Chapter 4 - Raw Wounds

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Chapter 4 – Raw Wounds

“And how does this help me get rid of him?” Angel asked the excited Witch after she'd explained her findings, most of which he didn't understand; not that he'd let her know that. He lent back in his chair with a creak of leather and steepled his fingers at chest level. The Witch had burst into his office, nearly giddy, a glowing piece of paper that meant nothing to him clutching her hand, and something in him clenched, perhaps his walnut of a heart, when her expression changed at his words. The Slayer crossed her arms over her maroon and black Wizarding robes with an aggravated sigh, cocking her head into a scowl. For as many people who called him friend, ally and the number of women whose heart he had stolen he really was an ass. Maeve ran a hand through her loose curls, a shaky, longly drawn breath escaping her nostrils with a hiss. A bolt of anger raced to her wand hand urging her to strike, to curse this silly, stupid Vampire. As her fingers twitched towards the wand holstered on her hip William stepped forward, distracting her and deflating her magic's need to be release.

“Peaches, stop being a bloody git and listen to the Witch,” he grunted, wrapping his long, leather jacket around him as though he were cold. With a glance back at her, a quick wink unseen by Liam, and she was calmed again.

“It helps because all I have to do now is find the proper spell or ceremony to match my calculations, preform said spell, he'll become corporeal again and thus able to leave the building. You then be 'rid' of him,” she still nearly growled at the Vampire in front of her. She found him so infuriating and wondered briefly what it was the Vampire did for Wolfram and Hart besides sit at that huge desk and brood. He had done nothing to help her, besides stay out of her way and ignore her in quite a stellar fashion.

“Well, then why don't you go do that, and don't forget to take him with you,” he said pointing at the blonde spirit next to her and waved them both out to return to his brooding. Maeve pushed away from the desk, forcefully moving the oak thing a few inches before turning towards Spike with an exasperated sigh. She lent into him, her scent again washing over him, a puff of honeysuckle and ink. Spike did his best to mask the fact that he was smelling her again and gave her his best 'what can I do for you, Pet?' expression.

“What is his problem?” she asked through her teeth, under her breath.

“I couldn't tell you, Liam's a git; he has been for centuries. He may have been one even before he was Sired but I didn't know him then,” Spike shrugged as they walked out of the room, wrapping his long leather jacket around him. Maeve's cheery smile was gone, her face fallen as something dark seem to surface then fall in her dark eyes as they returned to her office. He growled lowly as he looked back at Liam's closed door; knowing, somewhere in his subconscious, that when he was solid again he would make his Grandsire sorry he had been the cause of his Slayer's current state. He, however, didn't notice that he was claiming Maeve in his own, even if just in his head. Once they were in the room the dark haired woman threw, with probably with more force than necessary, a pinch of emerald green powder into the fireplace in the corner of her room.

“Albus Dumbledore,” she stated, clearly enunciating through her teeth and crossing her arms as she crouched in front of the magical flames. They waited a moment, the fire swirling from red to green until suddenly, with a blowing of heat and the scent of magic, the floating head of the Headmaster appeared.

“Maeve! William! So good to see you both,” he exclaimed in excitement, addressing each one personally. The Vampire chuckled, smiling down at the old man while Maeve laughed outright, a bark that surprised Spike in its strength of sound.

“Bee,” Spike nodded, sitting cross legged next to his Slayer, his jacket and her robes flaring out, the leather of his laying on top of the brocade silk of hers.

“Willy, how have you been old man, well, besides being truly dead that is?” he asked with a twinkle and a chuckle behind his voice. Spike had, even having been raised a Pureblood, never gotten used to speaking to disembodied heads, difficulty talking via Floo but took it in stride.

“I could ask you the same question, seeing as how you managed to rise from the from the grave yourself,” he stated sardonically; even with all that had gone on in Sunnyhell he'd still managed to keep himself abreast of the goings on in the Wizarding world. The news of the old man's supposed death had pinched at his supposed unbeating heart. They had been friends even before their acceptance to Hogwarts, their families traveling within the same high circles of society. So when Maeve had told him of the coot's miraculous rebirth at, what she had termed, the Final Confrontation, he'd smiled. Though he'd nearly laughed at the wording, Final Confrontation, as though one battle, one fight could stop the evil of the world from trying to take over.

“To true, to true,” Dumbledore laughed, “But I'm sure you called for more than idle chit chat. Maeve, have you made any progress?”

“Yes, sir, I have. I'll be sending you my calculations but I wanted to know if I could make use of your Vamprye Heritage Codex. Even Wolfram and Hart can't get me a copy of that,” she stated while Dumbledore's shaggy eyebrows raised in surprise. The old man seemed to be thinking deeply on the subject and for a brief moment Maeve feared he would deny her the text.

“Of course,” he stated finally, “I'll send them with Fawkes once we're done,”

“Thank you, sir,” she said with a sigh of relief, “I have some additional numbers I want to add into my theorem prior to sending them to you, I'll direct it before I leave for the evening,”

“Excellent, excellent Maeve, my dear. Willy, do you have time for a word?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, lifting his hand to steady Maeve as she stood, a movement not unnoticed by the Headmaster. She nearly put her hand in his when they both seemed to remember that his corporeal abilities were shaky at best. But he smiled winningly up her as she straightened her robes, her hands running over the wide leather belt she wore under her bust to accentuate her waist, causing her to pause before turning towards her desk. The smile that came off of Spike while he spoke with the Headmaster was one of the few genuine ones Maeve had seen when he wasn't talking with Winifred or herself. It changed the room; like a window thrown open into a stuffy room bringing in a breeze to remove the stagnate air. A change Maeve found she enjoyed as she shuffled through her papers, starting another set of Arithmancy equations adding Liam Angel into them.

“She's a hard worker, could have mistaken her for me own house,” Spike chuckled re settling himself in front of the fire as he spoke with the current Headmaster of Hogwarts and his former best mate when he'd been human. They hadn't been face to face in over fifty years and Spike took stock in the age, the extra lines and worn expression two Wizarding wars had left on the man. The only things left unscathed were the glittering twinkle of mischief on the Gryffindor's eyes.

“She has always been a very determined woman. The Sorting Hat spent the longest on her than any I've ever seen. It told me once she was the perfect balance of every house and in the end it let her choose,”

“Really, I would have thought a Slayer would have picked Gryffindor,” Spike stated thinking on Buffy for the first time in weeks, her fiery spirit, her bravery against odds that sent most running in the opposite direction. He'd often thought of her in terms of the red and gold house.

“Ahh, but she is from a long line of Ravenclaws, tradition you know,” Albus said, looking at him over his half-moon glasses.

“Yes, long line of Huffs meself. I was pondering on a thing, Bee. She tried to kill half the people here when she first came. Would of done a number on my person, weren't I already spiritifed and all. Then her attitude completely changes after her office is hooked up to the floo, why's that you think?” He asked pointedly keeping his voice low; though it wouldn't of mattered as the Slayer-Witch was currently very involved in the scratch of her quill on her muggle lined paper.

“If you were wondering if I talked with her, yes I did. She begged me for reassignment but I knew she was best served by working with you. She needs this to heal,” he said.

“Heal? From what? She doesn't talk much on the bad things in her life, though we have a demon mind reader here that seems to know something,” Spike asked, his dark brows furrowed.

“Your relation, Lucius, had her for a night, seems he got quite a bit done from what I saw in her mind. They met on the battlefield during the Final Confrontation, after she came into her Slayer Powers, something I hear we have a Wiccan to thank for, he didn't last very long after that. She was put on trial after the war, she'd used two Unforgivables in battle, and though she was on the winning side the Ministry didn't want to appear soft. On anyone. She'd used Cruciatus and the Killing Curse; they weren't going to just let that go,” Albus said solemnly. Spike knew what it took to cast those curses, the rawness left in their wake on the caster as it ripped through the body, an irreproachable wound on the soul as it tore though you. They weren't the most wicked spells he'd ever seen, there was more in heaven and hell that could condemn a soul, but they left the most damage on the caster. A near visible tear that could devour a person whole if left untreated to wreak havoc on the body and soul.

“Has she seen a Medi-Witch about it?” He whispered looking over at the Witch in question as though the darkness in her were catching.

“Indeed Willy, it was the very first thing we did for her once she was released. Madam Pomfrey is the best in her field, years of dealing with Severus and all his magical backlashes has made her an expert in a way. But Maeve completely baffled her, her body chemistry as a Slayer is so much different from a regular Witch or Wizard that there was little we could do for her but to keep her busy. I have Severus working on a potion to mend the rift in her soul but progress has been slow without her here,”

“Why send here here, Bee, so broken. There's been days she can hardly contain her anger. Nearly killed Harmony and Liam more 'en once. Not that I care 'bout them two, mind, just worried it might put a but of a damper on my becoming solid,” Spike said, his voice taking on the lower class accent he had adopted after being turned the more agitated he became.

“Willy, she'd the only Witch for the job. She has the proper experience and no one else at my disposal had her special talents,” he stated.

“And what talents are those?” Spike asked, leaning forward.

“Oh, scones, she makes the most scrumptious lemon scones,” Albus replied a twinkle and damnedably knowing smirk coming over his features, “Willy you should really come to Scotland to visit, haven't seen you in the flesh, as it were, in quite some time,” he stated, changing the subject quickly. Spike let it go for now, but he had created a spot of worry in his mind for Maeve. He frowned at the Headmaster's comment wondering if the man had gone dotty.

“Albus, Vampire,” he stated, sifting his face in quick succession to prove his point, “I can't even step foot onto the grounds of Hogwarts” he said sardonically.

“Ah, but as the Headmaster I have the power to invite you,” Albus replied, his shaggy eyebrows waggling in response.

“Then why bloody haven't you?” he nearly shouted indignantly.

“Most likely because you have only recently acquired a soul, William,” came a voice from behind Spike. It was sparrow quiet, the barest flapping of sound but with an exasperated hiss to it. Both men, Wizard and Vampire, looked to where Maeve sat, her head down and her riot of curls barely brushing the desktop, still scratching away at the glowing equation, her eyes trained on the paper.

“Did you say something my dear?” Albus asked innocently wanting to see more interaction between the two. Willy had been right when he had said Maeve wanted out of this assignment but her behavior towards the Vampire

“You heard me, or at least William did,” she stated without looking up fro her parchment, her brows furrowed in either concentration or aggravation.

“How can she do Arithmancy, listen to us and talk at the same time?” Spike asked, hoping she hadn't heard their conversation regarding her person.

“Speaking and simple comprehension doesn't require as much brain power as you think. Magical mathematical equations are my specialty and thus are second nature,” she said finally lifting her head and meeting Spike's eyes. He smirked, she'd sounded like Fred for a moment.

“Been spending time with the flighty Bird have we?” He asked in a softly mocking tone.

“Winnifred and I get on well, I see no problem in our interacting on a more personal level. Would you rather I hang out with Harmony?” she questioned wickedly, lifting her eyebrow at him and a smirk, very reminiscent of his own covering her face.

“No, love, I don't think many can handle more than a few minutes with that crazy bit of ditsy,” Spike said. Albus watched the two, his sparkle nearing blinding proportions, as they snipped playfully at each other

“Well, children, is there anything else, Minister Weasley and I are meeting for tea in an hour and I still need to over see the mailing of next years Acceptance letters,” the Headmaster stated in a cheery voice.

“No, I just really need that text before I can make much more headway, Sir” Maeve stated from her desk.

“I'll do that, my dear,” he said, nodding, “think on what I've said, Willy and I want to see the both of you once Willy's no longer able to walk through walls,”

“Yes, sir,” they both said, Spike in more or less mockingly, as the Headmaster disappeared and the magical flames died down.

End Chapter 4