A/N: Parts of this chapter are adapted from Ch 32 of GoF.
Chapter Ten: Innocent Blood
The dark woman took a step forward and called out. "My Lord, you have company."
"Indeed," Voldemort said. Dawn grabbed Harry's shoulder to pull him to his feet, hoping to make a run for it. She glanced over in the Dark Lord's direction, only to find both Voldemort and Willow staring at them. The cloak was useless. "Bellatrix, I doubt they'll be needing that anymore."
The woman, Bellatrix, grabbed the edge of the Invisibility Cloak and yanked it off the pair. Harry, who had been kneeling on the end of it, lost his balance – as the cloak was pulled away, Harry tumbled to the side and took Dawn with him. She lost her grip on her wand as she fell onto her backside, and it rolled out of reach.
"Hello, children," Voldemort said pleasantly. "I'm so glad you could be joining us."
Harry scrambled for his wand, but Bellatrix was faster. She kicked it into the corner of the room and pulled Harry to his feet by his shoulders, a vicious grin on her face. "Potter, how long has it been? Only a summer? I wonder how my dear cousin is enjoying his new living arrangements? Or... perhaps living isn't the right word..."
"I'll kill you," Harry hissed. "One day, when you're not watching, I'll be waiting there, and I'll kill you."
"Well, maybe he's not as far from the Dark Side as you thought, Master Yoda," Willow joked. Voldemort looked vaguely irritated – he obviously hadn't a clue what the Muggleborn witch was talking about – but the remark made Harry appear more offended. Willow then stooped to put a hand on Dawn's shoulders. An electric jolt of filth rolled down Dawn's spine. The other witch's eyes were ringed in an ominous black. "Hello, Dawnie. Are you here to help me rescue Buffy?"
Dawn shot to her feet and stepped back. Bellatrix, Harry in hand, blocked her escape, but anything was better than Willow's dark taint touching her. "Leave Buffy alone!" she begged. "She's dead. She's gone. Let her rest, where she doesn't have to fight anymore!"
"But she's still needed," Willow said. She cocked her head to the side. "Don't you see, Dawnie? There are monsters left to fight – monsters like Dumbledore, who wants to keep magic confined to those he feels are good enough for him to teach. Or monsters like the Minister of Magic, who passes laws to prevent witches like us from helping the rest of the world to prosper through magic. They're the real monsters, you know, the ones who keep what we know from benefiting the normal people. The muggles."
"That's not true," Harry shouted. "Dumbledore isn't like that, he's -" Bellatrix cut him off by clamping a hand over his mouth. Dawn caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and inched to the side – Bellatrix followed.
Dawn shook her head. "Harry's right. Maybe the Minister's a monster, I don't know. He's done some stupid things. But the Minister hasn't had people murdered, so far as I know! He isn't talking about getting one of his lackeys to cut off his foot, or his nose, or whatever!"
Voldemort gave a loud snort, and started to say something, but Willow cut him off. "Dawnie, sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. There's a Hellmouth in Dublin, you know. A Slayer is needed to protect it, and all we have is a newbie, whomever Faith's death Called... All I need is a little help, kiddo." Rather than irritated, Voldemort looked proud. Willow had picked up whatever he'd been feeding her, to the letter.
"She'll be a zombie," Dawn argued, falling back on whatever words she had left. Unfortunately, Voldemort seemed to have done an impeccable job of brainwashing Willow – the problems she was bringing up with the magical world were real problems, things Dawn had wondered too. She never thought she'd be getting answers from the devil. "A zombie Slayer is no good to anyone. She'd be slow... dangerous... she could get herself Turned, and then we'd have a Slayer who was actually a vampire, and what a mess that would -"
"She won't be a zombie," Voldemort said, coming to stand beside Willow. "Don't you trust your friend, here? She's an incredibly powerful witch."
Dawn bit back a sob. "She's tainted! Can't you feel it? Anything she creates will be Dark!" But why would such a thing matter to the Dark Lord himself?
"Magic isn't evil, Dawn. It's a tool. I'm going to use it to help Buffy... and thus, I'm doing something good. You're going to help me, whether you consent or not." Willow peered at her. "You're not Buffy's enemy, right? You're the innocent blood?"
She froze. In her mind's eye, she again relived the moment on the tower, as the Doc slashed her midsection, as the first drops of her blood sent a shockwave through the air – as her sister dove into the fissure and her life closed it. Dawn turned and tried to make a break for it. Her blood was powerful, and terrible enough to bring hell on earth.
But escape wasn't to be – other Death Eaters were filing into the room, and one masked man grabbed her and dragged her forward. "Thank you, Iscariot," Voldemort said. "She's a key component of this whole process..." He chuckled softly and turned to Willow. "The key component. And here I go, making puns again."
Willow let out a giggle. "Clever... but where's the enemy, Tom? Whose blood will craft her body?"
"I'm so glad you asked." Voldemort offered his arm, and Willow took it. Dawn shuddered as the man, Iscariot, dragged her aside. She noticed Bellatrix doing the same thing, parting with Harry to make a corridor through the small throng of Death Eaters – perhaps ten of them.
Dawn wondered, for an impatient moment, who it would be. One of Glory's minions? Some demon that had gotten away? Hadn't Buffy taken care of most of her loose ends?
She couldn't suppress her agonized wail, and her struggle to escape Iscariot's grasp, as Spike was led through the mass by two masked men. His hands were chained, as were his feet, and one of the Death Eaters led him by a chained cuff around his neck. He looked like hell – his pronounced cheekbones were even more apparent, and his eyes were sunken in, as though he hadn't fed in weeks. Their eyes met, for a brief moment, and in them Dawn was unable to find even the merest trace of hope. Spike opened his mouth to speak, but the leading Death Eater tugged on the chain and cut him off.
Willow turned to look at Voldemort. "What a fine surprise... but there's only one problem. Spike isn't her enemy. Spike's in love with her."
"He's a vampire," Voldemort said. "He has no soul, not like you and I. He has no capacity for love. What he has is an obsession. Were that ingenious Muggle device to be removed from his brain, he would revert to the hunter he truly is. The Slayer would once more become his prey, as she always has been. In this form, the pitiful vampire who thinks he loves the Slayer, this enemy can do the most damage. He can destroy her from within."
Willow cocked her head to the side, again, and examined Spike closely. He stared at his feet blankly. "You're right," she said, setting her hand on Voldemort's arm. "Of course you're right. His blood, what's left of it, should do just the trick."
Voldemort smiled. "Then let's begin, luv. One retainer should stay... you, Flint. Iscariot, Bellatrix, I'd like to to remain as well. The rest of you, patrol the perimeter, and have Lucius bring Severus up... We're expecting more company, and I won't like it if we're disturbed."
The Death Eaters filed out, and the last one shut the door. And so they were left, two students and one weakened vampire against three minions, a Dark Lord, and a Dark Witch. Dawn wasn't fond of the odds. Harry had been right – running in half-cocked couldn't have been a worse idea.
"Well, then," Voldemort said. "Shall we begin?"
------
Dawn's arms were bound in front of her, and Bellatrix Lestrange was making very sure that she wasn't moving. Iscariot had become Harry's guard – and Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of the whole situation. He'd been bound but, beyond being stashed on the sideline under Iscariot's cold gaze, Voldemort seemed to be taking no notice of his young nemesis.
Instead, it put Harry in the perfect place to watch the unfolding events. As he sat uncomfortably, the Dark Witch drew a pentacle circumscribed by a circle on the marble floor of the throne room. She set her tools around her – a gleaming white bone, a jar, and a long, jagged dagger. Into the circle, she directed the remaining retainer to bring a long, topless box, which was filled with liquid of some sort.
As it sloshed against the sides of the box, Harry was hit with a memory – the graveyard, where Cedric died. He was tied to a headstone, and Wormtail brought forward a cauldron full of liquid. In it was placed the terrible, child-like form of the Dark Lord. Willow held a hand out over the container. "Heat." Within a moment, the surface of the liquid sparked with energy.
Harry thought he knew what should come next – in the graveyard, it had been Voldemort's hairless body. This time, however, Willow stepped out of the circle and lifted a small, glowing ball from a case on the table. "It's her soul, Dawnie," Willow said. She smiled over at Voldemort, fauning. "Tom did the stinky herbs."
"Go on, pet, we've a deadline to make," Voldemort said. He'd taken up a position on his throne, his black robe pooling to the floor.
Without another word, Willow crossed back into the circle and released the glowing orb into the box. Rather than sinking straight to the bottom, it was suspended halfway, ignoring all laws of physics. "I'm ready. Where's the servant?"
"Lucius?" Voldemort called. "It's time! Bring him in!"
Harry glanced back, wanting desperately to see what had happened to the Potions professor – however, as the door opened, only Lucius Malfoy was there. "Snape is gone," Malfoy reported. He crossed the room at a dash and threw himself at Voldemort's feet. "Someone Polyjuiced the guard into Severus' shape. He's been gone at least an hour."
"You have failed me," Voldemort hissed. Harry thought he could see around the Dark Lord's glamour – his face took on a vaguely snakelike quality and his eyes were tinged with red. "I asked you to keep a prisoner secure! Just a simple request!"
"I will recapture him, my Lord. Let me do something – anything – to prove myself!" Malfoy grovelled.
Voldemort glanced over at Willow, and the witch shrugged. "He's as good as any," she said.
"Then prove your loyalty, Lucius. Step into the circle. Take the chain and lead the vampire." Voldemort leaned back, and the serpentine qualities were gone. "Do whatever she asks. Her orders are mine, tonight."
Malfoy rose to his feet, then bowed deeply. Without so much as a sound, he picked up the chain attatched to the cuff around the pale blonde man's neck and dragged him into the circle. The man – vampire, Harry supposed – gave no resistance. Dawn let out a whimper, and Bellatrix jerked her bonds until she was quiet.
Willow smiled, then, and lifted the bone from the ground. She extended her other hand over the long box. In Harry's mind, Wormtail chanted most of the words along with her. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your daughter!" She dropped the bone into the container, and the surface of the water spat sparks.
Grabbing the dagger, Willow rose and pulled Lucius next to the low box. He held out his hand, and she set the edge of the knife against his little finger. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, already knowing what was to come. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will serve your master's bidding." Malfoy let out a cry, which was followed by a sickening plop.
When Harry opened his eyes, Lucius Malfoy had his right hand wrapped in his cloak. He'd backed to the edge of the circle, and was grimacing in pain. The potion in the container was a harsh, burning red.
Then, she forced the vampire to his knees beside the box. She grabbed the manacles binding his wrists and extended both his arms over the container. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." Harry winced as Willow sliced down the side of the vampire's right arm. Though red began to flow, the vampire didn't seem to feel the pain at all. He stared forward, dazed.
The moment the first drop of blood fell into the box, the liquid became a blinding white. The vampire collapsed to the side, and Willow stepped back, covering her eyes. Harry immediately closed his, but the radiance of the magic was so blindingly bright that the light seemed to burn through his eyelids.
Finally, it tapered off. Harry peered into the steam, expecting to see a terrible figure standing before them, waiting to be robed. After all, that was what had happened to Voldemort. Instead, as the smoke cleared, he saw the still, nude form of a woman lying in the box.
He finally realized what the box reminded him of. It was a coffin. The body inside was perfectly formed, not like the horrible, misshappen shell that Voldemort had taken on, but was just a body. Lifeless. Dead.
Maybe, it had gone wrong.
------
Dawn tried not to cry, but the tears were flowing down her cheeks anyway. Laid out, as she had been only a few short months earlier, was Buffy's body. In one, small part of her brain, she wondered whether the tears were of joy – after all, the thing Dawn wanted most was to have her sister back. But no, not like this.
Willow shoved Malfoy out of the circle, and the retainer, Flint, dragged Spike out and left him lying just outside of the circle's edge. Spike wasn't moving – but that wasn't surprising, since he didn't breathe. He wasn't dust, though, so that meant he was still alive. She was afraid to ask what happened next.
Dawn didn't have long to wait, though. Willow left the circle and grabbed Dawn by the bound wrists, pulling her to her feet. "Your turn, Dawnie."
She heard Harry yelling something, behind her, but her world became the black orbs that were Willow's eyes.
"Come, now. I'm only taking blood." Dawn fell to her knees beside the coffin. Willow was busy. She set up a black candle at each point of the pentacle, then lit each one. Finally, the urn in one hand and the jagged dagger in the other, she sat beside Dawn. "Hold still. It'll only hurt for a minute."
It was just as painful, just as terrible as the moment on the tower. Dawn's blood dripped into the urn from her wrist, and Willow, eager to be finished, left it bleeding as she sat back. "Osiris! God of the Underworld, I beseech you! Give us back the warrior of the people! Let her cross over!"
The chant continued. Dawn was only half aware of it, as she tried to cradle her arm to her body. Her blood was dripping, a torrent, staining the marble floor. A shadow loomed over her, and Dawn looked up to see Willow. The witch poured the contents of the urn slowly over Buffy's body. "Let her cross over!" A swirl of colour rolled over the body, starting from her toes. A stream slipped up her nose and between her lips, another rustled through her hair. A terrible crackling filled the room, the sound of electricity at enormous levels.
And then Dawn noticed. Buffy's chest was moving.
Her eyes flickered open.
All hell broke loose.