Title: Sand and Sorcery
Author: scy
Feedback: scynneh@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of them belong to me. 
Fandom: BTVS/Harry Potter
Pairing: None, Faith, Snape
Spoilers: S7 finale.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: In response to Jane St. Clair and Sheila Perez's challenge about Verona Beach. I must also note that Glossing made a point of telling me to dive in.
June 2004-July 2005

I.

There had to be a guidebook on out of the way towns that were actually niches for the uncommon made normal. Being a Slayer gave girl instincts for finding the oddest kinds of havens.

Faith's reasons for getting off the bus right as the the sign announcing 'now entering V. Beach' whipped by in an emphatic splash of green weren't clear. It could have been that she was just incapable of ignoring such things as *gut feelings*. If there was something out of place, she wanted to take a closer look. Unlike B, she just might not put it all back together afterwards.

While Verona wasn't an overly curious town, it was different. The feeling was that of the high that came during the holidays. Yet in spite of the inescapable sense of 'permanent carnival there was nothing dramatically demonic going on. She could move on, find another place that conceivably needed the skills of a Slayer.

Still, there wasn't a shortage of girls looking to go the 'wandering do-gooder' route, and she was enjoying this place. It was scenic and with more than enough oddities to keep her looking in corners. Light and water never let themselves be forgotten. Neon, like concrete, was everywhere. Everything was so bright that she wondered if anyone knew what true night was like anymore. Finding one's way to an eatery or other establishment would be a sure bet even after sundown. It wasn't hard to relax when days were long enough that 'dark' was a distant possibility.

Not only was water within walking distance, it seemed that salt had sunk into everything. Even in buildings where air conditioning was the only source of cool breezes, the tang of sand and sea wafted through the air. A few minutes of breathing deeply convinced her that she would be staying.

It was easy to find a small beach cottage, and there were plenty of establishments not averse to muscle with an attractively misleading face. Being a bouncer-bodyguard for the wealthier residents wasn't a bad way to keep herself in clothes and rent money. After all, she didn't need much else.

A little hunting in her 'off time' refined instinct and kept her from falling into the sort of warmth-induced stupor that only led to getting soft. She would have expected demons to flourish in a year-round vacation town, but it seemed that there was a sort of protection laid over Verona Beach. What few unfriendly creatures she saw were easily run down in the low tide. While 'Slayers' were not the local bogeywomen of the monsters, she soon gained a new facet to her reputation. It only made her position in the neighborhood a little more secure.

It seemed that she wasn't alone in being 'known for something.' There were enough 'curiosities' around town that it took her awhile to make note of them all. At the beach, a man who looked like a fishing pole threw paint at an easel and attracted onlookers if not customers. Hookers slid pastel dresses up their thighs and danced slowly to entice and keep cool.

The police made little effort to curb the activities of the boardwalk 'regulars'. So long as there was no violence, they were allowed to do as they pleased. After having been closely scrutinized by the law for so long, Faith could appreciate their lax attitude.

She hadn't been actively looking for anyone in particular, as there were enough pretty and barely clothed tourists to keep her attention. It was just that she'd gone that route before.

It would have been easy to let herself fall in love, or at the very least, deeply in like with some of the well-shod residents who came from money enough to quiet any tongue. There was definitely a good selection to choose from, and she knew that those wanting to prove that they were dominant and desirable sought a ‘wild woman’ out.

Still, there was only so far that she would take those sorts of games with amateurs. It got boring to watch them try and control her, when really she wound up in skirt stockings, snapping the whip. And should it be brought to their attention that control was nowhere in their 'entertainments' then they turned nasty and she got bored.

Flushed cheeks paled and mouths hung dumbly open when she used their hired muscle to prove that in trying to take out their frustrations on her, they had made another enemy. She never stuck around after the initial property damage was concluded. Bones would mend, but pride was slower to heal.

So she watched the crowds. She liked to think that she was good at identifying people according to what they meant to her, personally. The small skill that came in handy when she was trying to avoid the fresh new Watchers out to provide 'support' in with such overwhelming eagerness that she felt as though they would break if she relaxed. They would have been better off learning from the example of the younger generation. Running around Verona were plenty of 'hard cases' to work with.

The children were only cute so long as they weren't put through a metal detector. Faith could see more damage in the street kids than some of the 'toughs' that posed on the sand. As they grew up they might learn to glam up their natures, but they would still be unpleasant to cross.

With all the new Slayers doing trials of 'Slaying 101: For the Unsure Beginner' it seemed that any member of the new Council that wanted to 'practice safely' had ample opportunities in such surroundings. Faith was more occupied with adjusting to all the new ground she had to cover and the necessary changes that went further than just relocating and relaxing. 

As the weather forecasts yielded unrelenting warmth she began to modify her wardrobe. Instead of leather pants, she succumbed to the comfort of capris and sandals. Filmy tops with exciting patterns pushed her only coat to the corner of her closet. She felt a bit insecure without heavy boots, but soon the soles of her feet toughened so that flip-flops could be abandoned in pursuit of a demon. Soon, pulling her hair up became less about fashion, but keeping cool, and she bought a clip painted like a seashell and twisted her hair into it. How those who thought they knew her would have stared to see the rebellious Slayer doing work and catching the last few rays of sun before her Calling interfered.

As for others who also seemed 'meant for the dark,' the lure of warmth brought them out earlier than usual. People with cloaks and robes strode around the boardwalk. It was as though the weather had no effect on them, or they felt that they were beyond such things. One in particular seemed immune to the opinions of others.

Most people would have ignored him, sour expression brought on by more than unrelenting heat, and the precise posture of someone who believed in *discipline.* If he'd been wearing tweed, Faith would have thought he was a bitter Watcher from the old regime. She discarded that theory when he shaded his eyes to see who had stopped in front of him to 'people watch'.

He stared at her, apparently waiting for her to speak. By not flirting or making remarks he'd become the most acceptable of the company she could have chosen. Glancing upwards, Faith took stock of the bright afternoon sun and then reaffirmed the fact that the man next to her was indeed wearing black.

"Why aren't you melting?"

"Magic," he said shortly.

"Huh." She gave him a more thorough look and noted that not only was he dressed like an example of old-fashioned formality, but that his hair fell around his face in a style that was obviously a result of not having the time for such things as 'unnecessary vanity.' "You know, if you wore something less wild, you wouldn't get so many weird looks."

"I am not unaccustomed to being the subject of idle speculation."

"No, I guess not." He didn't seem to be the type to care about gossip.

"They probably think you're a member of some cult."

"They would," he said contemptuously.

Faith gestured to a patch of sand. "You mind?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"Probably not."

"Then any objections I might raise would be pointless."

*
Hours passed and sun and horizon made a lazy meeting without the temperature dropping more than a degree or so. Faith opened her eyes to find that she'd not lost her companion.

Dark eyes flicked in her direction as she sat up. Without the sun blinding her she got a more thorough look at him. He was pale and looked as though very little didn't annoy him. That was quite a change from people who were only good terms with sunny days and cheerful young heroes. There was about him an undeniable *knowledgeable* quality. He spoke like someone who was unapologetically educated and confident in his abilities. That was appealing, there was little need in the world for acting diminished for the sake of 'fitting in. Some might have said that he was 'worn by the world,' but she saw angularity and successful adaptation to circumstances and as a fellow survivor, Faith could appreciate someone's ability to live through events.

She bounced to her feet with more force than was necessary. "See you around?"

"You will undoubtedly make certain of it."

The smile that she turned on him felt light and clean. "It's a date." Her exit was quick, but not so fast that she didn't appreciate that silence was within range of acceptance.

II.

It wasn't an 'arrangement,' that would have been too formal for 'often in the same place at almost the same time.' She didn't comment on the curious *punctuality* of their random meetings; bringing attention to something nice was, in her experience, the quickest way to make it disappear. Not that she didn't already have a problem with tact.

The morning a dozen large jelly fish washed onto the beach, he appeared as though the air had unsewn itself and let him through. He was more like an old photograph than ever; eyes hollows in his face. To be kind, he looked terrible.

Only after a good look at her own personal coping mechanisms from the inside out that she was able to admit her methods were certainly 'motivated by a deep-rooted need to hide vulnerabilities.' Why anyone did what he did was not a subject she had any real expertise in. Much like world history, she sought to *apply herself* and figure that out.

It was in the middle of a not-quite-doze that she spoke up. "I guess you know that I'm a Slayer."

She remembered swinging an arm around B's shoulders, the strength the blonde too often hid under delicately feminine outfits, as though by dressing like the girl she'd been, that same ease of life would find her. Shaking memory off was a good way to pretend that she wasn't missing someone that she hadn't gotten to keep. She'd noticed that he hadn't made a move to introduce himself.

Asking what a 'hedge witch' was didn't seem appropriate. "Yeah."

Buffy used to mouth off to *her* Englishman. Faith got the sense that this one wouldn't find it charming. "Sure, I mean, yes." She wasn’t used to going along with the admonishments of anyone not about to show her into their bedroom. And even then the final moments always ended with her on top. This was a situation she was less certain of.

Someone more interested in avoiding silence would have asked if she had any ambitions. At the moment, she was interested in finding out whatever he would tell her about himself. "What about you?"  

Whatever else he did, intimidation was somewhere near the top of the list, but Faith refused to let that warn her off and pressed on. "I mean, what's your name, where d'you hail from."

-end