A/N: for this story, there are two ways that a dhampir can be turned into a vampire. The first is if the dhampir drinks the life out of a human (see chapters 6-7 and 12-13). So technically the dhampir could drink just a little and not be changed, but he/she would have to be very careful not to go too far. The other way (at least in this story) is if a vampire turns the dhampir through the standard I-drink-your-blood-you-drink-mine process. Ok, on with the story!

Chapter 25: A Battle Fought

A repercussive shock wave of dark energy came coursing through the crumbling cavern, catching D in midair. He felt himself being flipped around, and lost all spatial references- which way was up? What direction was gravity pulling him? He couldn't tell. Something was happening all around him- some cataclysmic transformation was underway, rupturing the stone flesh of the mountain; destroying it with an unprecedented expenditure of energy. And D knew that all of it was his father's doing.

Suddenly light from the outside world flooded the space around him- it was nearly midnight, but of course the open sky was far brighter than the complete darkness that had been in the former underground sanctuary. D turned and glimpsed the stars, which seemed blindingly bright. But at least now he knew which way was up.

Sound returned next, first as a buzzing whisper, and then as a howl of wind, and D felt gravity return and exert itself- and a second later, he landed cat-like on the ground. What had happened? D took in his new surroundings with a quick glance. What had been the floor of the cavernous mausoleum was now the bottom of a massive bowl-like crater, with the open night sky above it. The walls and ceiling of the cavern were gone. All of that solid stone, hundreds of feet thick, had been vaporized. D recognized the line of the mountains on the horizon, and knew that he was approximately half a mile west of the castle.

Suddenly D sensed something behind him- he spun around, and found himself face to face with his father. He brought up his sword, but Dracula grabbed it by the hilt, and for a second they struggled against each other for control of the blade until at last the ancient king overwhelmed his son and sent him tumbling backwards. D recovered to his feet and held his position, prepared to attack, breathing in quiet gasps.

"You're weakened," Dracula observed in a low, almost cautious voice.

"So are you," D returned in the same tone.

Dracula smiled. "Very good," he said huskily, and his shoulders quivered. "Yes… once again, you found a way to make me use too much of my strength too quickly. I'm impressed. The dark power… you've already learned to control it. Tell me. What did it take for you to master such chaos?"

A cold wind stirred the dust at their feet. D heard a ripple of thunder in the distance. "Terror," D replied. "And hatred. I felt what all your victims have felt… and I realized… that I could fight back."

Dracula narrowed his eyes, studying D's calm expression, and then his gaze drifted to the sword in D's hand. "He didn't… my brother didn't make you his victim, did he?"

"He did," D said. Dracula clenched his fists, his expression wild and furious.

"That fool!" the vampire snarled. "Your blood belongs to me, you belong to me! I'll kill him for that. Oh, I shall kill him."

"He's already dead," D said emotionlessly.

"What?" for a second, Dracula looked surprised, though it didn't diminish his anger. "How?"

"Suicide."

Dracula laughed bitterly. The cold wind gusted stronger, and in his peripheral vision D detected a sinister mass of clouds creeping over the mountaintops. "Suicide! A noteworthy accomplishment, to be sure. He probably attempted self-crucifixion, fanatic that he was."

"No, he fell on his sword."

"I suppose that's a fitting death as well. It's a pity. I must say, he would have been extremely useful for my research. But what's done is done. There are other Nobles whose blood is nearly as pure as his. And, of course, there's you."

The air was getting noticeably cooler, but it was something in his father's voice that made D feel chilled. Distant lightning flickered above them in the night sky, and D attacked again. Two slashes in rapid succession, and the second met flesh, managing to knick the vampire's shoulder. Dracula covered the tiny wound with his hand, healing it instantly, and simultaneously cast a spell over D's sword so that the weapon froze in place. D tightened his grip on the hilt and pulled, but the sword wouldn't budge. Adapting instantly to the situation, D left the sword suspended supernaturally in the air and darted towards his father. Another wooden stake was already in his hand.

But Dracula had foreseen D's course of action, and the instant the dhampir released the sword, the ancient king called the weapon to his own hand. And so, just as D was barely within range of stabbing his father through the heart, he found himself facing the point of his own blade. Dracula ducked and lunged forward, smiling savagely.

The sword plunged into D just under the ribs, slicing cleanly through the soft tissue and organs there, finally bursting through the skin of his back, right beside his spine. Dracula automatically twisted the blade to its side, and with a single forceful jerk, he sawed through the knobby bones.

"kch!" A cry of pain lodged in D's throat as he collapsed forward across his father's shoulders. Dracula stood up, roughly shoving D off his back, and withdrew the sword. With his spine severed, D had no choice but to lie on the ground at his father's feet, desperately commanding himself to heal.

The Vampire King studied the length of the blade, letting a drop of D's blood fall from it and onto the tip of his finger. This drop of blood he raised before his face, studying it intently. "So much potential," he muttered, his ruby eyes gleaming with approval. "You are an extraordinary creature, my son. The envy of every dhampir… no-- the envy of every vampire."

D groaned quietly, and managed to press his right hand against the cruel slit across his stomach. The fabric of his shirt and coat there was already soaked with blood. Had his father drawn the sword out diagonally instead of horizontally, D knew he would probably be scooping up his guts at that moment. He winced and gritted his teeth as he felt his spine begin to reassemble. How many minutes would it be before he could move his legs? Dracula was smiling at him coldly. "Well now. Do you still think you're going to kill me?" D forced himself to look up at his father. The squall line was moving rapidly towards them, obscuring the stars as it rolled angrily across the sky. "Right now it's amusing to play this game with you," Dracula said smoothly. "But if you ever become a real threat, I will simply-" he vanished, and the sword fell to the earth. "-disappear." D reached for the abandoned sword as his father's voice echoed around him in the wind.

"I'll find you," D swore. "No matter where you hide, I will hunt you down."

Dracula reappeared, standing on the other side of D. He was still smiling, but now it seemed that an element of regret was etched into his features. "I believe you're serious about that," he said, narrowing his scarlet eyes. "And… as the years go by, you will become a great inconvenience to me."

Lightning cracked the sky. D's foot twitched- his recovery was almost complete. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword, preparing to attack the instant he was able, and not caring that his father was expecting it.

"I've made a decision," Dracula said, stepping closer. "I will not have you as my enemy." The heavy roar of thunder framed his words. "It is time… for you to see things from my point of view."

"I'd rather die than be turned," D told him gruffly.

"Nonsense," Dracula said, with a knowing smile. "You'll still be free to walk in the sun, you know. You'll still be able to live among the humans if you so desire. The only difference will be that you will agree with me about the future, and you will take your sustenance from human veins. That won't be so awful, will it? Half of you, the stronger half, already yearns for that appeasement. Why are you so afraid of it?"

Vivid branches of lightning flashed, and this time the corresponding peals of thunder were directly overhead. The ripping boom of the storm-torn heavens nearly drowned out D's soft reply. "Maybe because I don't want to be you."

Gnashing his teeth, Dracula fell on his son, pinning the dhampir's arms to the ground. D knew it was pointless to struggle but he tried anyway, and found that he could move not an inch. "You will thank me for this," the Vampire King hissed. As lightning lashed the roiling clouds, D saw his reflection in his father's glowing eyes, and saw exactly what he would become, if he ever became a vampire. He saw the frenzied, grotesque aggressiveness that warped his father's face. He saw the thirsty passion for killing in the shining scarlet eyes, and the long wolf-like fangs… he saw not the sophisticated, artistic, and romantic creature that a vampire could be when it maintained its composure. He saw what a vampire really was, beneath its arrogant pretenses: a monster.

No- he would NOT be made a vampire. His human side was his dominant side, after all, and it cried out for him to resist to the limit of his endurance. If some cold corner of his heart was tempted to succumb, he wasn't aware of it then. Propelled by a wave of that mysterious dark power, D's resolution buckled outward, followed by his final attempt at an attack- using every last ounce of physical and mental strength, D projected a blast of that destructive energy at the monster crouching over him, and would have surely ripped the evil creature apart, if at the last millisecond Dracula had not called on an identical power and projected it as both an offensive measure and a shield for himself.

Between father and son the two forces met once again, sizzling and crackling. The ground beneath D shuddered, and St. Elmo's fire danced madly in the air above Dracula. Each was trying to push the devastating layer of energy through the defenses of the other. D was fighting for his life, and for a full minute or more it seemed like he might have had a chance.

But at last his strength faltered. The turbulent sheet of dark energy sank through him, causing him to kick once or twice in pain as his nervous system, which had been almost fully restored, was violently disabled once again. Now he was unable to breathe, unable to blink- but he was still conscious, at least for the moment.

"There," his father muttered, sounding exhausted rather than triumphant. "You see? It will be over soon." The Vampire King took one last look into those dark blue eyes. "Go to sleep, D," he said, and reached out his hand to physically close D's eyelids, as if the dhampir were already dead. "I'll take care of everything," he muttered, his tone obviously intended to be reassuring.

Don't. D thought desperately, knowing his father could hear him. Don't. Don't. Please.

"I said go to sleep!"

…Please. It was the last thought D had before slipping into oblivion.

Dracula waited a moment for the echo of D's voice to fade from his mind. The boy was so strong, so worthy… the old king wanted to see D ruling the world at his side. Having him as an enemy would be inconvenient… but that wasn't the real reason that Dracula wanted to turn him.

In truth, seeing D exercising his free will over which nature he nourished and indulged… it was too painful a reminder of her, the one he had loved. Who had loved him… and their son. Why couldn't the boy understand that it was over? Her spirit lived on in him-- which wasn't right. D should have given in to his darker half by now, and her spirit should have been long gone and forgotten by the world. She was human, she was only a human! It infuriated him to see D the way he was, doomed to not belong, doomed to suffer… why? Was it really what she wanted? Was it really… what D wanted?

Suddenly he remembered something from when D was a little boy. Dracula had found D one day unconscious in the forest. Not far from their present location, actually. When little D woke up later that day, Dracula had given him a bit of a lecture. 'Your mother is dead,' he had told the boy. 'The choices open to us are to rot forever in misery or to take our rightful place in the world, as kings.' And the little blue-eyed boy had replied, 'I'd rather rot!'

Dracula smiled at the recollection, and gazed down at his unconscious son, considering a new possibility. "Perhaps that's the answer," he whispered aloud. "Perhaps that really is the only way to put her spirit to rest. Though it would be a wasteful shame to lose you… if it's what you want… it's what she'd want, too." He admired D's features for another moment, knowing it was the closest that he would ever come to looking in a mirror. "How ironic," he muttered. "You came here to kill me… but now I will kill you."

He raised his blood-colored eyes to the angry heavens, searching the thunderclouds. "So be it," he said after a final moment of consideration. He covered D's heart with his right hand, and lifted the other skyward. "I will end your suffering," he whispered.

From all directions, streaks of lightning converged in Dracula's outstretched hand, summoned there by his unspoken command. It was as if all the power of the storm had been sucked out of the sky all at once, and brought together at that one point- and the Vampire King directed the deadly current through his own body, down his right arm, and into D.

The rumbling thunder faded, and the wind calmed. The sky was completely overcast now, and the air seemed thick and impatient. Dracula studied the body of his son. There was no heartbeat anymore. The dhampir's blood was slowing, stopping, beginning to pool. He was dead. The ancient king waited a moment, almost respectfully, to allow the soul or the half-soul, if there was one, to wander free of the body and depart. Once he was sure that there was no lingering remnant of the boy's spirit, he leaned forward and slid one arm beneath D's shoulders.

Gracefully, the kneeling vampire cradled his dead son in his arms.

"What's done is done," Dracula repeated quietly. With a soft rushing sound, the rain broke from the clouds at last, pummeling the dusty ground in intense cascades. The world was immediately drenched. Like all his subjects, the ancient king hated the rain, but felt compelled to remain in reverence beside his fallen son for at least another moment…

"Thank god!" a raspy voice uttered, mere seconds after the rain began.

Instantly Dracula bared his fangs, his expression contorted in infernal rage. "What demon dares thank God in my presence?" he demanded. "Reveal yourself!"

The order was met by nothing more than the steady, deafening rush of the downpour. "You Must answer me!" the vampire's voice rumbled, more threatening than the thunder. "I command you to tell me your name!"

"I have none," the demon replied obediently, its tone somewhat taunting. The rain was pouring down with even more intensity. The water was already two inches deep at the base of the recently-formed crater, and rising with each passing second.

"Yet you speak," Dracula hissed, unable to identify the source of the voice. "What is your host?" his eyes focused on the sword still clutched in his son's right hand. Considering the weapon's former owner, it would make sense for it to be possessed. "Answer me!" the vampire barked. "What hosts your presence?"

"…Your… son," the demon replied painfully, as though the words were being torn out of it.

Dracula snarled, wolf-like, gnashing his teeth. "You dare to possess the dead body of my son? I will not allow it! I curse you back to the hell of your origin! Be gone!"

The demon snickered. "Is that really the best exorcism you can manage? Pathetic!"

"I say again," Dracula growled. "You may not use this body as your host. Get out, or be destroyed."

"I'm stayin' put," the demon declared, drinking as fast as it could to avoid being completely submerged in the ever-growing puddle of rainwater.

"Then I have no choice," the vampire said gravely, tortured by the rain. "I will spare his body from both demonic possession and the ugly ritual of decay." His scarlet eyes were cold as he laid his son back on the ground. Vaguely he recalled that water had been his enemy before there was light, and the torrential rain was preventing his power from replenishing itself normally- but it was Night, and nothing would stop the Vampire King from accomplishing that final violent task, that final service to his dead child. He reached out with one hand and covered D's face. He would call on the power he had used earlier to vaporize the mass of stone, and use it to tear D's lifeless body apart atom from atom.

Darkness itself flowed eagerly towards its King, accumulating around him in a swirling, convulsing ball, gaining density and magnitude. Dracula closed his eyes and sent that dark force tearing through D's body, starting with his skull down through every bone of his skeleton, racing from his heart through his arteries to all his veins and capillaries, suffusing every cell and fiber, in order to corrupt and dissolve everything on the molecular level. In the next instant, D's body would burst into less than dust- but just as that dark destructive power saturated him, in that very instant, it encountered an obstacle: another power, a generative power-- the ultimate magic, the purest condensation of energy, the force of life itself.

It happened in a flash. D was alive again. Reflexively, like the severed head of a serpent, his teeth snapped at whatever was hovering over his mouth, and caught his father's wrist, startling the vampire enough to disrupt his focus. And before either of them realized it, the sword still held fast in D's hand flashed upwards, and the blade buried itself in the ancient vampire's heart.

Dracula's scarlet eyes widened at the sight of his trapped wrist-- D's seldom-bared fangs had gone straight through the bones. D's dark eyes seemed devoid of any sign of either surprise or victory. Dracula met his gaze for the briefest instant, and disappeared.

Right away, D dropped the sword. It splashed into the accumulated rainwater. D rolled over onto his hands and knees, clenching his eyes shut, choking-- and he spat out a mouthful of his father's blood. Shakily he sat up, absently wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, staring at the blood as it slowly diffused into nothingness in the water.

Water! D realized with a start what must have happened. Everything had been so still and quiet for a minute, and for at least a minute after that, there was nothing. D was pretty sure that he had died. The demon in his hand had taken fire, air, and earth earlier, but had refused to tell D what it was planning. Once it managed to consume that fourth precious element, what had it done?

Weakly D turned his left hand over, holding it out of the water and looking down at it blankly. "Hey," D said after a minute, when the familiar ugly face didn't appear. "What did you do?"

No response. D frowned just slightly, his mind still racing over the recent events. Had he… won? Was his father gone? No… He'd been stabbed through the heart. But he hadn't collapsed into ashes and dust-- D knew for certain that Dracula had vanished under his own power. Gravely injured… but not dead, not yet. But with his underground sanctuary ruined, where would he hole up to heal?

D abandoned that train of thought as he realized that the demon in his hand hadn't replied. "Hey," he repeated gruffly, making his left hand into a fist a few times. Still, there was only the smooth surface of D's palm, the rain splattering against it. D rubbed the skin of his palm with the thumb of his other hand, right about where the beady black eyes were supposed to be-- that never failed to get the thing's attention. "I'm talking to you," D said, not at all accustomed to being ignored. "What happened?…"

Slowly D began to consider another possibility. What if, in the process of helping him, the demon had… gotten out? Or what if it had been overwhelmed, and destroyed?

"You… you saved me, didn't you?" D asked tentatively. Still no sign of the wrinkled face. What if the demon's very existence, with the help of those four elements, had been transmuted –or traded-- to bring D back to life? D wasn't sure what to think. If it was really gone...

D stared at the blank surface of his palm for a few more minutes. The rain had let up slightly, but was still pouring steadily from the midnight sky. That wrinkled, grinning face, the gruff but friendly voice that loved to tease and scold him… D hadn't even been able to thank it for what it had done. D's shoulders trembled gently. A moment or two passed, and D brought his left hand to rest in his lap so that the brim of his hat kept most of the rain from it. But when he closed his eyes and bent his head forward slightly, water trickled down his face and dripped onto his palm anyway.

"Gotcha! Buwahahahah!"

D tried to scowl but failed. "I knew you weren't gone," he muttered.

"Well I WAS knocked out for a little bit, actually. That was a hell of a close call. But, lo and behold, I woke up just in time to witness this amazing phenomenon--" the ugly little face grinned at him. "Saltwater rain! Imagine that!"

D smiled.

"What the…" the demon said, sounding genuinely disturbed. "Okay, now I'm scared. I could understand the tears of joy, when you thought you might actually have gotten rid of me, but now you're freaking me out."

"Thank you," D said quickly, before another second elapsed.

"For what, saving your ass? Heh! It's not like anybody else was going to get around to it, including you. You know how he actually finished you off? Lightning! He electrocuted you. But we can be sure that never happens again- I saw what he did and I'm sure that you can learn to do it too. But never mind that now- what do you think you're doing, sitting around sniveling like this-- Are you trying to take a bath in this puddle or something? We need to get back to the castle!"

D reached for his sword, and staggered to his feet.