Warnings: Almost Character death
Disclaimer: BtVS is owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemies. Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. I am only playing with them for no profit and will return them to their respective owners unharmed.
Buffy Walked down the hospital corridors, scrunching her nose slightly at the sterilized smell. She hated hospitals, she always had, and even if this hospital was different than those she was used to, she still wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave. She would stay though, Dawn needed her now that their mother was gone. She slowly slipped into the room where her sister lay in a white bed, unconscious. As she walked to the bed to sit in the chair a beam of moonlight hit dawn's face, making her pale face and the numerous scars she had recently received, glow in an unearthly way.
Buffy had never felt so tired before, so old and so useless, as in that moment, watching her sister's still form, wondering if she would ever open her eyes, ever smile again. The doctors, or healers as they were called here, where uncertain of her sister's recovery. Oh, they tried to hide their worry but she could see it lurking in the corners of their eyes, the hunching of their shoulders the way they never seemed to be able to look her straight in the eyes.
She remembered how her sister had gained her injuries, the fear she had felt when she saw her fall to the ground. She remembered calling out her name, telling her to get up, to open her eyes, to move. And she remembered how the dread had slowly overwhelmed her senses, how her blood had turned cold and her breath had caught in her throat as Dawn, her little Dawnie had failed to get up, to open her eyes, to move.
Good how she hated this world, this stupid little world and its stupid war and its stupid, idiotic, useless magic that could kill a man with two words and a wand but utterly failed to help her sister. So what if Dawn had sustained brain damage from the curse that death eater had thrown at her, what kind of name was that anyway? Death eater, they weren't even cannibals! So what if her left leg had been severed by the Dark Lord, Volleyball or whatever his name was. She never could remember his name, she knew it was something stupid, something ridiculous because they had all joked about it a lifetime ago, in the magic shop.
But that was before. Before the fight, before the blood and the terror. Before Dawn was hit and refused to open her eyes or live, just be alive. Anything but lying there in a stupid bed in an idiotic hospital, saint mongoose or something, in a useless world. Oh she was still breathing with the help of spells, but Buffy was the slayer and she knew the difference between being alive and being dead. Dawn might still breathe as she lay pale, riddled with thick silvery scars from the top of her head to her legs, no leg it was leg now. One leg not two. And when Buffy looked at her sister she saw death.
Buffy wished she had never heard of the wizarding world, had never caught the owl and read the letter, asking for help, wished with all her heart that she had just killed that stupid bird, or refused to help the old man with the strangely twinkling eyes. Wished she had never heard of Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, burdened with a destiny so much like her own that she couldn't help but agree with their plans. Be their ally, fight in a war that was never meant to be hers in the first place.
They had won, of course they had won. They were the good guy and the good guys always won, but the prize had been too high, much too high. She remembered a conversation from years before. Glory had been their big bad back then and she had told Giles she would kill anyone who came for Dawn. That she would let the world end and the last thing Dawn would see was her protecting her, not because she was the Key, because she was her sister, because the same blood flowed in her veins. Summers blood. She would have given her everything, her last drop of blood just to see those eyes open again, to see that smile. God how she hated this world.