Disclaimer: The Dresden Files is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

Summary: The story begins in Chapter 35 of Grave Peril, where the world diverges from the one you know...

Chapter 03 - Graver Perils

I love you.

There's power in those words.

Three small words. And yet somehow they manage to encompass all of our hopes and fears, our needs and wants, our dreams and desires. Everything that we are, everything we've been, everything we could be, all given freely to another with just three simple words. With those three words, you offer up your heart and soul to someone, with no guarantee of anything in return.

Maybe that's why I didn't say them.

Maybe I wasn't ready.

I knew that I loved Susan Rodriguez. I loved her as much as I'd loved anyone in my short life. I'd loved my mother, despite having never met her. I'd loved my father, despite having only a short time together before his passing. I'd loved the girl that had been my first everything. I'd loved the man that had taken me in, and become my second father.

I'd loved plenty in my life. That part is easy.

The hard part comes when those you love fail you. As they will, time after time. You'll give your heart to others, and they'll hand it back in pieces. A mother will set a child up for failure even before he's born. A father will leave a child alone and penniless, and at the mercy of the world. A lover will betray everything you had. A surrogate father will try to break you.

When giving your love to others has done nothing but bring you misery, you'll find that giving it again is not so easy.

You'll be tempted, of course. You'll tell yourself that it couldn't happen; you can't have your heart broken again.

But there's a dark corner of your mind that whispers to you. Warns you. Calls you a fool for believing that anyone would ever really, truly love you.

In that moment, I listened to the dark corner of my mind, instead of listening to my heart.

Maybe I should have listened to Michael. Maybe I should have told Susan that I loved her.

Maybe that would have made all the difference in the world.

In the basement of Bianca's mansion, as Susan pressed her teeth against the flesh of my neck, I thought of saying those three words. But they died in my throat. And my love died with them.

Nothing I said could get through to her. The blood-lust had taken her, leaving her craving that which pumped feverishly beneath my skin. The poison working its way through my veins had prevented the vampires from feasting on me, but from the look on Susan's face, it wouldn't be enough to stop her from killing me.

I lashed out, my fear spiking as I felt her teeth tighten on my flesh. I had felt all too much of that in the hours prior, and the sensation overrode my attempts at stopping Susan peacefully.

The kinetic blast I unleashed threw her across the room. She bounced off one of the laundry machines there, her back twisting painfully on impact. But it wasn't enough. The vampire blood was in her veins, and nothing would stop her until my own was in her belly.

She surged forward, her eyes as dark as night as they stared hungrily. I managed to climb to my feet, and raised my arms defensively as she fell upon me. Her strength surprised me, and I recoiled from her fury as her still-human teeth gnashed at my arms.

I wished that I had something left in the tank, something I could use to at least stun her. Daze her enough to try and reason with her again. But the kinetic spell I'd thrown at her had been the last of my reserves.

As she thrashed, I managed to twist to one side, throwing her off balance. She stumbled, and I heard Justine whimper somewhere behind me. Before I could retreat to the girl, Susan had recovered, launching herself at my midsection.

The blow was enough to knock me off my feet, and she drove me to the floor. My head smacked against the cold concrete, and bile rose in my throat as my head grew dizzy. My vision swam, but I could still see clear enough when Susan dove at my neck. I felt a sharp pain then, one that lent itself to a visceral and panicked response. I pushed at her, clawing desperately at her body. I tried drawing magic into myself, but nothing came.

My own body had seen too much abuse to put up a fight, and I'd spent the last of my magic on that final attack.

There was nothing left for me but pain.

I could feel the trickle of blood running down my neck as Susan tore at it, her teeth seemingly growing sharper as she dug deeper. I felt my heart flutter as I pushed at her, but she was too strong. Too strong by far.

That's when Justine struck.

A desperate cry escaped her curled lips as she struck something against the back of Susan's head. I couldn't see what it was, but it didn't make much of a difference. It pulled Susan's attention away for only a moment, as the half-turned vampire I'd loved lashed out and struck the girl away.

And then Susan was upon me again, and I felt my breath stutter through my throat as the world went black.

My nightmares came quickly, and the Nightmare was waiting.

It was like a fever dream, one where the world around you is a swirl of color and sensation. My dream was of dark things in dark places. And beyond them, an endless darkness, just waiting to crash upon whatever light was left in my world.

I was unconscious, my mind lost in pain and my body on death's door. But that didn't mean that whatever was left of Leonid Kravos didn't have time to have its fun.

The Nightmare attacked, and I wish I could say that I resisted. But there was nothing left in me. No magic, no strength, no will to fight. When the thing tore into me, it did so with glee, and I had nothing to offer in return but desperate screams.

But the mind is a strange place. A wizard's mind, even stranger. So as I lay dying in both the real world and a dream world of the Never-never, whatever was left of me took form.

As the Nightmare played, I saw a dark figure appear in the shadows. The form was familiar, and I couldn't help but laugh through the agony as my ghost stepped forward and seized the Nightmare from behind.

The thing struggled, to be sure. But we were in my mind; in my dream demesne in the Never-never, and what was left of me held the Nightmare back as I struggled to rise. It raged and thrashed, full of power when I had none. And yet my ghost held it with a grim determination. I rose before the Nightmare, a fire still burning within me somewhere, determined to not let some two-bit hack like Leonid Kravos have any role in my death.

As my ghost held it, I slashed at the Nightmare. My fingers grew sharp in my mindscape, talons tearing at incorporeal flesh. My own rage and hate fueled me. My hate for Kravos and Bianca, for taking everything I loved. My hate for Lea, for her role in things, playing games that had cost me any chance of getting through to Susan.

And hate for myself, of course. For failing the others. Failing Michael, and Thomas, and Justine. Failing Susan.

Failing myself.

I gave in to that hate; let it guide me as I fought the thing. I found myself tearing chunks of it free, and then passing it through my lips. My face grew slick with gore as I feasted on the thing that had caused so much pain to Murphy, and Mickey Malone, and myself.

And as I did, I felt power return to me.

That's what the Nightmare was. Power. That which was left of Kravos, and my own which it had stolen. Raw power.

Power that I could use.

It was not pretty, what I did. I ripped away everything that the Nightmare was, and made it part of me. My own power was there; pure, silver lightning coursing through my veins as it was restored to its rightful place. And with it, the dark, carmine fire of Kravos' own magic, fueled with hate and evil.

The nature of his power did not matter to me in that moment. Power was power. No matter how dark, it could be bent to my will. My purpose. I could use it, and maybe — just maybe — I could survive.

I devoured every last drop of the Nightmare. Its terror-laced cries had ceased long before I was done. My ghost, formed of my unfinished will, had long since faded. Perhaps it had looked upon me in disgust as it did. Perhaps I only imagined it.

That was fine. Its purpose had been fulfilled. My own still remained. It had no right to judge me for doing what needed to be done.

When I had finished with the Nightmare, my dream self thrummed with power. Bright silver and dark red coursed through me, swirling, spinning, blending into my being.

I stood strong in the dreamscape, stronger than I could have hoped. And when I opened my eyes, the demesne of the Never-never snapped away, as I was thrust back into the real world, to face what awaited me.

I awoke to carnage.

Blood still seeped from the damage done to my neck. I reached for it, and found my body still feeble and weak. The healthy form of my dream self was nothing but an illusion; in the real world, I was still very much at death's door.

But I was alive.

Justine was not.

I turned my head at an inhuman sound, and found myself staring into the dull eyes of the dead girl. Her own throat was savaged, but there wasn't much blood. Some, to be sure, but the wound upon her neck was mostly just shredded flesh and muscle.

Her blood lay in the belly of the beast across the room. The beast that had once been Susan Rodriguez.

I struggled to rise, and found myself barely up to the task. As I did, I watched the dark, leathery thing writhe as it completed its transformation.

It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. When my consciousness had fled, Susan had been feasting on my blood. My poisoned blood, which had finally turned her away from me. My foolish precaution had saved my life once again, and cost Justine her own.

The bloodthirsty woman I'd loved had turned her attention on the girl, and there was nothing she could do to defend herself. Not against the strength Susan had exhibited even before she had transformed.

I watched as the form stilled, and a monstrous face turned its attention back to me.

I don't know if the transformation wiped away what was left of her. I don't know if it made her forget that my blood was poisoned. All I know is that the fully turned Red Court vampire that charged at me had my death in its dark eyes.

I met its determined gaze with my own.

I thrust a hand forward, and unfamiliar words trickled through my lips. The spell I unleashed hit the vampire full on, and sent it crashing backward with incredible and violent force. Had it struck a solid wall, it would have surely been crushed.

Instead, it struck the door to the room, which was smashed into so much kindling beneath the blow.

The vampire bounced off the wall across the way, and fell to the floor in a daze. I struggled to rise, but by the time I had, two more figures had joined the dark leathery thing. I recognized them, and fury coursed through my veins as the Hamilton twins looked upon my rage.

The show of force must have been enough. The two shared a glance, and then they were gone. The newly formed vampire disappeared with them, supported by the two. I was left staring into an empty hallway, my chest heaving as the ferocious power within me demanded to be unleashed.

But there would be time for that.

I stumbled out into the hallway, unwilling to look at the dead girl I was leaving behind. There was nothing I could do for her now. All I could do was try and survive, and if I couldn't, perhaps try and balance things before I died.

I searched the basement, looking for anything I could use. I came across my things in another room, and was surprised to see Bob's skull intact. Bob had something nonsensical to say, but I silenced him. There was no time for levity. No time for anything but vengeance and survival.

Once I'd donned my jacket and gathered my things, I made my way out of the basement. The house was quiet, but I knew that there would be something awaiting me. Bianca wouldn't just let me go.

I found them in the great hall. Bianca stood upon the raised dais where she'd reigned over her court the night before, still dressed in all her finery. The Hamiltons were similarly attired, which was a stark contrast to the other dozen vampires around them, their true forms revealed and ready for a fight.

And kneeling beside Bianca, her latest undead child.

I hardly took note of the mortal gunmen between us. When they opened fire, it took nothing more than a thought to create a shield and send their bullets back at them. Half of them fell to flesh wounds, and the others ceased fire, knowing their guns were no use against me. They fell back as I strode toward Bianca, the silver and carmine power within me seeking to be unleashed.

But my body wavered, and I stumbled to a halt.

I'd lost too much blood; was still losing it, to be honest. And while my body might have been filled with power, it lacked the strength to do what needed to be done.

As I quickly tried to recover, to keep them from seeing my weakness, a man appeared from a side door. He introduced himself as Duke Paulo Ortega. An official of some kind with the Red Court, come to give me warning. The power within me raged, but I held it back as he spoke.

War, they warned me, with knowing smiles on their lips. If I continued, it would be war between the White Council and the Red Court. I would be guilty of a grievous violation of the Accords, and the Red Court would have no choice but to declare war on the Council as retaliation.

Their words chilled the blood-lust in my heart. I wanted nothing more than to tear them apart with the power at my disposal. But my eyes fell on what was left of Susan Rodriguez, and I wondered what exactly I would be fighting for.

I had failed.

Susan was dead. For all intents and purposes, the woman I loved was gone, replaced with a monster of my own making. Maybe if I'd been clearer about the danger, she wouldn't have come. Maybe if I'd somehow been able to get through to her, I could have prevented her transformation, and Justine's death.

Vengeance would be sweet, and just. But would it be worth all the bloodshed that would follow?

The look on Bianca's face when I accepted her offer was almost enough to make me lash out. The room trembled for a moment as my rage warred just beneath my skin. I saw her smile falter, and perhaps that was enough to abate my anger for a time.

I turned, knowing that I was doing the right thing. I was sparing lives. My own, for sure, if I could get medical attention fast enough. The Council members, certainly, for there would be no war fought over my pride and embarrassment.

And perhaps Susan's as well. I had to convince myself of that as I stumbled from the mansion, my legs weak as death worked its way through my body. Perhaps in time I could find a way to reverse what had been done to her. Bring her back from whatever hell she now lived because of me.

And perhaps I could have, given time. But time was one of many things I would not have, as the consequences of my choices finally crashed down upon my world.

I made it to the hospital. The doctors worked their own form of magic, and did what they could for me. It was a short and miserable stay, but I survived.

The Carpenter child did not.

I don't know if there was anything the doctors could have done. Something had happened to the boy when the Nightmare attacked. The boy should have been free of it when I killed the ghost, but the baby never recovered.

Perhaps too much of the Nightmare still survived. Perhaps it was my fault, for letting that darkness thrive within me, rather than letting it go. But I was hurt, and afraid.

The darkness that had been Kravos stirred within me for a long time.

Charity certainly took no hesitance in blaming me. I had brought violence upon their house which Michael's Employers could do nothing about. Free will had guided Michael's hand in befriending me, and that same free will bound those that might have helped the faithful.

And so Michael and Charity left the hospital days before I did, to mourn their loss.

They weren't the only ones.

Thomas visited me at the hospital, to hear what had happened to the girl he loved. I could see it then, when his eyes grew dead at the word of her fate. In whatever way a White Court vampire could love one of its victims, Thomas had loved Justine.

I couldn't tell him what happened. I lied, making up some story about the others killing her before I'd even arrived. It was a lame attempt, and he knew it for the lie that it was.

But I couldn't tell him it had been Susan. Not if I wanted her to continue on as she was, in hope that I would be able to get her back. A White Court vampire might not have the raw strength of the Reds, but I knew that Thomas would hunt her down and seek vengeance of his own.

And so I lied. I lied, and he knew it. And then he left.

I thought Charity's hate, Michael's pain, and Thomas' disgust would break me. It nearly did.

But then Bob arrived with the news that would change my life forever.

The word was out. The White Council had declared me a warlock. I barely made it out of the hospital before several Wardens arrived, looking to take my head. I was stunned, and scared, and felt betrayed in a way that I hadn't since my old mentor Justin had turned on me.

It didn't take long for me to learn what had happened. The White Council had received surveillance footage of my attack at Bianca's party. My furious, magic fueled attack that had lain waste to many that had still been in attendance.

Some of whom turned out to be human.

I had killed with magic. I had used the essence of life to bring death to mortals.

Again.

And the Council wanted my head.

I had known it was a possibility, of course. After the party, when Michael and Thomas and I had been planning our raid, I had pushed the worry aside. I tried to convince myself that only the vampires had remained as I'd unleashed those frenzied flames upon my enemies.

But now came the proof that I had killed with the fundamental tool of life. And no-one was willing to hear my side of the story. That it had once more been in self defense, as I tried to do the right thing, did not matter. It would not even fall upon deaf ears, for I would not be given the time to utter my excuses.

And so the Council began to hunt me. And I began to run.

Michael offered to help me, of course. That's who he was. It didn't matter that I was a killer. It didn't matter that his child had died, quite possibly because of me. Michael was a friend, and offered me aide when I was in need.

I declined.

As tempting as his offer was, I knew it wouldn't do any good. Michael would defend me from the Council, but it would cost him his life. As powerful as his faith was, he couldn't stand against the Council. Not when in his heart of hearts, he knew that I deserved what they sought to do.

And so I ran. Alone, save for Bob, I ran, with the Council on my heels.

I wasn't there when Charity raged at Michael for offering to help me even after everything that had transpired. I wasn't there when their marriage almost fell apart, and their faith was tested because of his friendship with me.

I wasn't there when Murphy finally came out of the sleeping spell. I wasn't there to help her understand, or aide in her recovery from such an abusive and intrusive attack.

I wasn't there, because I was fighting for my life.

The Council was convinced that I was beyond redemption. That I should be put down like a dog that had bitten its owner one too many times. That I was a warlock that killed innocents without any remorse.

They were wrong. I wasn't that man.

Not yet.

There were many things I regretted in those first days on the run. Looking back, I wished I'd finished Bianca when I had the chance. If I'd fought her, maybe the tapes wouldn't have been sent. Maybe if I'd laid waste to her and her house, they would have been destroyed.

I wished that I had a second chance to save Justine. Maybe if I had taken her advice, and left Susan alone in the dark of the basement, we could have escaped.

I wished that I could have done something for Michael and Charity's child. I wished that I could be there for them, and for Murphy, when she faced the darkness of her mind.

But of all the things I regretted, one stood out more than any other.

I wished I had one more chance to tell Susan how I felt. To tell her what she deserved to know, even if it didn't make a difference. Even if they were the last words I ever said.

To say three simple words that aren't so simple after all.

I'll let you guess which three.