Chapter Eleven: The Blood is the Life

While the room crackled with electricity, Harry finally noticed that Iscariot was no longer watching him. Instead, the Death Eater was staring at the Dark Witch and the body in the center of the room, his face set in something akin to horror. Harry didn't take the time to wonder why – he worked his hands out of the loose ropes that bound his wrists and made a dash for the door.

That was enough to catch Iscariot's attention. The Death Eater lunged, taking Harry out at the knees. Harry fell, crying out as his head hit the floor with an audible crack.

Iscariot Lestrange flipped Harry's body over, and Harry caught a glimpse of Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort hovering over him, though the room lurched sickeningly. "The boy has become a liability," Voldemort said. "I should've taken care of him already, but he's proved himself to be immune to the Killing Curse once..."

"Let me do it, my Lord," Iscariot said, from around Harry's feet. The man stood and dragged Harry to his feet – Harry gagged, trying desperately not to vomit as the room spun. He'd hit his head harder than he thought. "I'll do it without magic."

Voldemort nodded. "On with it. Bellatrix, my new Slayer needs a robe."

Bellatrix bowed deeply and left the room. As the door closed, Voldemort turned back to watch the preceedings. Harry had a single glance of Dawn weeping next to the coffin before Iscariot shoved him up against the wall and held out a knife.

"Don't forget to scream," Iscariot said, the knife hovering above Harry's throat. And then, Iscariot grinned and winked. Harry heard Dawn's cry, and the blade hit his skin.

-----

When the first spurt of red hit the wall, Dawn screamed with all the breath left in her body. She stumbled toward the edge of the circle, still cradling her arm, but Willow's grip stopped her. Past the hem of Willow's robe, Dawn watched Iscariot back away from Harry.

Harry had his hand to his throat. He tumbled forward, onto his face, as red stained the floor. Dawn turned away.

"Well, I'm sure the Ministry didn't see that one coming," Voldemort said, a vicious smile on his face. "And I thought he was the one who was supposed to murder me."

"Simple solutions are the best," Willow agreed. Her hands, locked around Dawn's shoulders, were stained red. "Tom, would you help Buffy up? Give her your robe until Bellatrix is back? She looks cold."

Voldemort stripped off his top layer wordlessly and knelt next to the coffin. Dawn finally looked at Buffy – she was blinking widely, arms crossed over her chest. Though Dawn hadn't noticed at first, it seemed as though the liquid from the spell had evaporated. "What's going on?" Buffy asked. Her voice cracked, and she sat up, curling around herself to protect her modesty.

The Dark Lord draped his robe over her shoulders and pulled it closed in the front, in a remarkably gentle motion. "You're alive," he said. "Willow has been working for months to save you."

"It's cold here. So cold..." Buffy blinked, and looked around. "Did I win?"

"You won," Willow said. "See? You saved Dawnie." She dragged Dawn forward. Dawn, unable to stop herself, burst into another round of tears.

Voldemort helped Buffy to her feet, and helped her pull the robe on. Buffy's eyes were fixed firmly on Dawn – she stumbled out of the coffin and fell to her knees beside Dawn, dragging the girl into her arms. Dawn found she was unable to speak – the horrors she'd survived were too terrible for words, and Harry's body still lay behind her. "You're bleeding," Buffy said. She looked at Dawn's hands more closely. "You're tied up. Willow -"

"She was afraid we were going to hurt you, that you'd come back wrong, but you're alright! See, Dawnie, Buffy's alive. She's alright." Willow untied the ropes – her eyes were green, again, Dawn noticed. Her hair, however, was stained entirely black. The combination made her look eerily like Voldemort.

Dawn threw her arms around Buffy and held her, listening to her heart beating.

She had only that moment – Voldemort stepped across the empty coffin and pulled Buffy to her feet. As Buffy was led away, Dawn thought she saw a glint of silver at Voldemort's waist "Come, Slayer. The world needs you. Your time isn't over."

"My Lord!" came Flint's cry, from behind the group. Dawn had forgotten about him entirely. As she turned, another sound filled the air.

"Avada Kedavra!" A green light shot through the air, and hit Flint in the chest. Flint crumpled.

Iscariot had his wand pointed at the group. "Let her go. Let my daughter go." And then the edges of Iscariot's hair started to change color. The shape of his face wavered until, only a moment later, it was Rupert Giles standing there, in a Death Eater cloak. "Let my Slayer go, or I'll kill the witch."

His wand was trained on Willow.

------

The hum of Dark Magic flowing through his veins was a rush, a high. He hadn't felt so good since he left the Dark Lord's service, afraid of what it was doing to his soul. Giles tried to shake it off – tried to tell himself that killing Flint had been necessary – but he wondered if he'd ever get the stain off of his conscience.

In a shuffle, the scene changed: Voldemort pulled Buffy back against him, a glint of silver flashing in his hand. "I will kill your Slayer," the Dark Lord said. "A trade. Your Slayer for my witch." He appeared to be wandless – not weaponless, though. At Buffy's throat was a knife.

Buffy didn't seem to be afraid, only confused.

"Stop it!" Dawn screamed. She reached for Voldemort's robe, tucked around Buffy, but the Dark Lord dragged the Slayer out of her sister's reach. Dawn pivoted, staring at Giles. "Dad! Stop, you'll kill her!"

Giles took a step forward, but stopped as Buffy gasped. Voldemort had pricked her throat with his dagger, to show his seriousness. "You will not use her as a weapon for evil," Giles whispered, "no matter what it takes. No deal."

"You killed Harry... you're going to kill Willow and Buffy... Giles... DAD, why?!" Dawn let out a sob.

There wasn't time to explain. "Dawn, get out of the circle. I won't lose you, too."

"But Buffy..." Though protesting, Dawn crawled out of the way.

"Buffy is supposed to be dead." He choked. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with her. She was confused, yes, but who wouldn't be? She was there, in the flesh, living and breathing... and if she died again, it would be his fault. Another death on his conscience. "Voldemort, this is the last chance I'm giving you. Let the Slayer go, or the witch dies... and so do you."

The Dark Lord grinned, and his eyes glinted red. "You can't kill me. There's a prophecy. Only Potter can do it... and you've managed to take him out of the picture very nicely."

------

"No, I'm perfectly fine," Harry said, trying not to gloat. His wand in hand, slipped to him when Mr. Giles pretended to kill him, Harry vaulted to his feet. The fake blood on his neck was starting to fade – the transfiguration would only last for so long – and he figured waiting any later to make his move would end in someone's death. "Petrificus totalis!" Harry cried. At the same moment, Giles and Willow fired off spells – Willow's hit Giles in the arm, but Mr. Giles' struck Willow, and she went down, stunned.

Voldemort was faster than Harry. He lunged out of the way, and managed to evade the path of the curse. However, the movement had an unintended side effect – in his haste to avoid harm, the knife slid across the Slayer's throat.

Blood gushed. Dawn screamed.

Voldemort dropped the knife and made a run for it, into the adjoining room. Harry watched, frozen, as the Slayer's body lurched to the side and, without Voldemort's support, went crashing toward the floor. In the split second following, Harry didn't know what to do: follow Voldemort, and try to stop him, or try to help Dawn's sister?

Harry didn't get to make a decision. Before the body reached the floor, the blonde vampire caught her. Despite the appearance of weakness, the vampire curled around the Slayer's body. He lowered his head toward her bleeding throat.

"Spike!" Mr. Giles roared. He staggered to his feet at the edge of Harry's vision, wounded arm a mass of blood, and stumbled toward the pair. "Leave her alone!" Harry crossed to help Mr. Giles, finally realizing what was happening – the vampire was finishing Voldemort's job.

And then the vampire looked up. His face was hideously formed, inhuman, and red stained his lips. He smiled. "Relax, Watcher. It's under control."

Mr. Giles went for his wand... and stopped. When Harry looked back at the Slayer's body, he noticed she was looking around, touching her neck, and staring at Spike. "What did you just do?" she asked.

"He closed the wound," Giles said. "Vampires... their saliva, it's a coagulant... God, Spike, I'm sorry..."

Spike shrugged and proceeded to ignore Mr. Giles. "I had to save you, pet," he said to the Slayer. "I could never watch you die again."

Finally, Dawn managed to react. She hugged her sister and the vampire, sobbing the whole time, then limped across the room to Harry and pulled him into a hug. "I thought you were dead!" she wailed. "I couldn't stand it!"

"Fake blood," Harry explained. "Your dad transfigured it. It's all fake. I'm fine."

Dawn reached over and pulled Mr. Giles into the hug, too. "I should kill you both for doing that!"

When the door burst open, none of them were ready for a battle... but there was no need for it. Remus Lupin slipped in, accompanied by half a dozen Aurors. "Where's Voldemort?" he demanded.

"Gone," Harry admitted. "But we're all okay."

"Not okay," Mr. Giles said. "Not all of us." He pulled out of Dawn's hug, after giving her a kiss on the forehead, and crossed the room to kneel at the Dark Witch's side. "We're not okay, but we will be." He gently touched the girl's hair. Then, standing again, he turned to face Lupin. "I want to take my girls home," he said.

No one argued.