Fiction- FaGC07- Gathering Storm01

Title: For A Good Cause

Chapter Title: Gathering Storm- Part One

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. Nor do I own any rights to other shows represented through the rest of this fictions. In the case of this chapter, I do not own Harry Potter, Labyrinth, or Supernatural. All shows belong to their respective owners. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: Various, up to R

Chapter Rating: PG- 13 for language.

Genre: Crossover

Type: BtVS/ Various

Pairing: Various

Summary: When threatened by an old foe not their own, how else can the combined forces of the Scoobies and the Fang Gang respond? By having an auction!

Spoilers/ Time line: This is post series for both Buffy and Angel. Other shows within the fiction will be discussed within each chapter that it pertains to.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This is a response to the Twisting the Hellmouth “The Bachelor/ Bachelorette Challenge. Please note that I have assigned the last name of Williams to Sarah and her family from “Labyrinth”. In my research, I couldn't find a last name listed for the movie protrayal. So that's what I went with.

For A Good Cause

Chapter Seven

Gathering Storm- Part One

“You wanted to see me Professor?” Harry Potter asked as he came into the large headmaster's study in the castle of Hogwarts. Starting his sixth year had already been an adventure. Professor Dumbledore had come by in the summer and recruited him to bring one of the old professor's out of retirement. It could only be Harry, who could bring about such a feat. At least in this instance, according to the current headmaster. But then, Harry was rather getting used to this sort of thing.

“Ah yes, Harry,” Dumbledore greeted, rising from behind his massive desk. His fingers caressed the head of his phoenix Fawkes, as he moved around to greet Harry. It was a lukewarm meeting, at least on Harry's part. And that was mostly due to Dumbledore's earlier announcement that as Professor Slughorn had returned and was taking up his prior post of Potions Master, Harry's arch nemesis, at least one of those currently residing within the castle, would take over Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Severus Snape.

Harry tried to calm himself once more. Reminding himself that Dumbledore had never told him that Slughorn would be the new DADA teacher. Just that he had taught potions before. It was his own assumptions that led to the erroneous thinking.

“You still worry over my decision to put Severus in such a position?” Dumbledore questioned gently, able to read the truth and more on Harry's face. Harry didn't bother to duck his head in embarrassment. It was very clear to any and all that Snape despised Harry. And it was just as clear that Albus Dumbledore had faith in the man that many, not just Harry, felt he did not deserve.

“I suppose I reckon you have your reasons,” he replied steadily. Dumbledore smiled gently and clapped his student on the shoulder lightly.

“I do indeed Harry,” he nodded importantly. “But that is not why I called you here this evening. I've had something of an interesting correspondence and I should like your opinion on it.”

“Correspondence?” Harry asked, feeling a thrum of excitement at the slight mystery of it. Could this be the beginning of what Dumbledore had alluded to over the summer?

“Yes,” his headmaster nodded and gestured to the desk. “Have a seat, please.”

They busied themselves for a moment, getting comfortable, Dumbledore in his seat and Harry in one of the chairs before the desk. Leaning forward, he accepted what looked like an invitation. He glanced over it and saw that it was for a fund raising effort in the form of a bachelor/ bachelorette auction. He was vaguely aware of them, his Uncle Vernon having talked of one he had attended through Grunning's, the business that he worked at. But this, it was being hosted in America. And Dumbledore's name, embossed in gold, with a (plus guest) beside it, seemed genuine, but...

“Is this a joke sir?” Harry asked with a modicum of disbelief.

“Not at all Harry,” Dumbledore grinned. He leaned forward to gesture at the paper in Harry's hand. “Generally knowledge of this is kept until you begin your secondary training. In particular, as an apprentice to the Auror division, you would learn more about the different groups around the world. You do realize Harry, don't you, that the magical world is not limited to Europe.”

Harry did flush a little that time. He did know that. After all, they had talked about the Salem witch trials in America. His best friend Ron had visited the eldest Weasley, Bill, when he had been working in Egypt. He set the invitation on the desk and then sat back, waiting now to hear what Dumbledore wanted to tell him.

“Not all of the secret magical sects run their worlds as we do here Harry,” Dumbledore warned. “In fact, those putting on this auction are not even considered a part of our magical world. But we have, in times past, put our differences aside to aide one another when need warrants. I believe this may be such a time.”

“So this is really a call for help,” Harry surmised, looking at the simple colored sheet with new eyes. Dumbledore nodded.

“Of course, the manner in which they are reaching out tells me that it will be a simple trade,” Dumbledore sighed. And then smiled ruefully. “It can be difficult to trust outsiders. Thus a fair trade agreement, such as we would enter here in a charity auction set, is the simplest form of a magical contract we can enter.”

“Buy one of their auctionees for their fund raiser and they'll help us?” Harry decided. It didn't sound so bad. There were questions, of course, but Dumbledore seemed as always, to know a little more than he was willing to tell Harry. But he had long ago decided to put his trust in the man. So he pasted on a bright smile and leaned forward.

“Will we be required to wear our dress robes?” he wondered aloud.

FaGC~FaGC

“Honestly Sarah! This is the third school that you've dropped out of,” Mrs. Williams the second complained. She was exasperated, obviously and glanced to her husband, including him in her ire as he simply continued to eat his dinner.

“It's not that bad,” Sarah winced, unable to meet her step-mother's eyes. Because what the woman said was the truth. The first college, after high school, was one she had enrolled in at her father and his wife's behest. There she could study anything she wanted, be anything she wanted. But what she wanted, was something that they weren't exactly approving of. It had taken two years, a lot of foundering and her guidance counselor sitting her down for a serious talk.

She had finally taken steps to put her future in her hands. There was no dramatic arts department in that school. And that, despite turning her back on the theatrics of her teen years, mostly in effort to let go of trying to keep her mother's image alive in her mind, was what she really wanted to pursue. So against their wishes, she had found herself applying for several different schools and having to work dead end jobs to save enough money for another full schedule.

Her father hadn't been pleased, but when she had been accepted, after a year on the waiting list, he had signed the check for her enrollment tuition and wished her the best. Sarah had moved out to the east coast and thought she'd never look back.

But then, someone had found a copy of that play. That damn play! It always came back to it. She hadn't noticed at first, the shadows and the chills that she wrote off to stage lighting, or the unseasonably cool weather. And then it worsened, following her home to the tiny shoe box apartment she had rented. And then the gifts had started showing up. It took her some time to put it together. And when she had confided in one of the friends that she had made, not who it was, but that someone seemed to be stalking her, said friend had told her to go to the police.

Like the police could handle Jareth, King of the Goblins. The one person she knew of that could make people disappear on a whim. Without a trace.

But the stalking had escalated quickly. He was everywhere, though Sarah quickly understood that no one else could see him. Through rehearsals, costume fittings, then on to the opening night of the play that she had refused the lead female role for. He was there, in the actor that had been chosen for the role of Jareth, smirking and leering at her.

But no one else saw it.

She'd been barely able to hold it together and after that opening night, she was amazed she still could say she was sane.

She dropped out of the program the very next day, packed her bags, what she could manage and boarded a bus heading for the west coast.

To say that her father had been displeased was an understatement. When she had tried to explain the stress she had been under, the horror of a person stalking her, her father had been practical. He too had asked after making a report to the police and had sighed with regret that she hadn't. Instead, her step-mother had suggested that maybe Sarah should talk to a psychiatrist. She had rebelled against that, since she wasn't crazy. At least not as someone in her position would be. Yes, she completely understood that the underworld was not a place that anyone in her world was aware of. The whole episode could very well have been just in her mind. Toby, her step brother being stolen away when he was barely a year old. Going to the labyrinth to rescue him. Refusing the king of the Goblins in his bid to make her his queen.

Just because it might be in her head, didn't make it any less real.

She had found no peace, enrolling in a new school. Again working as a hopeful young waitress in the land of golden sun. She had been all right the first few months. Despite dropping out, she was good enough in her auditions to secure a place in the next semester of school. She had talked to the school about transferring credits, money, anything she could do to take the burden off her father.

But then it had started all up again. And it hadn't taken the invocation of Jareth's name to bring him there. Sarah knew then that it was her. And it was him and this time, he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

She had run again. But this time, when the imaginings in her mind had taken real form, Sarah had tried to fight back. She wasn't particularly good at it, never having had the need to learn how to throw a punch. But the green skinned, red horned demon wearing a fedora and trench coat had been so obvious in following her that she had to try something.

“Whoa there chica,” it had chuckled when her attempted right cross missed the mark. That could be and most likely was, from the thing ducking back out of the way of her fist. “I'm just trying to help. Kind of my mission at the moment.”

“I don't need any help from you!” she had snarled back. “Or from Jareth. Tell that pig of the goblins to leave me alone!”

“Say what now?” the thing had demanded, it's voice going soft and well... kind of flat and spooky. She had raised her fists to defend herself, should the need arise again and tensed when the demon, because it didn't look like any of the small goblins she remembered... Although, maybe some of them had green skin? It reached it's hand into it's pocket and withdrew just... a card. The thing flipped it around and held it up so that she could see it.

Angel Investigations she read. No case too strange for us. And then, in a scrolling script under that, Lorne Greene.

“Is that supposed to be you?” she demanded with a huff, not quite relaxing.

“Sure is peach pie,” the thing had chuckled. “And I can see that you might be needing the kind of help I can give.”

“It's a trap!” she had half shouted at him, her mind reeling.

“No baby cakes, it's not,” the thing had told her, his face, his entire body very sober.

Sarah came back to herself as she listened to her step mother's exhortions to her father to say something and the mild argument they held. It had taken her quite a while to trust Lorne. To realize that when he wanted her to sing, it wasn't some practical joke and that his understanding of the situation wasn't because Jareth had sent him. He knew things that it was impossible for Jareth to know. Things from her childhood that were so deep in her mind, she didn't even remember until Lorne had said.

And then he had warned her that Jareth, the bastard was going to take things to the next level. He was going to threaten Toby again. And Sarah needed to take a stand and put a stop to it. He had told her to go home, to wait for his missive because Lorne, her green skinned savior was going to get her the help she needed and send her word when it was going down.

So she had come home to break the news to her father and step mother. She leaned on the table and now looked across to Toby. The twelve year old boy was picking at his dinner. Which was typical. His mother insisted on serving food at dinner that was more appropriate for a dinner party than a growing boy's appetite would crave. He glanced up from under his hooded lids and gave her a small smile. Toby had been her hugest admirer as he grew up, believing that his big sister Sarah could do anything. He loved that she always had time for him. He loved that he could call her whenever he had problems, whether it was fitting in at school, being left yet again with another babysitter, and even most recently, his burgeoning interest in girls.

“Toby,” she spoke quietly, warmly, cutting across the bickering going on over their heads. “Could you please excuse us for a few minutes?” The boy didn't even bother to look to his parents for their approval or permission. He just nodded, slipped out of his chair, came around the table to give her a hug and an encouraging word and then the next they heard were his footsteps pounding up the stairs.

“Well!” her step mother began, her lips white and her face taking on that pinched, angry look. Which was only slightly different from her pinched face, disappointed look. Or any of her looks for that matter.

“I didn't think it appropriate for Toby to hear this right now,” Sarah defended instantly. “But the truth of the matter is, that I've realized that there are still a lot of unresolved issues from my teen years. Things that I thought I was over. But I'm not.” The words weren't difficult to get out, because right now, it was just another role she was playing. And it was working, as both adults glanced at one another and then at her, looking worried. To allay their fears, she went on with the plan that Lorne had helped her cook up.

“Sarah,” he father sighed and leaned forward.

“I've talked to someone,” she continued. “A professional. He believes that he can help me with these issues. He's just taken up a post in Cleveland, Ohio and he's invited me to get treatment there.”

“Oh my God!” Mrs. Williams exclaimed, her hand to her chest. “An insane asylum?”

“No,” Sarah forced a chuckle. “It's very much an out patient setting. They have a halfway house that I can live in, so I needn't worry about finding a place to live, as yet. And I've already got the money for the first three months.”

“A halfway house,” Mrs. Williams repeated, now rocking slightly in her chair. “:Oh what's become of you Sarah?”

“Dear,” her father chuckled dryly. “A halfway house is simply a part of placement therapy that allows the patient to function within the real world while still having therapy to deal with issues that arise in their treatment. Isn't that correct?” he asked of his daughter.

Sarah nodded. “I'm not being committed. Dr. Greene simply feels that I need time away from the pressures that I've put on myself,” she was being very careful not to blame anyone here, “to get a handle on dealing with life. With depression when it comes, or grieving. I haven't dealt with these things properly and that's what he wants to help me with.”

“Grieving?” his father asked, looking older now than hiss actual years. “This is about your mother?”

Sarah felt her heart clench, hating having to do this to him. She nodded slowly. “The things that happened at school? It wasn't so much external as it was internal. Dr. Greene has helped me see that. And I want to get better dad. I know that losing mom will always hurt. But I didn't deal with it well. You both know this. And I want to be better. I want to be sane and whole. Your daughter and a big sister to Toby. I want to have a wonderful life that's not anchored in past pain.”

There was silence for a long moment and then, surprisingly, it was her step mother who was nodding.

“Sarah dear,” she murmured, “that's all we ever wanted for you. So tell me, when will you be leaving and what can I do to help?”

Some people, Sarah knew right then, would have thought that Mrs. Williams was being mercenary. Looking forward to getting the problem child out of her life in an acceptable manner. But she wasn't. She was being strong for her family's sake. Because one of the things that Sarah had been able to accept after the first incident with Jareth, all those years ago? Was that she really did love the family that she and Mr. Williams had created. And that family included Sarah.

FaGC~FaGC

“What's up Bobby?” Sam Winchester asked, as he leaned forward in the chair he had chosen in what could loosely be called Bobby Singer's living room. It had long ago ceased to be such and was more of just another area that Bobby did his research at. Books on demon lore, hunting procedures, Latin rituals, pretty much a cornucopia of everything one needed to know about hunting, their kind of hunting that was, was probably in there.

He noted that his brother, Dean, was watching Bobby just as closely. He couldn't blame him because Dean, ever the fool for his family, had sacrificed himself for Sam. Literally, not figuratively The deal that Dean had made with a crossroads demon, to give his life up in one year, to bring Sam back from the dead was the worse sort of the trait that his elder brother had had drilled into him by their father over the decades. And it was this deadline that was closing in on them, near choking with it's desperation to find the solution.

Sam just couldn't allow his brother to die in his stead. He just couldn't.

“Yeah, what's up?” Dean demanded gruffly. He had been extremely erratic over the last few months, which was understandable.

Bobby, for his part, as much as he bemoaned their 'idjit' status, loved the boys as if they were his own. He had been working himself to the bone, as Sam had, to find a workable solution and it showed in his face. Dean of course, had refused to get involved in their search, because one of the little devils in that deal, was that if he were to somehow manage to renege, Sam went right back to the state Dean's rashness had saved him from.

“You boys've been following up every lead you've come across,” Bobby pointed out heavily, throwing down a file folder that he had compiled. Sam and Dean didn't know whether or not to reach for it. Usually if they waited, Bobby would just tell them. He was impatient that way. “I know Bela was gonna sell the Colt,” he added and there was a flurry of restrained excitement.

The Colt .45, a very specially made revolver, by Samuel Colt himself, a demon hunter in his day, surprisingly, might very well be the only thing that could save Dean. Yet, it had been stolen by black market item procurer, Bela Talbot. They'd been trying to track her to retrieve the weapon, to use to save Dean. Thus far they'd had no luck.

“You found her?” Dean demanded heavily, waiting for the word so as to jump out of his seat and into his beloved Impala to start tracking the bitch and get some of his own back.

“Not so much as in an actual location,” Bobby grimaced, running one finger over a very tired eye. “But I've got a pretty good idea where she's gonna be.”

“And where's that?” Sam wondered. He knew that his brother was itching to get moving. But information, knowing what they were facing and going into ahead of time was a good thing.

“Did you find out who she's trying to sell it to?” Dean asked at the same time.

Bobby shook his head slightly. “Look, I don't have any way of knowin' for sure, unless we're actually there. Now listen!” he held his hands up to forestall their arguments that he knew were coming before they could even open their mouths. “Word out is that Bela is on the move. She's heading inland. Ohio, from what I can tell. There's gonna be a big to do that she's attending.”

“Ah crap,” Sam groaned, remembering the last time they had partnered up with Bela, including a black tie affair in which he had shilled out his body as a date for a very oversexed octogenarian while Dean and Bela pulled off their heist. It was not one of his better memories. Not one of the worst, but given their line of work, it was a strange grab bag.

“What does that have to do with us?” Dean wondered, glancing at his brother with a smirk. He was obviously remembering as well.

“Well seeing's how these are the big players in the game,” Bobby began and Dean started visibly again. “Sit yer ass down Dean,” Bobby growled. “Not demons. At least none I know about. No, I'm talking Bela's world. The kind of people that buy her crap, the artifacts and spells. They're gathering for something and this might be your chance.”

“Damn right it is,” Dean exhaled, his jaw clenched and a vein pulsing in his temple. Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, then exchanged glances with Bobby. Dean was certainly getting worked up over this. It was kind of... nice to see that he was affected. “So where, when and what kind of security?” he wanted to know.

“Cleveland, Ohio,” Bobby supplied. “Soon, and more than you'd think.”

The Winchester boys exchanged minimal glances, ones they didn't really need. Working together, as they had been taught, trained, they could accomplish almost anything. If it wasn't happening immediately, then that meant they had time to plan. And having a plan was better than going in half assed.

“Okay, so let's get down to the nitty gritty,” Sam straightened in his seat and tried scooting it closer to the desk. “What kind of details do you have Bobby?”

“I didn't think I'd need any,” Bobby sneered, though they could see that it wasn't directed at them. He reached for an envelope on the desk and threw it towards Sam. The youngest male's eyes widened as he took in the fancy script.

“Dean and Sam Winchester,” he read and his eyes flicked up to Bobby. “Care of Robert Singer.” That caught Dean's attention and he leaned towards his brother to catch the corner of the envelope between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes flicked to their surrogate father.

“You opened it?” it was more of a statement than a question, but Bobby still answered it as such.

“Hell yes I did boy,” Bobby growled, looking petulant. “My name is on it too and did you really think I would sit on my ass while you got here to see what the hell this is?” He gestured to the invitation, then added, “I got the information on Bela before that showed up. I checked it out. It's the real deal. This whole thing is just a front for the wheelin' and dealin' that's gonna be going on.”

Both of the Winchester's read the information on the card several times before Sam glanced up again. “And you think Bela will definitely be there?” Bobby nodded slowly and Dean sprawled back in his chair.

“You got anything to drink Bobby?” the elder brother demanded with a slight whine. “Not looking forward to breakin' out the monkey suit again.”

Chapter Eight- Gathering Storm02