A/N: Hi, this is my first time posting on yay me! So, just an FYI - I own neither the wonderful workings of Joss Whedon, nor the marvelous Middle Earth of Tolkien. If I did, Spike would always be shirtless and Aragorn would never have to deprive Arwen of her immortality.
Takes place post season two for Buffy and I'd say you can figure out the Middle-Earth timeline easily enough.
§▬§▬§
It was a hot summer.
The air was heavy and wet, the fleeting relief of rain coming only at night, the rising sun evaporating the fresh-fallen liquid and adding to the oppressive humidity.
Willow sighed, fanning herself with her hand, and wished that Buffy were here. She had not seen her friend since that night at the hospital. No one had seen hide nor hair of the blonde Slayer since the defeat of Angelus and Acathla.
Giles was off searching for her again. This time the rumors that drew him were from a small town in Washington, Seahaven or something. A small, sad smile quirked the redhead's lips, Buffy was usually the one who had trouble with names. It was a trademark, one of those obnoxious-yet-endearing things that everyone missed.
Swinging her legs idly as she sat on the edge of a stone fence, Willow wondered what her summer would have been like if her spell hadn't gone wrong, if it had been Angel Buffy went to, and not Angelus, if the vampire could have been saved…
If, if, if, there was nothing she could do about it now. But oh, if there was, she would do ANYTHING to fix this.
Soft rustling drew her attention and she eyed the dark cemetery before her apprehensively, fingering the balloon filled with Holy Water that sat beside her. A small cat wandered out of the dark, and Willow slowly relaxed, the vaguely sphere-shaped object dropping from her hand, letting her fingers unclench themselves from the rubbery material. Xander was the one who had thought up the Holy-Bombs, as he dubbed them, an ingenious idea. They were useful, but unwieldy, not something Buffy could ever take on patrol.
That is, if Buffy ever patrolled again…
These thoughts darkened Willow's already cloudy mood. She leapt lightly off the fence and headed for home, maybe a quick call to Oz would cheer her up… but he was in Las Angeles, touring with the Dingoes. Darn!
Grumbling to herself, the redhead let herself into the dark house. Her parents were in London, touring their latest collaboration, 'Sugar and Teen Depression.' Xander had been a real lifesaver during the research for THAT little piece of work. The jelly donuts at those late-night research parties had been the only thing that kept her from screaming.
Her room was white and clean, but she grimaced, saddened by the still-empty fish tank. She missed Angel, he was always so nice. Not that she could share that with anyone. Giles was still hurting emotionally from the loss of Ms. Calendar, and he had only just been able to take out the stitches from Angelus's final 'hurrah.' And Xander… her bestest buddy since kindergarten had had it out for the vamp since day one. Her boyfriend Oz was too new to the gang to know Angel all that well, though admittedly he was a fantastic listener.
Where had she gone wrong with the spell? Xander and Oz had told her about the weird bit when her eyes had gone black and she'd begun speaking in a strange language, but she didn't remember any of it. All she could recall was a lingering feeling of darkness that she assumed was from her brush with the demon.
"Maybe if I could remember what I did wrong, I could…" She sighed unhappily, there was nothing she could do, Angelus and Angel were forever out of reach. On the other hand, "If I remember what went wrong, I can keep something like that from happening again!" Brightening considerably at this thought, Willow went to her closet and began to root through the small pile of magic books she had hidden there.
Flipping through to the index, she frowned in disappointment: there was no memory-revealing spell listed there. She was about to shut the book when something caught her eye.
"Rosemary, a garden and cooking herb commonly associated with memory," her eyes twinkled with excitement, "Perfect!"
§▬§▬§
The herb was easy to find, her mother kept a nice garden in their backyard, for purely aesthetic value of course. Luckily for Willow, Sheila happened to like the way rosemary looked. The small bundle smelled faintly of mint, a homey scent that made her think of Xander and Jesse.
Back upstairs again, the redhead attempted to stifle a yawn, she should really try and get something done before she went to bed. Setting the herb down on her neat sheets, Willow bowed her head, sitting before the bundle Indian-style.
"Goddess hear my plea, open the veiled door, release my memory!"
Her eyes shut, the untrained Wicca could not see the shadow that passed over the moon. Sibilant whispers seemed to come from the corners of the room, but Willow could not hear them over the sound of her own breathing…
There are some things not meant to be disturbed, and on the Mouth of Hell, the barriers between worlds grows thin and stretched.
Like butter scraped over too much bread.
After a few more minutes, she frowned, frustrated. "Well, THAT didn't work," she muttered, stretching her legs out across the white sheets. Her mouth gaped wide in an enormous yawn, "Time for sleep, I guess…" Changing into her pajamas was the work of a moment, turning back to the bed she stopped and considered the rosemary.
"What to do with you…" she tapped her finger against her lips, "Maybe it takes a little longer to kick in." Slipping the rosemary into a small velvet bag, one that had once housed shiny marbles, the bag went under her pillow, and Willow went to bed.
§▬§▬§
She woke hours late. The sun was already high overhead, it was lunchtime already?
Brunch was a bagel and a small salad, using a little of the rosemary last night for seasoning. It gave the veggies a nice spring-like taste.
Deciding that she really did NOT feel like braving the heat, the redhead decided to stay nice and cozy in the air conditioning of her home. Xander would probably call later, anyways.
Her clothing shifted as she stood, making a soft whispering sound, and suddenly she remembered…
Her dreams from last night.
'Huh,' Willow thought, 'Not exactly what I was shooting for, but it's a good first try!'
Dreams had always been scattered and vague for her, it was a pleasure to finally have something substantial to recall. She remembered wandering through a dark gray mist unable to find any landmarks but the soft whispers that drew her forward.
"Come…"
"Come…"
"Come… to me…"
A frown furrowed her brow, what did that mean? Where were her parents when she… no, Willow hastily amended that thought before it could be fully voiced, she NEVER wanted her parents to analyze her dreams:
They might take away her sugar again!
§▬§▬§
That night Willow dreamed again, a dark dream full of death and disturbing gore. She dreamed a battle waged between two great armies. One composed of monstrous creatures, things she didn't think even Buffy could take. The other full of beautiful shining figures and men.
The scary monsters seemed to be losing… until a figure appeared from deep within their ranks. He was tall and broad, obviously their leader, his armor was black and shining like tarnished silver. When Willow looked at him, he looked back.
Hazel eyes met silver-black with a gasp… and she woke up.
Wheezing for breath she lay on her bed for a minute, trying to gather herself, "What the heck was that?"
§▬§▬§
"So you used some herbs."
"Yup."
"Are you SURE it was rosemary? Not something… else? I mean, your parents aren't exactly the hippie-ish type, but you never know, behind closed doors-"
"Xander! My parents do not smoke weed!" Willow giggled, twisting the phone cord through her fingers, "Besides, it's my house too, there are no 'closed doors.'"
"Well then maybe the stuff got Hellmouthified."
"Hellmouthified?"
"Yeah… hey! Buffy's not the only one who's allowed to make up words!"
Willow was silent for a moment, "I miss her, Xan."
"So do I, Wills," he replied sadly, but the redhead caught an undercurrent of anger in his tone. She couldn't blame him for it, a part of her felt like the blonde had just abandoned them, left them to their Hellmouthy fate.
"Giles will find her."
Xander sighed, "I know Wills, but I don't think she WANTS to be found."
Willow didn't reply, this was an ongoing debate between them: Xander insistent that Giles's searching was useless, while the redhead held tightly to the belief that Buffy could be CONVINCED to return.
"Been doin' any patrolling lately?"
"Nah, not much point, is there? I mean, Angie cleaned house before he tried to raise Acathla."
"Yeah," Willow yawned, "I need to go, get some sleep."
"Sleep? It's only eight o'clock!"
"I've been up since… well, since!"
"Wills, maybe you should talk to Giles…"
"I'm ok, I'm ok, besides, he's busy."
"Too busy for something potentially Hellmouthy weird?"
"No, but, this isn't Hellmouthy weird, just Willowy-weird. I'm fine, Xan, and if I'm NOT fine, it's nothing a good ol' bout of Snoopy-dancing won't fix."
"If you're sure…"
"I'm sure, night Xander."
"G'night, Wills. Sleep tight, don't let the vampires bite."
The dial tone sounded, signaling that Xander had gotten off the line. Willow stretched languidly, she hadn't been able to shake a feeling of bone-deep weariness. Her whole day had felt like one long fever-dream.
Nothing to worry about, she'd just get up from the couch, get herself a nice, warm cup of tea and take.. her… temperature…..
Her eyes fluttered closed, hand relaxing until the phone hit the floor with a soft thunk as she slipped gently into the world of dreams.
§▬§▬§
She was deep in a stone fortress. The black rock shone like obsidian, twisted and tortured into unnatural shapes that were grotesque and beautiful all at once. It hurt the eye and heart to see them, like watching a lightning storm of acid rain.
She wandered from room to room, the silence so thick that her bare feet echoed against the floor as she slipped through the castle, searching for the source of the whispers that crowded at the edge of her conscious mind.
At last she came to a long hall, different from all the other rooms in that it had a splash of color in it. A bright red fire danced and flickered in a hearth sitting at the end of the room opposite the door Willow had used.
She paused for a moment to stare at the fireplace. It was made of the same glass-like material that decorated the rest of the castle, but this was no abstract work. The fireplace had been fashioned by a master craftsman to look like the gaping mouth of some great beast. The fire burned in it's mouth, the teeth that ringed the blaze made what should have been inviting warmth into a sort of warning. The orange and red light flickered off glass shaped to make scales. Though Willow tried she could not find a name in her mind to describe the creature, it was like nothing she'd ever seen before.
It was most definitely NOT something she would like to have the opportunity to see first-hand.
A chuckle sounded from behind her, and Willow jumped, startled. Spinning she looked up…
and up…
and up into the face of one of the tallest men she had ever seen. He was at least seven and a half feet tall! Long black hair was pulled into a loose queue at the nape of his neck, and fierce dark eyes inspected her with amusement.
Willow flushed to the roots of her hair, he was beautiful… and frightening.
"No," he murmured, and his voice was like velvet, soft and soothing, "You would not want to meet one of my hounds."
The redhead blanked for a moment before realizing she must have spoken her comment about the fireplace creature aloud. "Oh," she felt the blush rising to heretofore unheard of heights, "Your hounds?"
He smiled, revealing very white, even teeth, "Yes, they guard my lands, they are fearsome creatures."
She gestured behind her, "Is that fireplace to scale?" At his nod her eyes widened, "Then I believe you."
His lips twitched as if she had just said something very amusing. "Come," he held out an arm for her, "I have been wanting to show you my home."
"You - you have?" Willow asked uncertainly, this was a very STRANGE dream, but she knew it for a dream. She frowned, she wasn't SUPPOSED to be sleeping yet, there was something she was supposed to be doing, because she-
"I have," he smiled at her, a slow secretive expression and despite herself she returned the gesture. Though her grin was far more open than his.
Taking his hand, she inquired, "What did you want to show me?"
His grin widened, and Willow was struck with the knowledge that there was something a little too… sharp about his teeth.
"Everything, my dear. Everything."
§▬§▬§
Willow woke feeling even more tired than she had been when she went to sleep. She sent a fleeting glance towards the clock before returning to it with shock evident in her eyes.
6:35 P.M. it read. She had slept for 22 hours straight.
She felt alarm bubbling up inside of her, but something seemed to push it back. She shrugged off the knowledge that normal people just did NOT sleep entire days away, and tried to remember what it was exactly that she had meant to do before she went to bed, er, COUCH last night.
Oh yes, that was right: eat and take her temperature.
Rising slowly, Willow reluctantly made herself a sandwich and a glass of milk. She just wasn't all that hungry really, after all, she'd already eaten with…
She frowned, but that was in her dream. It didn't count as actual FOOD. But it felt like it counted, she felt as if she'd eaten a full meal, no, a FEAST!
Glancing down at her ham-on-rye she wrinkled her nose, tossing it in the trash she felt the need to apologize, "Sorry, you're just not as tasty as the roast duck I had earlier."
Next on the agenda… she was supposed to take her temperature. The thermometer was easy to find, sitting between the aspirin and the emergency medical kit her she had bought after her first brush with yellow-eyed death.
She stuck it under her tongue and waited. A few minutes later it beeped reluctantly, she pulled it out with a sigh of relief: 96.2 degrees.
Willow frowned, "Well, at least I don't have a fever."
She yawned, and scratched at her hair idly, she hadn't showered in at least two days. There, that was next on the list of Things To Do. Passing the answering machine on the way up the stairs she was surprised to see that she had eight messages.
She debated the merits of delaying her shower, at last pushing the button.
"Hello? Hello? Willow, this is Giles. Xander has informed me that you have been having some rather odd dreams of late…" A long burst of static followed, Willow frowned, it sounded almost like music, and she could have sworn that she recognized it from one of her dreams… When Giles's voice picked up again, she could not help but feel as if she'd missed something vitally important, "… by Thursday at the latest, alright? Call Xander if you have any more trouble. Goodbye."
"Willow? It's your mother. The tour has been extended another week. Your father and I are wiring you three hundred dollars, remember to pay the electric bill on the first of the month. Goodbye."
"Wills? C'mon, Wills it's ten in the morning, I know you're not asleep. Maybe you're out in the garden getting more of those 'herbs!' Anyways, call me back as soon as you get this message, ok?"
"Wills? It's eleven o'clock, just calling to make sure you aren't dead, call me back, bestest bud o'mine…"
Four more messages from Xander followed, an increasing tone of worry in each and every one. Willow shook her head irritably, why was he getting so worked up? She could take care of herself!
She called his house quickly, waiting through three rings before she could leave a message, "Xander? I'm fine! Sheesh, for somebody so upset about a few missed phone calls, YOU'RE not exactly easy to get in touch with! I'll talk to you later, oh and could you tell me why…" She trailed off frowning as she tried to remember what she had been about to ask Xander, something about an explanation?
Oh well. "Bye, Xan, love you," she muttered vaguely to finish the message. If she wasn't so darn TIRED she could concentrate more, she was sure of it.
Her shower was long and sleepy, she felt as if every movement was being made inn a bathtub of cool molasses. Three times she had to stick her face under the hot water to rinse soap out of her eyes, because three times her head had begun to loll forward as she fought the losing battle with sleep.
"So… tired…" she yawned, looking forward to cool sheets and a long rest. Her lips quirked, it was funny how a few good dreams changed your whole perspective on a simple little thing like sleep.
One towel swathed through her hair, another wrapped tightly around her body, Willow dropped onto her bed and into her oh-so-intriguing dreams.
§▬§▬§
He was right there, waiting for her.
"Lady Willow," he bowed, offering his arm again, she took it smiling softly as he led her through one of the many passages that turned his home into a dark maze.
"Lord…" She frowned, then smiled up at him a touch playfully, "You know, you've never actually told me your name."
He was silent for a minute, "You may call me Sauron."
She nodded solemnly, no explanation needed to impart the honor she was being given with this knowledge. "Where are we going?"
"I thought that you might want a small repast before I show you the library…" At her sharp squeal of excitement he smirked, "… Or perhaps we should forget the meal?"
"No, no, food is good, I forgot to eat before coming here."
He led her into a long hall, similar to the one where she had first encountered him. Gentlemanly, he pulled out the chair to the right of the head of the table for her before settling himself into his customary seat.
As soon as they were seated the food appeared. No servers, no waiting, it was just there, steaming and delicious.
Willow's mouth watered. Watching as Sauron served her roast beef and stewed vegetables caramelized in their own juices. Certain little things that he did, were so very old-fashioned, yet on him she found them to be endearing. Serving her food, pulling out chairs for her… a girl could get used to this!
She savored her first bite with eyes closed as she hummed in gastronomic pleasure.
She did not see the gleam of hunger and triumph in his eyes.
She did not see the dark orbs flare red-orange-gold for just the barest of moments.
When Willow at last opened her eyes, Sauron was as engaged with his meal as she had been with her but a moment before.
"Does it please you?"
"Oh, yes, very much!"
"Good," he smiled brightly at her, "Do you like it here?"
She nodded, "Yes."
He glanced around at the black stone that surrounded them. Even the fire flickering in the grate could lend no warmth to the cold, stark walls of his castle. His dark eyes flicked back to study her. This girl, this mortal child had drawn his attention with her foolish forays into magic, and kept it with her innocence.
Corruption had always been his favorite game.
§▬§▬§
Slowly, ever so slowly, green eyes flickered open. Seeing only blank white, they blinked in confusion once, twice, three times, before their owner could summon the energy or desire to sit up.
Willow looked around in profound puzzlement. Why was she in the hospital? Why was Xander sleeping in the chair beside her bed? And what were all those strange, old-looking books beside him?
Attempting to stretch her under-used muscles she was arrested by a sharp pain in her wrist. A needle was connected to her hand, following the tube it was attached to she was startled to see a bag of fluids.
She was being fed intravenously, why?
A soft snuffling sound drew her focus and she watched in mild bemusement as Xander made the climb back towards wakefulness.
"Wills?" He sat up in surprise, any remnants of his uncomfortable night banished by the fact that his friend was awake and looking at him.
"Xand? What's going on?"
He plucked at the sheet covering her, and she could see that he was restraining himself from hugging her, "Wills, you've been unconscious for a week! I came to check up on you the day after I got your message and found you collapsed on your bed…" He blushed, "You hadn't even had time to get dressed…"
She nodded, remembering, "I know, I was just so tired, Xander."
The dark-eyed young man nodded solemnly, "We know, Giles and I have been researching sleep-demons, Wills. We don't know how this - this THING attached itself to you, but we're going to get rid of it, don't worry."
"Sauron is not a THING," green eyes flashed dangerously, "He's my friend, he's just lonely, that's all."
Xander's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull, "Just LONELY? Wills when I found you the doctor's say you hadn't eaten in three days, you've been unconscious for a WEEK! What's wrong with you?"
Willow shook her head sharply, Xander was her bestest bud, why wasn't he happy that she'd found such a good friend? "Nothing's wrong with me, I've just been catching up on all the sleep I lose during the school year, that's all."
"Over 168 hours of sleep?" He was beginning to get angry, she could tell. Xander had always had the worst temper out of the three of them. She was the logical one, Jesse was the optimistic one, and Xander was the pessimist. Willow hadn't quite figured how things worked out in the new trio they'd formed with Buffy, but it didn't really matter, did it? Now that Buffy was gone…
Xander was trying to get her attention, HAD been trying to get her attention for the past five minutes. He had watched in horror as her eyes grew glazed, then seemed to look past him. A happy smile grew on her face before her eyes slid shut and she collapsed back onto the pillows with a contented sigh.
Minutes later, three nurses and a doctor had to drag the young man out of his friend's room as he struggled wildly to get back to her. They had found him shaking the patient by the shoulders, practically screaming into her face. Patients and families watched in ill-concealed pity as the desperate young man fought to get back to his friend.
"She's gotta stay awake, you don't understand, Willow, PLEASE!"
§▬§▬§
Giles and a slightly-more-subdued Xander hunkered down for the 'research party.' Without Willow or Buffy there, calling it a 'party' was something of a joke. The man and boy wore pinched looks of concentration as they avidly searched through Giles's books and tomes for something, ANYTHING, they could use to help the redhead.
"And you're absolutely SURE she said Sauron?"
"Yes, Sauron," Xander nodded, smiling bitterly, "She called him her 'friend.'"
"Yes, well," Giles took his glasses off and proceeded to polish them, thinking, "No doubt there is some sort of mind-control, or perception-distortion involved."
"Gee, ya think?" The dark-haired teen sighed, "Sorry, G-man, that was uncalled for, I'm just so worried. We've never done this sort of thing without Willow to help in the research, I mean, there she'd be," he gestured towards the librarian's favorite machine, "Looking up stuff online…"
"You've been unable to contact Oz?"
Xander nodded, "I think his cell's off, I tried e-mailing him earlier, but he's probably at a gig, or something."
"Well, we'll just have to do things the old-fashioned way, then, eh?"
"Old-fashioned wouldn't happen to be synonymous with British, now would it?" Xander asked, summoning up a wan grin to go with his weak attempt at lightening the mood.
But Giles had already returned to his research, leaving Xander to page through yet another solid tome of demonology. Hours passed with nothing, until at last:
"Ah! Uh, what would Wills say… eureka!"
"You've found something?" Giles asked eagerly.
"Maybe, but it's not a sleep-demon thing, it's a book on old gods and demonic entities from alternate dimensions."
"Alternate dimensions?" The librarian frowned, "Let me see."
Silently, Xander handed the dusty volume over, coming to hover beside Giles's shoulder while the older man paged through the book, consternation showing clearly on his face.
At last he sat back, his expression one of deep thought.
Xander jigged from foot to foot impatiently, "So? Didja find something, can we kill it?"
Giles came back to himself with a start, "Oh, um, yes, it appears there's a series of precedents for this sort of thing, demonic entities crossing world-dimensions to access something or someone on a Hellmouth…"
"So, what's with the weird? I mean, you seem seriously bugged?"
"This book," he leaned forward to caress the leather cover absently, "It describes certain Hellmouths, ones I'VE never even heard of, in the past tense, almost as if they'd been closed." He shrugged, "I didn't know that they COULD be closed, let alone permanently shut."
"You mean no more Hellmouth? 'Mystical convergence' goes bye-bye? Why hasn't the Council just gone around and shut all of the 'Mouths then?" Xander asked, flabbergasted.
"I don't know, and for now that doesn't matter," the Englishman shook his head, "What matters is figuring out how to help Willow." He turned back to the book and proceeded to flip through until he found a page covered in a strangely flowing script, "Now, it seems that this entity, 'Sauron' is a god of some type-"
"Uber-powerful Big Bad, got it," Xander interrupted impatiently, "Why does he want Willow?"
"It says that he's attracted to power, and the corruption of good, it references a few creatures that have been sent through the Hellmouth on various errands, typically to capture a particular artifact or… here we go… once, several decades ago one of his minions captured a Slayer and drained her blood, there has been no mention of him since then."
"What would he want with Slayer blood?"
Giles sat back, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully, "Well, Slayer's blood is one of the rarest and most useful magical tools in our world. It makes vampires more powerful, instilling a sort of 'high' for a short while, and increasing their stamina and intelligence in the long run. It's possible that Sauron wished to use it for some sort of ritual."
Xander frowned, "That's nice and all, but what would he want with Willow? She's nice and normal, well, incredibly smart, but NORMAL, like me…" He trailed off, shock on his face, "Oh crap."
"What Xander?" It was Giles's turn to express impatience.
"The spell Willow did to get Angie's soul back," Xander started haltingly, "Something went wrong. It seemed like it was going ok, then her eyes turned black and she started spouting off some stuff in a weird language-"
Giles interrupted the teen to recite something in an oddly guttural, yet flowing tongue. It seemed as if the shadows of the room strengthened with his words, reaching out as if to touch the librarian.
Xander paled, "Yeah," he muttered, "That's the stuff."
"That is the language the demons have spoken whenever they've crossed over, it's a demonic variant, one that the Watcher's Council has been unable to positively link with any in our own land. It has trace elements of classic vampiric and Fay languages, but not enough to be a true bastardization of either."
"The language stuff is all well and good, G-man, but why did she start spouting off that gobbledygook or whatever it is?"
"It seems that she drew Sauron's attention when she cast the spell," Giles smiled sadly. "It's why Jenny wanted to be the focus, using such power is dangerous on a Hellmouth, it draws attention. The combination of so much power and such innocence," he shook his head, "I'm sure it was too much for Sauron to be able to resist."
Sighing, he continued, "What I cannot understand is why he would wait so long, why he didn't start trying to get to her while she was still in the hospital. Can you think of anything, Xander?"
"Yeah, she did a spell to remember what happened during the casting, she wanted to know so she could fix whatever it was she'd done wrong in case she ever had to do it again."
"I doubt she would ever again have cause to reattach a soul to a vampire," Giles muttered drolly.
Xander grinned weakly, "Yeah, but you know Wills, she's always gotta do it right, big on the learnin' is our Willow." He turned serious, "How do we stop this thing?"
§▬§▬§
She watched the sun rise, it was beautiful. The sky looked as if it had been dipped in blood: terrible and glorious.
Sauron stroked her hair softly as she leaned with her head against his shoulder, "I wish you could stay with me."
She sat up, "Why can't I?"
He looked surprised, "Well, your friends for one, they will be wanting you back."
She pouted, "They don't need me, and besides, I WANT to stay."
"It's not always like this," he warned, "My existence here is hardly idyllic. We are in the midst of a war."
"A war? Why, what's going on?"
His dark-silver eyes turned thoughtful, "Hundreds of years ago I was lord over most of these lands. I governed elves, dwarves, men, all races were peaceful and united under my banner. To better allow the peoples of Middle Earth to rule themselves, I gifted a set of rings to each of the races. The rings held much of what was best about each of the peoples they were attuned to. Three for the elves, wisest and fairest; seven for the dwarves, the craftsmen and makers; and nine for the race of man, to show stewardship under my reign."
"That doesn't sound so bad," suddenly her face brightened, "Elves? Like the little Keebler guys?"
He smiled indulgently, "No, they are man-shaped, but… different. I know not how to describe them to you."
"Never mind, go on with the story," she curled up beside him on the bench, folding her knees up to balance her head on her hands as she watched him with sparkling, intent green eyes.
"Lastly, I crafted a ring for myself, so that I might know what each of my chosen governors was doing, and so I could communicate with them more easily. I poured my soul into my ring, made it the focus of all that I am, it held my very essence as a ruler so that someday I would be able to pass it on to an heir worthy of Middle Earth…" He shook his head sadly, "I vastly underestimated the desire for power in the races I governed, even among the elves. They claimed that I was undermining their authority, that I was a bad ruler, and so they banded together against me. The dwarves, the elves, and the men all fought together to destroy me…"
After a long pause, Willow finally asked softly, "What happened?"
Sauron's lips twisted into a bitter and sad expression, "They stole my ring, my very SOUL from me on the day of our battle, and hid it. Without my ring I am but a shade, capable only of visiting the dreams of others. It has been a very lonely existence, torturous to watch as my lands grow dark and twisted without my guidance. The race of man has no heir to their kingdom, the elves have faded and many have left our land, and the dwarves have foolishly disturbed many evils in the depths of their subterranean domains." At this last statement his eyes gleamed with something a little like satisfaction, but this emotion was quickly doused so as not to upset his young companion.
"A soul ring, huh?" Willow asked, frowning. "You know, I happen to know a teensy-tiny bit about soul-magics myself. Maybe I could help you find your missing piece."
"Truly?"
"Oh yeah," the budding witch's head bobbed with enthusiasm, "I'm sure I could do SOMETHING to help you!"
Sauron leapt to his feet, lifting Willow and spinning her around in exhilaration. In her joy, Willow did not notice the dark anticipation that gleamed deep in his eyes, did not see the way his smiling teeth seemed almost feral, and did not care that she had just agreed to abandon everything that she once held dear.
Sauron stopped abruptly, his happy look dissolving as if it had never been there, "How can you help me, my Willow? You are so far away…"
Caught up with the fact that he had called her 'his,' Willow spoke before she thought, "Can't I come here? Fully, I mean? Like, in body, not just dreaming?"
"Yes… there is a way, but you would never be able to go home again," Sauron murmured, his eyes so full of pain and loneliness that the gentle witch's heart nearly broke.
"That doesn't matter, you need me more," she leaned her head against his chest.
He smiled down at her, and his eyes flickered red-gold, "Truly, Willow, I do."
§▬§▬§
Feverish eyes popped open to see pale gray shadows chasing across a pristine white room. Willow sat up slowly, her muscles too weak for anything more than small movements. She glanced around and was pleased to note that this time there was no Xander to hamper her plans.
Slipping out of the bed, she stood shakily and had to grab onto a nearby chair to steady herself. Slowly she made her way to the door and slipped out.
She didn't worry about nurses or doctors seeing her, this was Sunnydale, after all. They would probably assume she was out for a quick stroll, she giggled, they'd be right.
Willow was more worried about the trip to the school, after all, this WAS Sunnydale, and her path would lead her right by a couple of the town's worst cemeteries.
She was surprised when she got outside, the heat wave that had made everything so very dank and nasty was gone, signaling the return to a nice balmy 85 degrees. She shivered in her hospital gown, luckily it had a front AND a back, thank you very much Sunnydale Hospital!
The trip to the library was slow. She had to stop several times to rest, but luckily Sunnydale was a small town, and the hospital and school were relatively close together.
She was unsurprised to see lights on in the library, Giles and Xander were no doubt researching ways to get her back. Willow WAS surprised at the pang that this knowledge caused her, she would miss them terribly.
"… been two months, Giles, I would think that Willow's condition would be more worrying!" She heard Xander's voice as she neared the library, he was apparently in the middle of an argument.
"Yes, but-"
"But, NOTHING! You can't go off looking for Buffy, not when we're so close-"
"Xander, you have to face facts: Willow's not going to wake up unless she WANTS to!"
"She DOES want to, Giles!" The redhead winced at the desperation she could hear in her old kindergarten buddy's voice, " Sooner or later she'll wake up, needing our help, and when that time comes, we're gonna need to know what to do!"
"And in the meantime it is my duty as a Watcher to ascertain the whereabouts of my Slayer."
There was a brief silence, then the sounds of furious movement. Willow barely had time to dodge behind one of the doors before they swung open violently as Xander left, muttering viciously about, "Slayers who abandon their friends."
Willow ducked through the doors quickly as they bounced open again, she didn't want to draw any attention for what she was about to do.
She watched, safely hidden, as Giles poured himself a shot of amber liquid. He looked haggard and old, far more aged than he had been when she last saw him. Willow wondered what could have happened to affect him so.
Moving swiftly she got behind a few of the stacks, she needed a bit more space for what she was about to do. Sitting cross-legged, she balanced her hands palms-up on her knees, rosemary-bundle before her and whispered the phrase that had started it all… with one or two minor alterations:
"Morgoth hear my plea, open the veiled door, lead the token to me!"
There was a sigh, as if an insurmountable weight had suddenly been lifted, and suddenly a small flash directly in front of Willow. Something fell out of the air to land on top of her bundle of rosemary with a soft thud.
Smiling she bent and picked up the object, the token that Sauron had sent halfway through the void to allow her to make the journey to his world.
It was a small ring, barely large enough for a child's finger. That made sense, Sauron had described to her how the dwarves had abandoned their rings, cast them away as a symbol of their allegiance to him. A few of his servants, those who remained loyal, had found them and now here was evidence before her.
She picked it up gingerly, feeling the banked power rolling off it in waves. It was dirty and tarnished, but she could see and feel the cool metal beneath, script of a curly tongue decorated the band, though it was difficult to make out underneath all of the grime.
Willow stood carefully, as silently as she could. She would have to stand in the middle of the library, the center of the Hellmouth for the next bit. It made her a little uncomfortable that this ritual took place in the center of something so painful and vile, but she had to admit that it did make a certain kind of sense.
Sauron had explained it to her: the Hellmouth was, in and of itself, not evil, just powerful. A center of mystical convergence that would naturally draw the attention of those who would wish to bend it's neutral power to their wicked aims.
Moving slowly both out of necessity and so as not to attract Giles's attention she crept down the stairs and out into the center of the library. She faced south, the direction of change and journey and prepared to slip the ring onto her finger.
"Willow? Willow, what are you doing here?!"
"I'm leaving, Giles," the redhead's gaze was calm and direct. The librarian saw with dismay how thin she was, her eyes burned with feverish intensity in her thin, pale face, the most vivid thing about her was her hair. The brilliant red made a mockery of the deathly pallor of the rest of her.
"Leaving?" He spoke with great care, making no sudden movements as he left his small office and moved nearer to her.
Her expression was serene, "Sauron needs me."
"Willow, WE need you. Buffy needs you, Xander needs you, why would you want to leave?"
"Buffy doesn't need me, she LEFT me. Xander will be fine," she shot down his arguments quietly, with no hint of emotion in the face of his desperate plea.
At last he was within striking distance, "I'm sorry, Willow, you CAN'T leave."
She smiled sadly. "Goodbye, Giles," she slipped the ring onto her finger.
He lunged just as she vanished in a wave of orange-red-gold light and a soundless explosion that knocked him across the room and into one of the many stacks of books that lined the walls.
Tomorrow Xander would find him, unconscious and bleeding underneath a large stack of ancient histories. The two men would have an uneasy relationship for the rest of the teen's tenure on the Hellmouth, bound together yet apart by the babbling redhead that neither could save. Xander would slowly drift away from their group, anger at himself for his helplessness and the blonde Slayer for leaving them forcing him to go a new direction. He would later join the military.
Tomorrow the hospital staff would notify the Rosenbergs that their daughter had vanished from the hospital. There would be a brief search, but most likely the petite redhead had gone and joined one of the gangs that ran rampant through the small community. The Rosenbergs would enjoy great success with their newest series on 'Teen Crises: How to Recognize the Seven Danger Signs.'
Tomorrow Oz would check his e-mail, too late to help his girlfriend. With Willow gone, he would have no reason to stay in Sunnydale for another year, and the Dingoes would enjoy much success in the first of many tours. His hair would remain black in silent mourning for the rest of his life.
Tomorrow Buffy would begin the journey back to Sunnydale, unaware of the tragedy she could not have averted. With the disappearance of the redhead, she would have no close female friends until another Slayer joined them. Together the pair would become the bane of the demonic world, the Chosen Two.
§▬§▬§
On a throne of twisted metal, Sauron smiled benevolently down at his closest advisors and the two small hobbits between them.
"May I have them my lord, please?"
The voice was childishly excited, yet the hobbits shivered at the tone, drawing closer together as they stared at the female who spoke.
Sauron stroked hair that mixed red and black into a chaos that reminded him strongly of blood and death, so perfect for his favorite creation. He nodded once, savoring the feral smile that lit her face, inwardly comparing it to the innocence she had once displayed.
"Pretty blue eyes," she cooed, stroking the shorter of the two hobbits. He shuddered under the touch of her bloody hands, but did not back away. The presence of the Witch-King at his back kept him close to the girlish creature, the lesser of two evils in his mind.
He was a fool.
"Yes, such pretty blue eyes." She grinned, "I think I'll take them out…"
The screams of the hobbits kept the denizens of Mordor entertained for months.
§▬§▬§
A/N: Creepy, huh? Like it, love it, loathe it with the fiery intensity of a thousand hot suns? Lemme know!