Disclaimer: I don't own HP and I don't own BTVS.
If there was one thing that anyone who had ever met him would agree to, it was that Ron was always going to be the one that (even if it was after copious amounts of complaining and giving out and general negativity) would step up and do the job if nobody else was going to.
It was one of the reasons he'd become friends with Harry Potter in the first place (poor lonely-looking weirdo in a carriage all on his own on the train. Ron had never told Harry but he'd had half a dozen offers to sit in other carriages that day) and one of the reasons he'd accompanied his friend on the incredibly dangerous, woefully stupid- but ultimately successful-, search for leftover bits of Dark Wizard. He could even laugh about that, now.
More importantly than all that right now though, is the fact that it also let him know exactly when he was in over his head- that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and tightness in his chest that clearly said 'Ron, mate, there are smarter and more qualified people out there for this job. Why are you here again?' Shaking his head, Ron answered his own question: No-body else was going to do it.
And he should have known- he should have. Hermione had told him. She'd done the bloody research; he'd just signed the contract. Stupid Hermione.
It had started off fairly well- he didn't have any problems with Muggles or their weapons (even he would admit to rather liking both) and he'd grown up with strong, independent women so that wasn't a problem either. Their Demons were another story. He really wasn't a fan of Muggle Demons- who knew there were so many and that they were so intent on ripping his entrails out through his ears?
That thought brought him right back to Hermione and how she really should be far more vehement in warning him about things. It didn't help that when she said 'dire' she could be talking about the end of the world or his handwriting, and there was no way to tell the difference.
But back to the demons- and how utterly ineffective his magic was, thus far, proving to be against them. He remembered this happening before, of course- all magical creatures were like that, to an extent. But he was intent on sulking so being rational wasn't really of much interest.
He couldn't help but wince as the girl in front of him tied the bandage off on his ribs. He had tried to explain about his bone-mending potions but she'd just ignored him after staring at him like he was crazy (Him? Crazy? She'd been the one who attacked the bloody thing that had thrown him clear across the room, and he was the crazy one?) and insisted on bandaging him up herself.
That would have been okay, he supposed, if she wasn't doing her doctoring in a room full of Slayers and Watchers that he had yet to be introduced to. That stung his pride more than he would ever admit (except maybe, someday, to Harry. Harry who was, at that very moment, tucked away deep inside the Ministry of Magic under the watchful guard from half of the Aurors in Britain. Not that Harry knew that. He thought he was a guest) and to make matters worse, everyone was staring at him. He could feel his ears burning.
Before he even had a chance to put back on his shirt- although he did manage to mutter thanks- a tiny blonde woman was standing in front of him, eyeing him with a critically assessing gaze. He recognised that look as the one Hermione's mother had been sporting when he'd first been introduced to her. Cool, calculating and just willing him to put a foot wrong so she could pounce. He gulped.
"Tell me again Giles, why we've been saddled with a wizard?" She said wizard like it was a dirty word- the way some wizards said muggle, he realised. Before he could even think to protest (he must have hit his head harder than he'd thought, to let her get away with that), a grey haired man with glasses (a watcher, Ron supposed) spoke up.
"He is here by request of the British government Buffy, and we must agree to the request- there has been a Wizarding representative to the Council for as long as the council existed." Buffy- what a stupid name- snorted.
"Oh, and we're holding so tightly to everything else the Council's been doing for years?" The elder man reddened and some of the other watchers laughed. Ron didn't get the joke, so he chose to stay quiet. Laughing at something you obviously don't understand is worse than not laughing at all. She gazed up at him again, vice cold.
"I don't know Giles, Slayers and magic? Generally un-mixy things- And this one is just a kid!" She spun to face her watcher, suspicion in her eyes. "Did they send him to us so that he'd get killed and they could move in? They did, didn't they? Oh my God, we're going to need-" Whatever they were going to need was cut off by a very loud, frustrated groan from the red-head.
"Argh!" He leapt off the table, ignoring the flare of pain for from his ribs (it wasn't worse than anything he'd had before so he could live with it for now), and scowling down at the tiny woman.
"Listen here, Slayer, firstly: my name is Ron. I'll spell that for you if you think you're going to have trouble with it. Secondly: I was not sent here to die, thank you very much. I've been on far too many suicide missions in my life, and this is practically retirement in comparison." If his ears had been red before, they were almost on fire now. "Thirdly: you need me here, for Merlin's sake! If for nothing else than to fix the disaster you call your 'magical protection'" His voice was a sneer worthy of Snape at that one. "Twelve year olds from my world could break in here and murder you all in your sleep and that's not even starting on your actual security- I've been here three days and I have yet to see a single patrol. And where the hell are your lookouts? Who's guarding your perimeter? You're in the sticks here, Slayer, and an attack here would trap you all." By this point, he was pointing at her and shaking his finger. "And lastly, I can't be four years younger than you, so who the hell are you calling kid?"
The first one to laugh was one of the new slayers, barely fifteen and brunette, secretly delighted to see someone stand up to the amazing Buffy. None of her fellow Slayers would ever speak badly of her, even behind her back, and this was just too good an opportunity to miss.
Amazingly, she was joined in her laughter by most of the other slayers- although, to the trained eye, the Sunnydale slayers in the room weren't laughing. They were staring daggers- and several of the watchers.
And then, miracle of miracles, Buffy herself smiled widely.
"Nice to meet you Ron, I'm Buffy Summers. Sorry about my spazz- I'm a teeny bit paranoid when it comes to wizards." She stuck out her hand to shake his and if she was a little rougher than usual, he didn't react.
"Not nearly paranoid enough for my liking." He grinned. Laughing still, she spun on her heel and walked to the door.
"Come on, I'll show you the war room- all our defensive stuff is there."
As they passed through the door, the Slayers closest heard her ask quietly,
"That stuff you said, about our magical defences… is that true?" As he nodded the affirmative, the other slayers turned to one another. Willow was not going to like this.
They reached the 'War Room' in awkward silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Buffy pulled open the door and ushered the wizard in ahead of her. Alone in the empty room the silence was even more deafening.
A large mahogany table dominated the centre of the room, opposite floor to ceiling windows. The other walls were covered with maps of the world- dotted with information about Demon hotspots, Slayer locations and Council property. Ron wandered over to the window, gazing out over the lush gardens to the forest beyond.
"I'd like your permission to get a team in here as soon as possible to make a start on fixing your wards-or actually, to rip them down and start again." He turned to face her, quirking an eyebrow in her direction. "I'll pick the team myself- make sure that nobody has been sent here to get killed." To Ron's amusement, she blushed.
"I apologised for that already!" They lapsed into a less awkward silence this time, Buffy perched on the table top and Ron sitting opposite her on the window seat.
"What is it about the magic that deficient anyway? One of the most powerful wiccas in the world laid those wards." Ron grimaced at her near-accusatory tone.
"And that's the problem, right there- Wiccan Magic." He shrugged. "It's just not the same. It's… clumsy. There's no finesse. It relies on power alone, and that's all too easily defeated if you know what you're doing. Powerful isn't the same as strong." He paused, and she nodded. That, she understood. "Demons can't find the Wizarding world Buffy. That's what we can offer you here."
He thought he'd seen her cheerful before, but from the way her face lit up at that idea, he couldn't help but wonder he'd missed the sadness in her eyes.
"A real sanctuary then? I think I'd like that- we'd like that. Bring in whoever you need, I want this done as soon as possible." She bit her lip and ducked so he wouldn't see the sudden tears in her eyes. "These girls are my responsibility- I made them and I'll do whatever I can to keep them safe. I think I can trust you Ron- but if I'm wrong, and you screw up, I'll kick your ass myself." The tears were gone when she finally met his gaze, and Ron saw the woman who had saved the world countless times. He saw what her Slayers saw when they looked at her.
A hero. A champion.
She looked lonely.
"That's my job too now, Buffy. You're not the only one, okay? I'll get the team together and we'll start working tomorrow. You'll need to keep the girls inside- they can't be allowed to interfere." She nodded grimly, as excited at that prospect as she would have been at the notion of herding cats. "If you could get your Wiccan friend to be here, that'd be useful too." At that, she lifted a small silver fellytone (telephone, he corrected himself. Telephone) from the table next to her and punched several buttons.
"Hey Wills, how ya doin? Nothings up, really, but I need you here tomorrow." Ron couldn't hear the response, but Buffy didn't look defeated so he figured it couldn't be too bad. "Do your best, okay? Bye." She glanced at Ron. "She's in Brazil but she'll be here by morning." It was getting dark outside. Ron groaned.
"More Wiccan magic? Trans-Atlantic teleportation?" He rubbed his temples with his fingertips. "Does she realise what she's doing to the world when she does that?" He winced at the thought. "I might have to get someone in to talk to her too." Shaking his head as if to clear it, he continued in a far more cheerful tone,
"So, explain these maps to me, will you? At the moment, they look like a two year old was let loose in here with some of your Muggle coloured pens." Grinning, Buffy jumped off the table neatly and opened her mouth to speak. She loved the maps, and not just because they were her idea.
Later, as she gave him the tour, Buffy couldn't help but enjoy herself. She'd been all set to hate him, she knew. They talked a lot, though, walking around. He told her about his family, about how his parents had died, and she told him about her mother and Dawn. And Spike He understood loss and pain, and he wasn't automatically predisposed to hating vampires, so he could just listen and let her grieve. And then make her laugh like she hadn't since Spike had been alive.
It was a long time since she'd made a new friend. Since Riley, probably, and he didn't actually count. She had troops, now. Not friends.
As they rounded the last corridor- passing the dorms for the junior slayers- she found herself telling him about her own death. The middle one, that is. The one with Heaven.
She wasn't too surprised by his reaction- most people were shocked at the idea.
She was surprised by his silence, beyond the initial gasp. Ron, she had quickly learned, was rarely silent.
"What's the deal? I've told you worse than that tonight- remember the time I ruined my favourite shoes with demon gunk? Way worse." Her voice may have been light and cheerful, but even she didn't believe it. He met her gaze with saddened blue eyes.
"There is nothing worse than that, Buffy. Not just for you- I can't even imagine what you've been through and I don't know how you've managed to survive since. But to do that- the darkness that comes with necromancy". His expression changed to one of disgust and he shook his head. "It's just…" He was starting to sound angry now. He did that a lot, too, she knew now.
"It's so wrong. It's against every natural law."
He was silent for a few minutes as they walked the length of the corridor, back towards the stairs and the war room. "I'm not surprised that the balance shifted so quickly: a Slayer resurrected is a paradox, something that shouldn't be possible, but is. It's all so wrong Buffy." He realised how his words sounded then, and stopped walking to look at her, make sure she met his eyes. "It's not that I'm not glad you're alive- because I am- but this Wiccan witch just astounds me in her arrogance."
Buffy was the one to stay silent, now, letting his words sink in. When she spoke, her words were soft.
"Giles felt like that, too, when he found out. I shouldn't be alive, I know that, but I won't be sorry that I am- not anymore. Willow is my friend and she did what she thought was right." There was steel behind her voice now, too. "I won't listen to anyone who says otherwise." He had no choice, really, but to apologise. It wasn't his place to take offence for what had been done to her.
"I'm sorry. I won't say anything again. But…" His gaze turned calculating and she frowned.
"But what, kid?" She may have been frowning, but she grinned at that to show that there were no hard feelings.
"Would you mind if I had someone look at you? A healer, I mean. Just to make sure that everything is… the way it should be." He thought he saw the briefest flash of anxiety cross her face, but he had sounded so concerned that she had to agree.
"Only if you promise to be there too. I don't like doctors, and I don't like magic. I'll need someone there that I trust and who knows what's going on." And she smiled at him again, anxiety gone, and started walking once more.
When Buffy woke in the morning it was to the sound of someone knocking on her door. Or pounding, more like, but that could have just been her head. As senior slayer she had her own rooms far away from the dorms and as such, was not used being woken.
"Come in!" She yelled, muttering "This better be good" under her breath as she climbed out of the bed. A junior slayer- Sandy? Mandy? Maybe Candy?- stuck her head around the door.
"Morning, Ms. Summers. Mr. Giles sent me to tell you that the Wizard team are here. Mr. Weasley wanted you to meet them before they start working. Can I tell them you're on your way?" Buffy blinked, once, and glanced at her clock. 8. 15 Am. She'd been in bed less than three hours. How had Ron managed to assemble a team already?
"Yeah, tell him I'll be right there." She didn't have time for a shower, so she pulled her (bed) hair into a high ponytail and opened her wardrobe. Groaning, she retrieved the only clean things in it- an oversize UC Sunnydale sweatshirt (Dawn had it made specially for her after the collapse) and a pair of old jeans. So much for making a good impression. She was going to look like the littlest Hobo meeting Ron's friends.
Then again, maybe she could use it to her advantage, somehow. People were always underestimating her anyway- let them think that she didn't clean herself too. She didn't care. Really.
She washed her face, scrubbed her teeth and was down in the lobby a mere six minutes after Mandy (she as nearly sure it was Mandy) knocked on her door. She took in the small (ten or so) group of slayers, standing alert on one side of the lobby. The wizards (robes and all) stood in a crowd on the other side. Between them, stood Ron, Giles and several other watchers.
"Morning all- what's the sitch?" Her voice was only partially falsely cheerful. Most of the cheer was real.
As she'd intended, everyone turned to her and she could feel the junior slayers
relax a little at her arrival. Giles and the watchers shot grateful looks in her direction. Ron, it seemed, hadn't been tense at all, and offered her a half-wave and a booming,
"What took you so long Summers? I was under the impression that you slayers don't need to sleep like us normal humans do?" She couldn't help it, she snorted. How ladylike.
"That's not fair Weasley- especially since you were the one who kept me until five in the morning. Whose bright idea was the tequila, exactly?" Her tone was, in turns, teasing and accusatory.
"What? Is the big, bad slayer hung over? Catch!" The bottle he threw was accurate and she caught it carefully, grimacing at the smell when it was uncapped.
"Gross. What's in this stuff?" He grinned wryly.
"You really don't want to know. But it will get rid of the hangover, and then we can get to work." She grimaced again, but swallowed the potion in one mouthful.
"Eurgh! That is vile!" But she perked up quickly when the potion kicked in and her headache disappeared. "Thanks!" She shot a smile to Ron before turning to her slayers.
"You guys can go start you drills in the gym- I've got this for now. Stay inside though, until either Ron or I give you the okay? Make sure everyone knows, Rona. The grounds are off limits today. We are strictly housebound." Rona nodded, and trooped away with the rest of the slayers, trusting their leader to deal with whatever was going on.
"Is Willow here yet?" She asked Giles, who nodded.
"She's in her room, getting changed. She, uh, has yet to meet our new friends."
Buffy took her warning from that, and nodded.
"Send someone to get her, will you? She's needed here." Giles went himself, leaving Buffy with two quiet watchers (the best kind, in her opinion) and Ron's people.
"So? Aren't you going to introduce me?" Cheekily, she grinned, resting her hand on her hip and making a face. Ron laughed. She liked that about him- how ready he was to laugh all the time.
"I suppose. If I have to. Everyone- this is Buffy Summers. Buffy, this is Alastor Moody- he's a veteran Auror, and there isn't a dark spell he hasn't dodged." Moody grunted, and shook her hand- only grimacing slightly as she squeezed.
"And this is Hermione Granger- she's a healer, and she's here just in case anything unexpected happens." Hermione's smile was stiff as she offered her hand, which Buffy shook enthusiastically.
"Ron has told me all about you- we definitely have to get together and you can fill me in on all the gossip from when 'Ickle Ronnie was in school." Her tone was conspiratory and Hermione's smile warmed. She moved to speak, but Ron interrupted with
"If she did that, she'd be incriminating herself too. And anyway, I never fininshed school, did I? Can't be too much to tell." Hermione laughed, and the red-headed man next to her grinned, stretching the scars across his face.
"No, you didn't, and Mum never lets you forget it either." Ron scowled, and introduced Buffy to his eldest brother, Bill.
"Oooh, Ron. You didn't tell me your brothers were so handsome. What happened to you?" Bill laughed again and Ron grinned.
"Lay off this one Buff- he's married, and Fleur is very protective. But I have four more, if you're interested?" Buffy stuck out her tongue at him, and sidestepped neatly as he tried to mess up her hair.
She could get used to having these people around.