Queen Of Darkness

Chapter Five: Sunnydale Mornings

She looked out from the platform above the factory floor, seeking through the chaos below. Mere moments before she had been grinning like the Cheshire Cat, standing at the Master's side, glorying in his hour of triumph. Then it had all become a swirl of dust and blood. The Slayer, bane of the undead, had somehow found out what they had been planning, and had crashed into the factory, sowing the final death on every side.

She couldn't concentrate on what was going on, her mind was clouded with confusion and the whisperings of the four voices that had haunted her since the day she died. They had been keeping quiet lately, murmuring to each other in the back of her mind, their strange language barely audible. She had liked that, assumed that it was a sign that her unstable mind was finally adjusting to its nonliving condition. She should have known better. The voices always got the quietest before something very bad happened.

She saw Xander explode in a cloud of ash, his final scream cutting through the strange whisperings and forcing her into action. She found herself on the floor of the factory, breaking human necks wherever she found them. Normally, even such a crowd of people would pose no danger to her; the Master himself had trained her in the art of death. At her best she could cut a bloody swath through a legion of cross and stake-wielding humans, draining those that got too close even as she laid waste to those that didn't. Right now, though, she was not at her best.

The voices had begun to scream at her, as if they could feel her world collapsing and were crying out against it. Their strange words ringing through her, making her movements sloppy, and distracting her senses from detecting the danger that was even now making its way to where she was. Almost unconsciously she began to mumble along with the voices, trying desperately to make some sense out of what they were telling her.

"Vamer-Ca t'shosen vre-alar," she whispered, forcing the unfamiliar sounds through her lips. "Corvedra es carathan es mordr," she absently shoved a human to the side, for some reason, speaking the strange words seemed to calm the voices. One by one they faded out, dwindling from four to three, and then to two, and then to one. She could feel her hands begin to tremble, always there had been four, and now there was only one.

She smiled, unheeding of the loud thumping of the heartbeat coming towards her. At the last minute she looked up, her muddled senses finally notifying her mind of the danger. She stared into the beautiful green eyes of her doom, dark purpose clouding his otherwise stoic features. He was only a step away, and her mind was still working far too slowly to stop him. She knew that she would not survive the next few seconds, and though it annoyed her, she accepted it.

Everything froze, the entire universe seeming to grind to a halt, holding the very instant before her final death. She closed her eyes, feeling the moment stretch for eternity. She felt as if her entire body had been wrapped in ice, the cold tendrils of a strange magic flowing deep into her. When she opened her eyes again, she was the only thing moving in the factory. As she watched, the entire room began to darken, the light seeming to flow right out of it. In an instant that lasted forever, the factory was plunged into darkness.

It didn't last long, though, because almost immediately she noticed a new figure, glowing with a light as pure as freshly fallen snow. In this radiance she could see that she and the new figure were alone now, facing off against each other across the expanse of the dark factory floor. She stared into the light, seeing the figure within, studying the familiar lines of a body she knew all to well. Her gaze intensified as she looked upon the face of the figure in the light, and jade green eyes met dead black.

In the blink of those eyes the world changed, and the dream became something . . . more. She stared out now for the eyes of the figure in the light, the living counterpart to the darkness that now faced her. She felt the light shining from her being, and knew that it was right, for only a being of purest light could hope to master the deepest Darkness.

The Queen of Darkness stared at the vampire that wore her features, her black eyes studying every detail. Her undead twin stared back at her, cocking her head to the side and letting a cruel smile play across her too-red lips. "Merkan t'shrak vamer-ca," the vampire whispered, the dream making the words easily audible to her human ears. "Karest onee lathranii tosh-varen Willow." The mention of her name amongst the words that were little more than gibberish made her shudder, something about the strange language struck a chord in her in a way she really did not like.

"What do you want?" She asked.

The vampire shook her head. "It's not about me, not yet. This is about you, Willow, and about what you have set in motion."

"Then this is a warning?"

The vampire's smile widened. "Yes, and no. This is part of what is happening, the reason why we are here, for this is not one of your memories."

"Our minds are becoming one?"

"No, simply beginning to mesh. We can never truly become one, not any more."

"And that is the warning? That now we can see into each other's thoughts and memories?"

The vampire shook her head once more, the motion making her shoulder-length red hair float about her face as if it were in slow motion. "Vre-la chorestul k'tranna. The warning is this, Willow: the Heavens are bright and the Hells are dark, and the Earth lies in shadow. That which can exist in all three at once is blessed, and that which is the master of all three is impervious to all who dwell within them."

She frowned. "What kind of warning is that? It sounds more like you're trying to tell me that I can't be defeated!"

A laugh rang out through the stillness of the factory, but it hadn't come from either of the opposing figures. The vampires knowing grin was cold. "That wasn't the whole warning. Remember, Queen of Darkness, some things existed before there was light and before there was darkness," and with that, the dream exploded.

* * *

Willow sat bolt upright in bed. Again. She had gone back to sleep after contacting 'Lorne, knowing that she would need her rest for what might lie ahead. She hadn't expected a dream like that to happen to her twice in the same night. She could still feel the aftereffects of the strange vision, the strange tingling which told her that what had just happened had been magic.

She looked towards the window, and noticed with some surprise exactly how light it was out. A quick glance at the clock showed her that it was nearly noon, and that the strange dream had kept her asleep far longer than she had wanted. Sliding out from under the covers, she reflexively reached out with her mind and touched her power source. Th rush of energy that accompanied that touch only served to remind her of the strange energy that the dream had been permeated with.

She showered slowly, using the warm jet of hot water to massage the aftereffects of the dream from her muscles. Absently, her left hand crept up to caress the bright violet gem that hung between her breasts. The gem responded to her touch by letting off a soft light and making a sound like the chiming of a thousand tiny bells somewhere in the distance. Willow smiled at this, comforted by the sound and warm glow.

After she had finished showering she dressed quickly and headed downstairs. She found a note pinned to the front door. Buffy had apparently not wanted to wake her after her nightmare, and had gone over to the Magic Box for some training time. Willow was a little annoyed at her friend for letting her sleep in, but couldn't really fault her for wanting to be helpful.

She stepped into the kitchen; absently yawning out the command word that magically set the various cooking implements to their predetermined work. She pulled out a plate and glass from the cupboard, setting them on the kitchen's island and pulling up a seat to await her breakfast. The juice was delivered in short order and the smell of sizzling bacon and cooking eggs nearly made her sigh in contentment.

Still, the dreams had disturbed her, and her morning could not be as perfect as she would have liked. She would have to contact several people and explain to them the new situation, and do it quickly. She wanted Buffy, Xander and Anya could be kept out of this, and would make sure that they were not called on unless absolutely necessary. First, however, there was one person that she definitely needed to see.

Her bacon and scrambled eggs floated over from the stove and slid themselves onto her plate. She picked at them for a few minutes, barely savoring their excellent flavor while she contemplated the meeting to come. It was not going to be easy, there were always far to many unknowns when dealing with the person she needed to see. It was going to take all of her concentration to simply make sense of what she would be told.

Pushing away from the island counter, Willow snapped her fingers in the air, and the remains of her half-eaten breakfast vanished in a puff of smoke. After a moment's contemplation, she decided to do one thing before she headed out. Holding one hand out, the cordless phone three rooms away and on the other end of the house snapped out of it's cradle and flew to her waiting fingers. "Amy," Willow said, and the phone dialed itself, seeking out any phone that the other Witch was near. After a few rings there was a click, followed by the unmistakable voice of Amy Madison.

"Hello?" The former rat said timidly. Willow had probably caught her away from any of her personal phones, forcing her to answer from a payphone or some such.

"Amy, I need you to do something for me," Willow said, her tone beguilingly cheery.

"Anything, my Queen!" Amy said immediately, the words coming out as little more than a squeak. She was terrified of Willow, and had been ever since she had witnessed what the red-haired Witch had done to the Warlock named Rack. Willow couldn't blame her for that.

"I need you to call for an assembly. I want all the chief demons, witches, sorcerers and whoever else you can find that wields some form of authority to be there."

"Where . . . Where do you want them to be?" Amy asked.

Willow thought for a moment. "How's work on the Cathedral going?" She asked.

There was a short pause at the other end, and Willow was guessing that it meant the work was not going well at all. "We're a little behind schedule, but the main enchantments are already up, and the construction work is almost finished, thanks to Xander's company. It should be ready by the end of the week."

"Then that's where we'll hold the assembly," Willow said. "Make sure that there are only enough seats for the really high-end guys. You know, the kind that we have to give at least a little respect to. I don't want anyone who is totally under my heel to be given any sort of slack on this one, okay?"

"Yes, my Queen!" Amy said timidly. Willow rolled her eyes, she was glad that the other witch knew her place, but the constant groveling wore on her patience sometimes.

"Meetings at ten sharp. Oh, and pack your bags, Amy. After tonight you're going on a little road trip for me," Willow hung up before Amy could make a response. A snap of the wrist sent the phone hurtling back to its cradle. Willow took a steadying breath as she reached the door of the house. The upcoming assembly of her demonic and magical forces was only a minor consideration. She could have them all lapping at her feet in no time. No, the person who she needed to see now was what was worrying her, and she could only hope that this meeting would end well.

* * *

The crypt was surprisingly dark, even considering what its occupant was. Willow remembered a time when it had been bright and cheery, it had been carefully selected for the way that it was well lit with no direct sunlight ever finding its way in, a time when the previous occupant had not been an enemy. Curtains had been drawn over the windows that lined the spacious tomb, throwing the interior into a mass of shadows and darkness.

Willow closed the door carefully behind her; she didn't want any of the bright light coming from outside to disturb the crypt's occupant. She stepped deeper into the tomb, trying not to shiver at the strange and twisted world she suddenly found herself immersed in. She had faced darkness, and she had faced evil. She could stand those, she could revel in them and make them do as she wished, but what she found in this crypt was not simply evil, nor was it simply darkness. It was chaos. It was insanity.

"My toes whispered you would come," a voice said out of a corner darker than most at the other end of the crypt. The accent was English, but somewhat unidentifiable as it's owner had lived long enough to pick up more than a dozen languages, diluting the pure original. "But they couldn't decide on whether it was you or something else. I asked them what you could be if you weren't you, but they whispered the answer, and my toes are too far away from my ears for me to hear them clearly."

"Drusilla," Willow said, acknowledging the owner of the voice.

The vampiress stepped forward, pulling out of the deepest shadows and into a small patch of light which allowed Willow to see her clearly. She was dressed in a white lace dress, most likely stolen from some bridal shop, and was clutching a small doll to her chest. Drusilla had been a beautiful woman in life, and undeath had only enhanced her beauty with the knowledge gained from over a century of seducing men to their deaths. The only thing that marred her was the horrible insanity, which Angelus had inflicted upon her before turning her into what she was now. "I dreamed about you, Willow," she said, her features and tone far too innocent for one as twisted as her. "You were smiling and happy and jumping all round me like we were playing. The other children used to play that game with me too, but they would hit me with sticks and call me nasty names. You weren't hitting me, but your eyes were wrong. They lied at me and laughed at me and I couldn't make them stop," she was shaking her head, and seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Willow frowned. Obviously Drusilla had had a prophetic dream, and it had somehow featured the other Willow, but the rest of what she was saying seemed only gibberish to the powerful witch. "Tell me, Drusilla, tell me about the dream. Start at the beginning"

Drusilla pouted and hugged her doll closer, but after a moment she began to talk. "I dreamed first about daddy and my Spike. They were talking about you, but it wasn't you. I told Spike to stop acting so cross, as it was upsetting daddy, but then I saw that it wasn't daddy at all, but the horrible Angel-beast, and my Spike was being all confused by the lying electricity in his head. Then you were dancing all around me, and I kept trying to tell you that the ball was not until later, that you had come too early, but your lying eyes kept laughing at me. All crimson like fire, slashing at the air and spitting like naughty cats!" Drusilla growled to illustrate her point.

Willow motioned for her to go on. "And then what happened?"

Drusilla shook her head. "You don't want to hear the rest, oh no. Horrible words, words that make you dead and then not dead. Words that should never be now, because they were before."

Willow didn't understand half of what Drusilla was saying, but all the same she had to know. "Tell me what you saw," she said sternly. Drusilla shook her head emphatically, and made a 'zip' gesture over her closed lips. Willow, however, was not going to take no for an answer. "Tell me!" She snarled.

Drusilla retreated back in to the shadows, but Willow could still feel her eyes staring out of the darkness. "She wants to hear the words, but she won't like them! No! No! But if she wants them, then I won't be able to keep them from her. What do I do? What do I do?" She sounded so much like a lost little girl right then, Willow knew that she was on the verge of closing up entirely.

"Look, Drusilla," she said. "Don't worry. I won't hold it against you, no matter what you say. I have to know. What. Did. You. See?"

Drusilla stepped back into the light, and their eyes met. The vampire nodded sadly, and then spoke. "Vamer-Ca t'shosen vre-alar," she said. The words smacked into Willow like a physical blow, forcing her to take a step backwards. "Corvedra es carathan es mordr. Merkan t'shrak vamer-ca. Karest onee lathranii tosh-varen."

Willow's eyes were as wide as they could go. "What?" She cried, and Drusilla shrank back.

"I told her she wouldn't like them, but she made me speak the words anyway. It's not my fault," the vampire frantically whispered to herself.

The Queen of Darkness, her eyes filling with the darkest of magic, stalked towards the undead woman. "What do they mean, Drusilla?" She demanded.

The vampiress pulled back even further. "Miss Edith knows, but she won't say, and when she won't say then no one can know. I asked the grey man, but he said that memory does not reach what light has never touched and what darkness has never known."

Willow stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze turning inward. "What light has never touched and what darkness has never known," she repeated. "Now doesn't that sound familiar. Sounds almost like 'before there was light and before there was darkness', now doesn't it," her eyes snapped back to the cowering vampiress. "Thank you Drusilla, Childe of Angelus of the Order of Aurelius. I have to go now, but I'll be back at around nine to take you to an Assembly I'm holding at my new Cathedral. Until then sit tight, play with your dolls, ramble insanely or whatever you do when I'm not here," with that, the Queen of Darkness turned and left the crypt.

Several minutes after the door shut, Drusilla pulled the doll away from her chest and looked at it somberly. "You were right," she told the bundle of cloth and porcelain. "She didn't ask about what said those nasty, nasty words. We can't tell her at all, that would be bad for all of us. I know you'll never tell her anything, but I don't think that I'll be able to keep this a secret. The moon has dropped its dust all over my head and I think that my hair will go all silver like an old woman's if it doesn't wash out. Shh, shh. Don't say anything, it will be safer that way," she clutched the doll once more to her chest. "I'm afraid for daddy and Spike, even if he is the Angel-beast and my Spike is all confused. They're right next to it and don't even know it. But mostly I'm afraid of what might happen if it finds the Key. Where would we go when there's nowhere left to go to?" And Drusilla sat down and rocked back and forth, clutching her doll and asking the same question over and over again.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, but I had a lot of work to do since the holidays and didn't get around to writing much. I should be doing more writing soon, but as I say on my profile page, I am a SLOW writer, so don't be expecting anything too soon.