owl. He took out the water dish he had for Hedwig, who was out on a hunt, and put it out in front of the strange owl, simultaneously reaching for the letter that was attached to its leg.
Opening the letter, he found inside that it was his O.W.L's results:
Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding
Charms: Exceeds Expectations
DADA: Outstanding
Divination: Poor
Herbology: Exceeds Expectations
History of Magic: Acceptable
Potions: Outstanding
Transfiguration: Exceeds ExpectationsAnd despite a month of seemingly unconquerable depression and grief, Harry shouted with joy, startling the resting owl, making it take flight. Harry barely noticed, he was too happy. The combination of the pictures of his grandparents and the results of his O.W.L's had him practically dancing about his room, which is exactly what Uncle Vernon walked in on.
Uncle Vernon's ruddy complexion deepened to an alarming shade of puce at the sight of Harry dancing around his room. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" Harry stopped his impromptu jig to smile engagingly up at his towering uncle.
"This is me celebrating my grades!" Harry replied cheerfully.
Uncle Vernon looked even more explosive at the idea that 'that school' even bothered with grades. "How did YOU manage decent grades?" Obviously implying that Harry's brain was less than up to snuff.
Harry didn't let his uncle's foul humor ruin his jubilant mood. "Dunno, really. Just did my best on the tests and see here," and he pointed to the letter, "those marks mean I can study to be an Auror!" And he continued his bit of a jig.
Uncle Vernon now looked close to apoplexy, but before he could grab hold of Harry by the very scruff of his neck, he saw Aunt Petunia standing in the doorway, and she was shaking her head frantically. Warning him not to harm Harry, knowing that if Vernon did, it would call down 'those people' on them.
Visibly restraining himself, Vernon turned on his heel and marched out of the room smartly. Harry didn't even seem to notice, nor did he see the strange gleam in his Aunt Petunia's eyes as she watched the young man's joyful celebration for a moment before quietly shutting the door.
Soon Harry's outpouring of joy exhausted itself, and he sat down upon his bed, a grin stretching his facial muscles tight. It was the sound of a racket being made outside his window that shook him from his daze. Standing to look out the window, he saw a very welcome sight standing on the lawn of #4 Privet Drive. The Weasley's and Hermione Granger!
Pounding down the stairs he ran up to the waiting family, noting the happy and relieved grins on their faces. Ron and Hermione dashed up to him and the three were soon hugging each other and leaping up and down in excitement as they each showed the other two their O.W.L results. Uncle Vernon was obviously suffering from an apoplectic fit, as he could be heard choking and spitting curse words from inside the house, while Aunt Petunia watched the joyful celebration taking place on her front lawn in a thoughtful silence. Dudley was nowhere to be seen, not an unusual occurrence these days, as he seemed to hang out with his thug buddies more and more.
Finally the three calmed down long enough for Mrs. Weasley could speak. "Alright, alright you lot! Enough chatter! Hullo Harry! I can tell from that display that your O.W.L's were good?"
"3 Outstandings: Care of Magical Creatures, DADA and Potions 3 Exceeds Expectations: Charms, Herbology, and Transfigurations. 1 Acceptable, History of Magic, and 1 Poor, but that was in Divination, so I don't care." Harry said in a rush. Ginny grinned up at Harry, giving him two thumbs up, which he grinned at happily.
Mrs. Weasley looked pleased, she viewed Harry as if he were one of her own children, and saw his accomplishments as such. "Well done, Harry Well done, indeed!"
"Better than me in Potions and in History of Magic, that's for sure!" Ron stated, laughingly, ignoring his mom's long-suffering sigh and glare, he was WAY too used to that.
Hermione sniffed haughtily, but couldn't help her delighted grin as she held up her letter, saying with only a hint of smugness in her voice, "5 Outstandings: Charms, History of Magic, DADA, Potions, and Transfigurations. 3 Exceeds Expectations: Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy. But I feel I could have done better in Arithmancy and Herbology."
Ron and Harry laughed at their friends slightly pompous air, which had her quickly deflating and grinning up at her two friends that now towered over her. Embracing in a three-way hug, the tension that marked the last school year drained away. Even though Harry still missed Sirius badly, he also felt some of the joy he had missed out on last year and over the summer, leak past his shields.
Mr. Weasley had remained quiet throughout the teen's reunion, content to explore (visually at least) the Muggle world around him, but soon made his presence known. "Well, I realize it's a bit early to be picking you up, Harry. But we talked it through with Dumbledore, and felt that it would be safe enough to take you with us to the Burrows."
Harry's eyes grew wide, "You mean it?"
Mrs. Weasley smiled widely, her eyes warm. "Yes, Harry, we mean it. Unless . . ." And she paused, looking slightly alarmed, "You do want to come to the Burrows don't you?"
Harry couldn't answer fast enough, "YES! Gimme five minutes, I'll just go pack!" And in a flash Harry was dashing up the stairs, blazing past his Aunt and Uncle without a word to either. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all followed closely behind, wanting to help him out. As they thundered up the stairs, Harry questioned the other three closely.
"Where are Fred and George? And what's happening with the Order? And are your parents and Percy speaking yet? What about. . ." Harry was cut off by the answers the others threw back at him.
"Fred and George are at their shop, it's booming! " Ron said, clearly envious.
"And the Order is finally getting some backing from the Ministry. Though as far as I'm concerned, it's a bit too little, too late " Hermione said, anger darkening her tone. Harry nodded, his own anger tightly leashed, for once.
"Mom and Percy are speaking, a bit. Not a lot, cause Mom's still hurt. But not Percy and Dad, Dad's way, way too angry. As for the rest of us? We're not talking with the sneak either." Ginny answered, sneering at the very idea.
Harry grinned at the youngest of the Weasley brood, noticing for the first time how grown up she seemed. The four teens made quick work of packing Harry's things, and were down the stairs and back outside in no time at all. Harry made sure to grab the photo album his aunt had given him.
Aunt Petunia stood in the yard, for once seeming unconcerned about what the neighbors thought as she stood watching her nephew join the Weasley family in their borrowed Ministry vehicles. Harry glanced back at the house, finding her watching him, he broke away from everyone else, making a quick dash back to his aunt's side.
"I don't hate you, you know. I should, probably, but I don't. Thank you, for this." Harry held up the photo album. "It means more to me than you know." Aunt Petunia nodded tightly, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "I know they would have loved you. I'm sorry, that I can't."
Harry accepted the truth of her words, he could feel she really meant it. And before he turned to rejoin the others, he pulled his slight Aunt to him in a fierce but brief hug. The photo album may not make up for years of neglect and abuse but it helped, and he knew he had to acknowledge it.
"Goodbye, Harry."
"Goodbye Aunt Petunia." Both felt the finality of their words, sensing that more than likely Harry would never again return to #4 Privet Drive. It throbbed between them for a moment before Harry moved to join the others, never turning back.
~:|:Chapter 1:|:Chapter 2:|:Chapter 3:|:Chapter 4:|:~
Buffy hurried back to 1630 Revello Drive, knowing that Giles would be eager to see the note the strange bird had delivered to her. Entering the house with her usual quick "SMACK-Bam" of the front door, Buffy turned to the right looking into the dining room, catching sight of Giles immediately at his customary spot at the head of the table.
"Giles. . .I just got the weirdest note "
"Note?"
"Yeah, I was in Memorial, Spike helped me with a Guntar by the way, and this strange birdie showed up, all pretty and red and had the coolest tail . . ."
Giles looked up startled at the last bit. "Red tail? Looks a bit like a fantasy bird?"
Buffy halted her commentary on the strange bird to look at her former Watcher suspiciously. "Yeeeesss. . . and how do you know that?"
"Buffy give me the note." Giles demanded.
Buffy heard an unusual tone in his voice, something that sent off warning bells of "Ripper" through her. Giles scanned the note quickly, and opened his own note with a quick tear, reading this a bit slower but no less urgently. Buffy was becoming alarmed at the queer expression on Giles' face. Glancing up at his former charge, Giles correctly interpreted her alarm and smiled comfortingly at her. But Buffy was not going to be appeased.
"Giles what's going on? Why would a BIRD be bringing me mail, and in a cemetery no less? And why would there be messages for everyone, and who in the HELL is Albie Dumbdoor, Mr. Bowmarchie or Fawkes?"
Giles looked at Buffy with a bit of exasperation tinging his features at her familiar way of butchering peoples' names. "Buffy, Albus Dumbledore is a the head of an exclusive school in the United Kingdom, called Hogwarts. It's a school especially for the children of Wand Mages. Fawkes is Professor Dumbledores', I guess you would call him a familiar. Fawkes is a Phoenix, and he can deliver messages to people because he is a magical creature."
"Wand Mages? And why would this Professor want ME to teach at his school? And who is this Mr. Bowmarchie?"
"Wand Mages are wizards or witches who pull the force of their magic from their blood or life force and use a wand for a focus and conduit for the magic." Giles answered the first question with relative ease, but hesitated slightly before continuing.
"As for why Professor Dumbledore would want you to teach, well, Buffy you do realize you are considered a magical creature yourself, don't you? That the Slayer was created by mages, wand-users and wandless, many millennia ago to help defeat the dark forces that threatened to consume the world?" At Buffy's hesitant nod, Giles continued. "Buffy he needs your strength, both of body and convictions to defeat this evil that threatens. I can assure you that if you took this position the Council would even back your efforts."
Buffy made a face at the mention of the Council but motioned for Giles to continue.
"As to your last question, Mr Beaumarchet is. . .well he's uhm. . ."
"He's me."
Buffy whirled to look at the front door. Standing on the threshold, Spike made no move to enter further into the house, anger suffusing his features.
"YOU?"
"Yeah, me, and whatinhell do you want to know about that for?" Spike was belligerent with his discomfort.
Giles cut off the impending argument, with a quick gesture and a look at both the warring parties.
"Enough, both of you. If you'll give me a moment Buffy, I can and WILL explain all of this to you, however I need a minute to discuss this with Spike, first." And without another word, Giles pulled Spike out onto the front porch.
Buffy couldn't resist sneaking up to the front door, and holding her ear to it, hoping to hear what the other two were discussing, but the thickness of the door prevented her attempt in eavesdropping.
Outside, Giles pulled Spike to the far corner of the porch, knowing his Slayer's tendencies. Spike complied with his unspoken demands, a petulant and uneasy expression upon his face.
"Before you start in, read this first." Giles handed Spike the letter Buffy had received from Fawkes, as well as the letter addressed to Mr. Beaumarchet. Spike read through the first quickly, but hesitated before opening the other one. Then with a falsely blasé shrug, tore it open.
To: Mr. William "The Bloody" Beaumarchet, 14th Duke of Ellesworth, a.k.a. Spike
Hardwicke Mausoleum, Sunnydale Memorial Graveyard
Sunnydale, CA
The HellmouthDear William,
It is with great regret that I call upon you. I have tried these many years to keep you away from the chaos that surrounds witch and wizard society, in an effort to spare you the dangers a vampire may come in contact with here. However it is to no avail. My students are in need of your expertise, and wisdom.
I have offered the others, known as the Scooby Gang, positions in my employ here at Hogwarts. Yet it is truly you and the Slayer we are needing most of all. That being said, I hereby offer you the positions of Assistant Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, alongside Professor Quirin, and Professor of Muggle Self-Defense along with Elizabeth "Buffy" Summers. I would also like to offer you an unofficial position as bodyguard, to a very valuable and vulnerable student.
Your power and The Slayer's will be of great aid in the coming war against Voldemort. Knowing your voracious need for knowledge, I have no doubt you know of our continued troubles with his evil. Please, do not turn from us now. To respond, simply give Fawkes your answer, I await it anxiously.
As always, your friend and brother in arms,
Albus DumbledoreWith a scowl marring his otherwise handsome features, Spike glanced at Giles. Giles was watching him with a stillness he had only seen in the Watcher once before, when he had glimpsed "The Ripper".
"Did you read this?" Indicating his own letter, Spike continued to scowl.
"No, I did not."
"Did Buffy?"
"No, or she wouldn't be as curious as she is now."
"What position did Albus offer you?"
Giles cocked his head, curious how a vampire would come to call the greatest wizard of their time, Albus, as if he was personally acquainted with him, but said nothing in that vein. "Professor of Demon Classification, along with Anya. He also was thinking I could work on helping decipher some prophecies. Dumbledore's afraid that Voldemort will begin recruiting demons soon."
Spike tilted his eyebrow up at Giles' use of Voldemort's name. "I see you don't subscribe to belief that the more you say your enemies name the more powerful he becomes."
Giles shook his head contemptuously. "In this case, no. Voldemort, his power comes from the death and chaos he causes, not from his name, especially that over the top handle he chose."
"Yeah, he always was a bit of a prat."
"You knew him?"
"Yep, right after Angelus left us, Dru left me for awhile. Off to play around with some Chaos Demon or other, I guess. I paid a visit to an old friend of mine, and met a young Tom Riddle, right before he decided to unjustly accuse another friend of a wicked crime. I wasn't able to help the other friend, he was tossed outta Hogwarts, though I did manage to convince the headmaster of the time that it was in his best interests to keep the bloke on as groundskeeper." Spike stated matter-of-factly.
Giles looked shocked for a moment, then covered it quickly with his normal stern manner. "What position did Professor Dumbledore offer you?"
"Assistant Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I guess Co-Professor of Muggle Self-Defense, along with Buffy." Spike left out the bodyguard position, having a general idea of whom he was likely to be guarding, he thought it a good idea not to mention it to the Watcher, yet.
Giles looked thoughtfully at the vampire standing across from him. "You're a good choice for a DADA teacher, but are you sure you and Buffy will be able to handle working together?"
Spike smirked, though no humor touched his eyes. "You act as if the decision is already made. For all you know, Buffy may decide against the position, or I might."
Now it was Giles turn to smirk. "Oh, she'll take the position, and more than likely you will too. I thought getting her away from Angel was a Herculean task, and in the end it wasn't my efforts that accomplished it, but rather a mutual parting of ways, but . . . you and Buffy. . .I'm not even sure if I should try. For some odd, and inexplicable reason, you're drawn to each other. I'm not sure whether it's simply the animal attraction of two predators who recognize each other, or something more, but I can't say it's necessarily a bad thing you two have."
Spike barked out a laugh, though no humor was evident in the sound. "She hates me, Watcher."
Giles smiled then, ruefully. "No she doesn't. Despite my best lectures and your own behavior, she's fascinated by you. You're the only one who has managed to fight her to a standstill, neither side winning, in her career as a Slayer. Not just once, but every time you've fought. You are her equal, in strength and in cunning, and she might not want to, but she respects that, and you for it."
Spike couldn't hide his shock. "You've got to be kidding me?!"
Giles did laugh then, boisterously. "If you weren't her equal do you think she would have let you take care for Dawn? Or her mother? She may not admit it to herself or to anyone else, but you are as much a part of the Scooby gang, now, as Xander is. She needs you, to watch her back, to watch out for her family."
Spike couldn't say a word. He was simply stunned to silence.
"Now, what say you to us going inside and divvying out the rest of the letters. Xander and Anya just pulled up, and I think that if you and I sat out here any longer Buffy might just spontaneously combust." Giles clapped Spike on the shoulder, jolting him out of his stupor, and steered him toward the door, shoving him through with a good natured chuckle.
To Be Continued. . .