Title: Sleep to Dream
Author: Jinni (druscilla@cox.net)

Rated: PG13

Pairing: W/Severus Snape

Genre: BtVS/HP Crossover Fanfic

Disclaimer: All things BtVS/AtS belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, and/or whomever else may be currently claiming responsibility for them. The wonderful world of Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling. The song “Sleep to Dream” is performed by Fiona Apple.

Distribution: FF.Net, A Witch’s Love, NHA, Bite Me Please, WLS, Aislin, Serena, and any others who have permission to archive my HP/BtVS Crossover fics. If you aren’t one of those people, you must ask first. I do not take this lightly!!!

Summary: Just a quick little fic that was floating through my head, banging around until I agreed to write it.



~*~*~


”I’ve got my feet on the ground and I don’t go to sleep to dream.”

– Fiona Apple ‘Sleep to Dream’


~*~*~

She was there.

With him.

By his side, as she had been over the past year.

His red haired angel.

Severus kept the thought, the very notion of her to himself, his dark eyes focused only on the man, no - creature, that was speaking at the front of the rickety old house he had chosen for that night's meeting. He could hear the droning intonation of his Lord's voice, rolling over him much as he imagined the scales of a thousand serpents would feel if they slid abrasively across his bare flesh, chafing and harsh. It was far from being a pleasant voice or something that he wanted to continue hearing.

Very, very, far.

But she was there, holding his hand, though not in a literal way. She shimmered out of the corner of his eye, as incorporeal as always. The robe she wore was much like the one that he would see students at his school wear, the color a dark green that set off the flames of her Weasley-esque hair. Her skin was pale and unflawed, as if painted by an artist’s brush. Like a ghost she came to him, drifting in and out of his life at the moments he needed her most.

Like now.

"Severus, come forward."

The Potions Master took a deep breath and stepped forward, schooling his features into a mask of unfeeling, uncaring. He wouldn't show emotion to this man, this abominable creature. He wouldn't give him that luxury even if it meant --

"You've been a very bad boy, Severus." The hissing, more reptilian than human, voice whispered. It was for the Professor's ears only, but still spoken loud enough for those of the inner circle to hear it. They hid their smiles well. Especially Lucius, Severus noted, who managed to look both contrite and like a cat that just got into the cream at the same time.


"My Lord?" Severus Snape asked, his voice low, eyes to the ground as he sank to his knees in obeisance. He knew just by the tone of the Dark Lord's voice that this was going to be bad.



But he didn’t realize just how bad until the next words left his ‘Master’s’ mouth.

"You've been playing both sides of the fence." Voldemort continued, walking forward to tower over the still-kneeling man. His robes swept the dusty floor of the shanty, managing not to pick up dirt as he moved.

"Spying for that fool Dumbledore." The Dark Lord continued. "And still acting to my face and the face of your brethren like you are a Death Eater and loyal to our cause." There was pure disgust in the Dark Wizard's voice. It was the tone of voice that he had only heard his Master use before when speaking of dirty things, such as Muggles or Muggle born witches and wizards. This was pure, unbridled hatred; and it was centering itself around Severus Snape, coiling around his body like the snake the Dark Lord resembled.

But still his angel stood beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. She was tense, worried for his safety no doubt. No one else could see her. She was, as far as he knew, only a figment of his imagination; though they had ‘spoken’ before. Not in person. Never in person. Only through these dreamlike visitations that she lavished upon him like the previous angel she was. He didn't ask her about the life she lived, or did not live, outside of being his own personal savior. She was a gift from God, one he didn't deserve yet clung to out of a sense of selfishness. Certainly a beauty such as her had works of mercy to perform for others - yet she stayed with him.

Always with him.

The first bout of the Cruciatus curse hit him, sending his body into spasms of unbelievable pain; the muscles cramping and jerking as they were pulled and pushed, torn and stretched. It was excruciating. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, tasting the tangy coppery slickness of blood as it began to drip into his mouth, sliding over his tongue. There was a whisper of air over his body, rustling the hairs that had fallen into his face so lightly that he doubted anyone would mistake it for anything other than randomness as he writhed in agony on the floor.

But it was far more than that.

The light breeze brought with it the strange healing numbness that his angel was blessed with giving. It couldn't take away all the pain of the Cruciatus, but it was still something. A small relief. He felt her hands kneading at his muscles and wondered how she could be there, unseen, unheard, and still manage to touch him in a very real fashion. Anyone else would just pass right through her. Except for him. He was different, special.



At least to her, he was.



The next round of Cruciatus set loose his fragile control and he screamed, the sound echoing horribly through the small shack of a house. He could hear the tittering around him, the whispering laughs of the other Death Eaters, and he knew Lucius was one of them. If he lived through this he’d find a way to make Lucius pay.



Horribly.



“It’ll be okay.” His angel whispered, her hand rubbing at his cheek. She knew as well as he did that she didn’t dare do anything to give away her presence. It already looked as though he might have outlived his usefulness, the Dark Lord finding out he had a genuine angel on his side wouldn’t do anything to stop that. And she couldn’t even touch the others. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do to help him other than try to ease his pain, just as she was now with her touch and her whispery, breathy words.



“How does it feel, Severus?” Voldemort sneered, his more reptilian than human face screwed tight with righteous anger. “You were one of my best. How does it feel to fall from my grace? Traitor!”



The word was echoed through the ranks of the Death Eaters, falling from the lips of both the young and old.



“It feels good, My Lord.” Severus spat through bouts of pain and torment. “Good to know that I did what was –right-!”



It went on like that for hours. Pain followed by dialogue. Taunts followed by wracking, excruciating torment that would cripple his muscles and limbs. And each time he thought he couldn’t go on, she was there, holding him as best she could, giving what little words of release she could find within her to spare him. They both knew this was going badly. He could see it in her crystal green eyes, so much like raw emeralds, each time she brought her healing gaze to him. She knew as well as he did that this was The End.



“No.” She whispered suddenly, as the latest round of torture was receding. Her eyes weren’t on him, but on the man approaching. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, his former Master and leader of the Death Eaters. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. And all those other fancy names that had been given to the dark wizard by both himself and others out of fear and awe. He turned his dark eyes to that creature now, feeling his heart and last remaining hope sink.



A knife.



Voldemort had a knife.



“Dear Goddess.” His angel sobbed, her eyes wide with tears. He thought he saw her tilt her head to the heavens in entreaty before the knife came down, cutting like molten steel into his flesh. Over and over again.



“Don’t let him die, my Lady.” She was whispering and he knew tears were coming down those porcelain cheeks he had come to love in the last year.



Love, he thought with his last shred of consciousness. This was what it was like to love. It felt good.



It was too bad that it came too late.



~*~*~



Willow jerked herself forcibly from her dream, tears still pouring from her eyes. She looked frantically around the room, flooding it with light in a wave of her hand. He was still alive. She would have known if he died. And those Death Eater people had taken him somewhere. A forest.



They left him to die.



But he wasn’t dead –yet-.



She stumbled from the bed, breaking through the last tatters of sleep that were hanging from her head like cobwebs. She had to go, had to find him. Had to contact someone and help them find Severus. The location was etched firmly in her mind, like a blinking red dot on a map of a country she had hardly seen before, much less ever been to.



A sob tore from her throat as she remembered what she had seen. Him lying there, battered and bloody. The forest was far away from that school he had told her more than once that he taught at. Thank goodness he had felt that he could confide in her. Thank the Goddess for his loose tongue on all those nights when she had let him pour his heart out to her.



Thank the Goddess for her bond with him, too. A bond he didn’t even know about, though if he really thought about it he should have been able to guess, or at least research what he knew into definitive knowledge. He thought her to be some random ‘angel’, though, sent from the heavens to help him in his own path of atonement.



He wasn’t that far from wrong.



The bond that she had with the Potions Master was an ancient one of retribution that she had willingly entered into in order to atone for the sins she had committed both against Warren and the world. It was a pact between herself and the deity she chose to worship. It was now her life’s mission now to help him in whatever way possible. And, for the last year, she had done that in the capacity of being his healer, his friend, a confidant and protector in times of need. She had, ever so slowly, lost her heart to this man that she had only spoken to in the odd nature of their bond, through dreams that let her walk with him in his own normal world, unseen to any other than himself.



But now he needed her as something else entirely.



He needed her to be his rescuer.



She pulled clothes at random from her closet, trusting her instincts to pack what she would need for the journey she needed to make. She knew where she needed to go, had always known where to find Severus if she needed to. But the opportunity to do so had never arisen.



Until now.



The witch fumbled for her bedside phone, stashing the last of her magical accoutrements into her bag along with her clothing.  A quick spell while she waited for someone to answer solved the problem of her still being in her nightdress, the tasteful jeans and hunter green sweater looking good on her.



“Anya?” Willow breathed, stifling her sobs. “I need your help.”



“Willow?” The vengeance demon muttered groggily. “Do you know what time it is?”



“Yes, yes.” The red head shushed her. “I know. This is an emergency, though. I need your help.”



“What do you need?” The clear sound of Anya’s voice and the lack of irritation indicated that Willow had managed to impress upon her the importance of the situation.



“I need to get to Hogwarts, An.”



She heard the other girl sigh and felt her heart sink in worry. What if this was something not even Anya, with all her connections, could do for her? There wasn’t any time for hesitation or error. Not enough time for her to catch flights across the country and then across the Atlantic, as well. No time to try to find a school that she had never been to before, had only heard about as a matter of conversation with Severus and in passing talk with Anya once. She bit her lower lip, waiting for Anya to tell her there was no way to get her there quickly.



And then.



“Damn – you never ask for the easy stuff, do you? I’ll be there to get you in fifteen minutes.”



~*~*~



The office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts was something unlike anything Willow could have been expecting. She had, she admitted, been thinking of the entire school as nothing more than a special boarding school.



How far could she have been from wrong?



Take the Headmaster and his office, for example. The room itself was filled with junk and paperwork, items that she was sure held some sort of significance for the elderly-looking wizard, even though they looked like bits of nothing to her. It was cluttered and unorganized. Definitely nothing like a normal Headmaster’s office would be.



Not to mention the fact that it was in a castle.



An actual made of stone castle.



Yeah, Severus definitely forgot to mention that one.



And the thing about the pictures that talked and moved?



She was going to have to have words with him about telling her the *interesting* things from now on.



Provided she could get to him in time.



“You are his Angel, I presume?”



Willow laughed, the sound bordering on hysteria.



“Does he call me that to others? His angel? I thought it was just a little nickname he had between me and him.” She smiled kindly at his nod. “I feel so loved. And embarrassed. Definitely embarrassed.”



“Never doubt that he cherishes you unlike anything he has ever had, my dear.” The Headmaster continued. “Though, I do believe he thinks you to be something that his deranged mind has come up with of its own accord. I seriously doubt that he knows you are an actual, living person.”



“Guess he’s going to be in for a shock.” Willow muttered. But that just brought back her worries and urgency. Through the miracles of the demon world she had managed to make it to a spot right outside of the gates to Hogwarts within only an hour of waking from her last contact with Severus. The thought of him drove pains of grief through her stomach. She needed to get to him, before it became too late.



“Please, Headmaster.” She began, standing up and pacing. “I need your help to get to him. I can see the place in my head, but it makes no sense. And I wouldn’t know how to get there, anyway. My witchcraft, you’ll find, leaves a lot to be desired.”



“So says the woman who has been single handedly walking the dream paths for over a year.” Dumbledore chuckled. “Calm down, my dear. Sit. Have a lemon drop.” He offered her the small bowl of candies, holding it out until she took one in her shaking hands. “I am merely waiting on a few members of my staff to make themselves ready and then we shall be about getting to Severus.”



Willow nodded, still feeling the sense of urgency in her body. She felt tight, strung too far and too thin. If Severus died she didn’t know what would personally happen to her own self.



But it was more than that; more than a sense of self preservation.



She didn’t want him to die.



She cared for him.



And, judging by the compassionate look on Dumbledore’s face, he realized exactly that. She blushed under his kindly gaze, knowing how it must feel to have someone look into her soul.



Behind her, the door of the Headmaster’s office opened and closed. Willow turned in time to see an older witch rush in, her entire state of dress crying that she had just been pulled from bed by Dumbledore’s summons. There was another man with her and, though he looked tired and his robes were bordering on shabby, he looked considerably more put together than the witch with him did. The two newcomers regarded her evenly, with open curiosity tempered with the worry they, too, were feeling for their colleague.



“Now, Willow.” Dumbledore murmured, flicking his wand at the wall where an intricate map of the surrounding area appeared. “Let’s try to pinpoint where my Potions Master is, shall we?”



~*~*~



Apparition, Willow discovered, was the technical name for that little teleporting trick she had done back when she was on her rampage. Though, she didn’t quite remember feeling so twisted up inside when it was all over and done with.



She flashed Dumbledore a grateful smile, her eyes scanning the dark woods.



“He should be here. Somewhere close.” She muttered, casting out with her heart along the bond she shared with the wizard. At this range, if they truly were close to him, she should be able to trace him with ease.



She hoped, anyway.



She followed the silvery link between them, her eyes half-closed even as her feet took her running into the woods, leaving behind Dumbledore as he waited for the woman, McGonagall, and the other Professor, Lupin, to arrive with the school nurse.



She was running so hard, concentrating so mightily, that she nearly stumbled over the object of her grief in her haste to find him.



~*~*~



Severus felt pain. It was hot and cold at the same time, warmth warring with chill for a hold on his clammy skin. Surely death would be coming to claim him soon. He could hope, anyway. Anything to end this perpetual pain. And maybe his angel would be waiting on the other side for him. Wizards were a hearty bunch, but not immortal. There was no way this could continue on indefinitely. He felt something shove into his side and gave an involuntary moan of pain, his eyes cracking open.



And there she was.



Again.



His angel.



“Angel…” He whispered, his voice hoarse and dry.



“Shhh.” She whispered. There were tears glistening on her face. He tried to reach up, to wipe them away, but he didn’t have the strength. It took too much effort to just stay alive at this point. His angel had found him. He just needed to tell her --



“Don’t move.” She commanded, her voice cracking with the sadness he could only hope was for him.



“I love you.” He croaked. “Thank you for being there. For helping – me – “



His eyes closed, darkness overriding what little conscious thought he was till capable.



He could die happy, now. He had seen her one last time.



But why was she screaming for Poppy?



~*~*~



Willow sat by Severus’ bed, holding onto his hand. He was just as handsome in person, despite his injuries, as he had been in her dreams. She brushed a stray piece of hair from his face, holding the silky strand in her hand before letting it fall to the pillow.



Two days had gone by since they had brought him back to Hogwarts. Two days of waiting and praying that he would wake up. They had done everything in their power to bring him out of the coma he had fallen into, but nothing was working. Her own reserves were failing fast. She hadn’t slept a wink since they had brought him back.



Wait.



Sleep.



“That’s it.” She murmured, hoping that her sudden flash of insight was more than just her mind’s devious way of trying to trick her into getting some rest. She laid her head down on the bed next to him and shut her eyes, silently hoping that sleep would claim her quickly and that the paths to his mind would still be open to her. She yawned once, relaxing as best she could.


Within moments she was asleep.



~*~*~



“Sev?”



“Willow?”



The red head blushed. He had said her name. In the year they had known each other, he had always insisted on calling her by some sweet endearing term, never by her name. And now that he had said it, the word sounded so much sweeter than anything he had ever deigned to call her.



“You need to wake up, Severus.” She murmured, sitting next to him on the log that he had fashioned in his dream world. They were next to a slow river, more of a trickle through a densely wooded forest. It was beautiful. She could see why he would choose to sit here rather than face the ‘real world’. Especially when that ‘real world’ was full of evil creatures like Voldemort.



The Great He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.


Also known as Let-Us-Cower-In-Fear-And-Give-Him-Power-By-Doing-Just-That.



Was he on her shit list?



Oh yeah.



But she would deal with him at a later date. It could be a part of her whole ‘helping Severus Snape’ road to redemption.



Even if it *was* more of a retribution/revenge kick that she had in mind.



“Wake up?” The Potions Master looked bemused at the idea. “How can I wake up from being dead?”



Willow shook her head, a gentle smile touching her lips.



“You’re definitely not dead, my dear. You are currently lying on a bed in Hogwarts infirmary. Poppy has done just about everything she can and still you won’t wake up. You are a stubborn, stubborn man.”



“I – lived?” His tone was incredulous, the look on his face disbelieving. “But – the knife. Cruciatus –“



Willow silenced him with a finger to his lips, her eyebrow quirked in amusement.



“Have I ever lied to you before?”



~*~*~



Willow snapped awake her eyes flying open as the man on the bed began to move, shifting uncomfortably. She reached for his hand, squeezing it in gentle reassurance, waiting for some sign, any sign, that he was actually going to wake up this time.



“C’mon, Sev. Come back to me.”



“Will-ow?”



A sob of pure happiness escaped her mouth, followed quickly by a thousand-watt smile.



“Open your eyes and see for yourself.”



His eyes *did* open then, wandering around the room before coming to focus on her.



“Willow?”



“Yes, yes.” She sniffled. Her hand was patting the bed next to his hand, as if she were afraid to actually touch him now that he was awake. “We’ve already been over that. I’m here, you’re here. Neither of us is dead or in a coma.”



“You’re here?”



She chuckled.



“It would appear that way, yes. Seems I’m not the actual angel you always thought I was. Just an ordinary woman. Well, witch.”



“You saved me.” It wasn’t a question; just a statement of fact.


Willow hung her head, blushing.



“I guess. Not like I didn’t have help or anything. Your Headmaster and that McGonagall woman. Someone named Lupin. They all went with me to look for you. They helped me get to you in time.”



“Why?”



“Why?” The word came out sharper than Willow had intended. “Why wouldn’t I save you, you silly man? We’ve been friends for over a year, now. Did you really think I would let you die?”



Tears were flowing from her eyes; her voice had taken on a hysterical measure that she couldn’t hide.



“And –“ She sniffled, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand.



Severus waited patiently for all of a moment before prompting her. He was too tired for these guessing games, too tired to try to even wrap his mind around the fact that she was actually sitting here, in front of him, more substantial than he had ever seen her before. She was a living, breathing woman. She wasn’t some type of angel.



Just a normal, beautiful, woman.



“And?” He prompted gently.



“And I love you.” She sighed. “Stupid of me, I know. This is the first time we’ve ever really met and all. And you’re all dignified and oh so British and I’m just some little American witch who hasn’t even ever had any formal training. Then there’s the age thing. Not that I care, because I don’t. But you probably care -- ”



Severus leaned back into his pillow, closing his eyes. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She babbled. His Angel babbled. Definitely not some perfect divine being. It was, in a way, nice to know that. Gave him reason to believe that he might actually stand a chance with her.



“I love you, too, Willow.”



“ – And we come from different cultures. I’m still in college; did I ever tell you that? Sunnydale Community College to be exact. Majoring in computers. And –“



She paused, her heart racing as her eyes darted frantically from his dark eyes, barely slitted open, to his lips and then back again to his ever unreadable eyes. She licked her lips, shaking her head in amazement.



“You love me?”



“I believe that is what I said.” He smirked, closing his eyes once again.



So he was completely unprepared when her lips came crashing down on his, pushing aside all pretenses of gentleness or innocence. He stiffened. This was the first true human contact of the loving or sexual nature that he had been privy to in more years than he wished to give name to. But, slowly, under her probing, insistent kisses, her tongue licking delicately at his lips, begging for entrance; slowly he began to give in.



And when he gave in it was like a dam breaking, setting loose the waters of his heart.



“I should get Poppy.” Willow whispered, pulling away before she showed this man in the bed exactly what he meant to her with every inch of her body.



“You should most definitely not.” His grasp on her wrist when he reached for her was weak and Willow shook her head.



“You silly man.” Her tone was soft, her touch just as gentle when she removed his hand from her wrist. “She’s going to make you all better so that we can continue getting to know each other.”



The lift of her eyebrows and the way she spoke of ‘getting to know each other’ indicated like nothing else that she wanted to do more than just ‘talking’ as they made their acquaintance of each other.



Severus allowed a brief smile to flit across his tired lips. She was amazing.



In more ways than one.



A true angel.



~*~*~



*A Month Later*



Willow set her books on the desk, her eyes glittering with thinly veiled amusement as she thought of what was about to happen.



She was going to –teach-.



And not just any class, either.


She was going to be the Assistant Professor to the single most feared Professor in all of Hogwarts history outside of maybe Salazar Slytherin herself.



Or, at least, that’s what Professor Sprout had told her during one of their ‘girly talks’. No, she hadn’t told her that she would be an Assistant. She had merely informed the naïve red head about the Potion Master’s notoriety amongst the students. The Herbology teacher had told her about the awful things that were said, about the way Severus acted, and then she had clapped a hand over her mouth, as if startled that she had said such things in front of the man’s very fiancé.



But Willow had taken it all in good stride.



In fact, she was looking forward to playing the part of his all-too-evil Assistant. It would be a game. Evil Willow during the day – passionate, loving, angel-esque Willow at night.



She looked up as the door opened, her fiancée storming in. His robes billowed around him like the wings of some sort of great, dark bird. She arched one delicately formed eyebrow at him, her face a mask of stony coldness.



“Waiting long?”



“Too long.” She snapped. Only the sparkle in her eyes gave notice to the playful nature of her comment.



“You’re enjoying this.” He raised an eyebrow of his own at her.



Willow laughed, letting down her mask for just a moment.



“Of course. I was always the good girl, too kindhearted. Well, except for that whole Warren killing, addicted to dark magic, trying to end the world thing.” Her voice broke at the end; her eyes glittering with unshed tears.



“You still miss her, don’t you?” It was Severus’ turn to show his coldest, most unemotional face. He had known since the beginning of their actual, real life, time together that she had left the Light in



Willow nodded, still managing to give him the most reassuring smile she could.



“I will always love her, Severus. But that part of my life is over and I’ve moved on.”



“To me?”



“Of course, you silly, silly wizard!” She shook her head, bemused. “You’d think that being as powerful and oh-so-great as you are you’d have a little more self-esteem.”



It was him that leaned in to kiss her, a brusingly powerful display of affection that left her panting with swollen lips, when he pulled away. The sounds of students in the hallway outside the door stopped any further chance for intimacy and Willow flashed him a playful smile before turning to glare at the door.



She heard Severus chuckle and knew he had done the same thing, right before the first student walked in. She watched the girl visibly pale and gulp at the sight of them, arms crossed, dressed to the T in black robes, their expressions severe. The student scurried to her seat; head down and Willow bit back a smile as the door opened, the scene to be repeated over and over again as the class slowly began to fill up.



This was going to be fun.



~*~The End~*~