Chapter 3: "We'll Just Fix the Place up a Bit"

Proserpexa, Queen of the Mirathian Realm, Mistress of Blades, and one of the most powerful warlords in the demon realms, was bored.

Everything was going according to plan. Her investments on Earth were going well. Production in the Mirathian Realm was comfortably ahead of quota. Even her risky campaign to acquire a senior partnership in the multidimensional law firm of Wolfram and Hart had gone far easier than expected - she'd only had to assassinate two partners and the firm's head of HR, and what was the fun in that?

As she carefully adjusted her pink designer suit, and precisely rearranged the files on her mahogany desk for the fifth time that day, she mused on her situation. She was an executive. Executives needed to crises to face and conquer. Otherwise, what was she there for? How could she justify her salary? (Besides the fact that she owned and had complete control of everything, of course.)

She sighed. She comforted herself with the fact that when faced with a wish for excitement, nature seldom left the wish unanswered for long.

And indeed, just then the priority phone rang. She answered. It was one of her high-ranking economic lackeys, a Subminister of Trade who specialized in mineral resources. He was clearly hyperventilating about something, which was not unusual for a demon given to having spasms over a two percent drop in the price of lodestone. However, this time he sounded unusually panicked, even for him.

"Your highness (huff, huff)... there's a situation... (huff, huff)"

"Breathe, Subminister. What is it? Price of lodestone drop by ten percent? We'll make do, we have the reserves."

"No, your highness. Something unimaginable. (huff, huff)"

"Drop of twenty percent, then?"

"No!... your highness - it's the Morcalthian Mines. (huff, huff)"

"What about them? Sudden increase in the price of Morcalthian ore?"

"Your highness - that's what I've been trying to tell you. (huff) Right now there is no price of Morcalthian ore."

"Make sense, Subminister."

"Your highness (huff, huff) - the mines - they're on fire. All of the guards, all the overseers have been killed."

"What?"

"Your highness, I'm not kidding. View the mines."

Proserpexa grumbled, but cast a quick incantation and a vision of the Morcalthian Mines appeared. A pillar of white and purple flame rose from the main shaft.

Now this was a crisis!

Proserpexa, Chief Executive Officer, swung into action. "Summon my council. Have them meet here in four hours. Find out everything you can. Do anything you need to in order to find out. I assume you understand the definition of anything, Subminister?"

"Yes, your highness."

The phone clicked off. Proserpexa leaned back in her leather chair and grinned.

* * *

William Gray, also known as "Spike":

Sodding hell! I think, for the fifteenth time today. Not that it's done me any good yet, but you never know.

I stretch my legs out on the stone bunk, trying to get some rest. I've only got another half an hour left before another seven-hour shift, shoveling ore into carts as their little work-ass.

I turn my head slightly. Mistake. My "elder" cellmate is staring at me.

"You don't still think I'm going to eat you, do you?"

Jonathan shakes his head. "In this place, you take what you can, and you take it fast. You haven't, which means you won't." He levels his gaze at me, and nods slightly.

"That was supposed to be profound?" I ask, wryly.

"Profound as it gets, in a place like this." He levels his gaze at me, and nods slightly.

So it's yet another attempt by Jonathan Levenson to play the grizzled, battle-hardened veteran. Bugger. I s'pose it might work with some of the tourists, but when you're old enough to be the veteran's great-great- grandfather it's just pissing me off.

At least he's gotten better than last evening, when he spent hours going off about "needing to understand both the way things are, and how they really are," and whether I'm "up to the challenge", "am man enough", and "can handle the truth," over and over. He wouldn't stop. And then when he started going off on how "if I proved worthy, I might get to see the Oracle," and how the "Oracle was our best hope for freedom," I just about stuffed him.

But even that was much better than when I first got to this sodding dimension, when it took me a good half-hour to coax grizzle-boy away from cowering behind his bunk.

So I turn to my "junior" cell-mate instead.

"What do you think, Andrew?"

Andrew Wells quickly lifted his head out of its crouch position. "No, Spike, I certainly don't think you're going to eat us. You're good and sweet and nice souled-Spike now. And I'm good and brave and noble Andrew. And, Jonathan, I'm not going to stab you again or anything, because I'm not being controlled by the First anymore, cause, well, the First is dead. Or at least that was Willow's plan - you know, to destroy the First, but I got beheaded by a Bringer before I could see if it worked. At least I think I got beheaded. It's hard to tell, you know. One minute I was surrounded, the next minute - poof! I'm here! But anyway, I'm not going to stab anybody, and that's the important thing, because I'm good and..."

Jonathan cut him off. "Well then, that's a relief. Rather than an agonizing re-death, I just have centuries of back-breaking labor and torture to keep looking forward to." Now that's the Jonathan I remember, Mr. Bloddy Sotting Sunshine.

"Yeah, mate. Been in tough spots before, but this one just about takes it, " I muse. "It will take years to figure out how to get through these bars and out of this prison. And that's not even considering what we do once we get out of here. I don't even know what sodding hell dimension we're in, and from the sound of it, neither do the two of you. Hopefully, Jonathan's 'Oracle' has thought up some ideas, but that's probably just wishful thinking. Hard to see how it can get any worse."

That pretty much kills the conversation. Jonathan goes back to staring - although at least he's not staring at me anymore - and Andrew has gone back to his crouch. I suppose I should do a better job cheering up my fellow blokes, and otherwise figure out how to play hero, but right now I don't feel heroic. I really don't see how it can get any worse.

Now that's a challenge to the universe. And the universe doesn't like being challenged. Oops.

So a few minutes later, it's no surprise when the steady clanks of the mine cars and the curses of the bloody guards are stopped by the sounds of explosions and the screams of the guards, sounding like they're being shredded.

"It's worse," says Jonathan.

Right outside the bars of our cell is a cast-iron doorway leading to the mine passages. At least there was, until it explodes into shrapnel. Following the metal bits is a burning demon with the speed of a bullet. It promptly hits the back wall of the outside corridor and explodes into dust. Following burning dust-boy is an arc of white flames.

Sodding hell. Didn't I say "Oops?"

And immediately after the flame fountain is the thing that caused it - sodding hell! It's Red!

But I'm left speechless. It's Red as I've never seen her before. Her hair is jet black, not fire red. Her arms are raised, and twin jets of fire rise from her hands. On her face, neck, and hands, her veins have swollen and broken, leaking black oil where blood should be. In a few places, her skin looks charred, almost to the bone. And her eyes are jet black. Any green in them - any spark of humanity - is long gone.

Oh, I heard a lot about "Dark Willow." I could see it in Red's eyes all last year. Something hurt her, ripped her up, made her scared of her own shadow. I hated it, beyond the fact that we could have really used her power. Sure, the witch got too cocky, but whatever happened to her - completely broke her. No one deserves that, definitely not Red.

But what was described to me as "Dark Willow" was one-tenth of what's facing me now. I've been in bad spots before, but nothing like this.

She turns to face us. There's nowhere to run. Oh, well. Didn't want to be a work-ass, anyway. Kind of liked the idea of being a hero, especially given the last century or so, but that's not working out, either.

The two blokes take it well. They don't cry or scream. They just say a few, appropriate, parting words.

"We're toast," says Andrew.

"Extra crispy," says Jonathan.

But before we're barbequed, Dark Willow speaks to us, with a voice low, growling, demonic, and seemingly lost in thought. "Free the nice slaves. Kill the mean demons," she flatly intones.

She waves her arms, and the cell's bars melt into slag. She turns on her heel and walks out of the corridor, back into the mine passages. A few moments later, the explosions and screaming start up again.

"Or, we could escape just by waltzing out the door, and following Red. Bugger!" I exclaim.

"Aieee!" *Boom!* goes a mine captain down the hall.

Jonathan nods, slowly. "But later."

* * *

Four hours to the minute after the Subminister of Trade's crisis-alerting phone call, the members of the Mirathian Council, the executives of the Ministry of Trade, and several partners from Wolfram and Hart assembled in Proserpexa's executive conference room.

Proserpexa looked at her board. Most of the members were quaking, but only slightly. That meant they had failed to get the situation under control, but had made significant progress.

"So, what do we know?" asked the demon ruler.

"Much," said the Subminister of Trade, who had managed to stop hyperventilating, "but the more we learn, the more disturbing it gets. At 1:05 pm yesterday afternoon, in the common time, the guards in Cell Block 5 of the Morcalthian Mines were showing their famed hospitality to some newly resurrected slaves."

The room broke into nervous laughter.

"At that point, things began to go terribly wrong. One of the prisoners began a one-slave war against the prison guards and managers."

Proserpexa eyed the Subminister critically. "So? Some of those wretches are trying to rebel all the time. Occasionally, they even manage to destroy a guard. Why would this incident be any different?"

The Subminister breathed deeply. "Because, your highness, most slaves aren't able to incinerate all the guards in the cell block with fireballs and psionic blasts, as this prisoner did."

He placed a crystal on the table, and quickly spoke an incantation. A three-dimensional vision appeared to the assembled council. It showed a squad of Mine infantry charging into the main chamber of the cell block. The squad was hit promptly by a volley of fireballs, causing every last member of the squad to explode into flames. In just a few seconds, the soldiers were reduced to ash.

The "Board of Directors" collectively gasped.

The Subminister continued. "By 1:07, all the guards in Cell Block 5 had been destroyed. The Mine overseers detected the disturbance quickly, and sent a company of Guardians into the chamber."

The Subminister spoke another incantation, and a new vision appeared. This one showed over a one hundred heavily armed demons, far stronger than the initial infantry, facing off in a fighting formation against an unseen foe. Seconds later, a horizontal energy pulse sliced every member of the company neatly in half. Two hundred demon chunks fell to the floor, and promptly burst into flame.

"They were unsuccessful," said the Subminister. Proserpexa nodded.

The Subminister continued. "Over the next thirty-five minutes, the slave managed to fight her way to the mine's central tower, freeing most of the slaves in the process."

* * *

"Rack:"

Total bummer of a day. At least I got some dark mojo to a few slaves. Hey, anything I can do to help maintain morale. And if I can do a few favors that I can call in later, so much the better. Too bad the slaves I connected with today were so... boring.

Not like Strawberry. Now that was a girl. Sure, she killed me and sent me here, but it was totally Bolero, man. Totally Bo-ler-o! Best thirty seconds of my lives. I mean it, man.

Cassie claims Strawberry is actually coming soon to save us. Prophecy Girl has been with it before, but I think this time she's full of crap. I mean, she might be right, but I can't afford to have any hope like that. At least not right now.

Damn. Now I'm thinking about Strawberry again. I can feel her, taste her aura. The darkness... the power... I can almost feel it for real, man. Yeah, man, it's like so real...

It is real. Strawberry! She's here! I can feel her!

Oh man, oh man! After her girlfriend bit it, I thought that was a surge of dark magic. But it's nothing like this. Never felt anything like it... she's tearing the mines apart.

I can hear the screams. I can feel the flames. Oh, yeah.

There's a boom and a crash, and the metal door down the hall is blown off its hinges. Soon after, Strawberry is standing in front of me. Violet flames are shooting out of her head and arms, and her flesh is totally charred. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I'm gonna die again. And I can't wait. I thought last time was the best possible, but it's nothing like this - and she hasn't even done anything to me yet.

Strawberry speaks to me, with a voice low, growling, totally demonic. Oh, yeah. "Free the nice slaves. Kill the mean demons," she flatly intones.

She stares at me for a minute with those oh-yeah black eyes. I grin and lick my lips. Oh, yeah, Strawberry, I've been a baad boy...

But then she lets out an almost-pout. "Confused now," she whines. "Try again later." She turns on her heel and leaves. My jaw drops to the floor.

Bummer of a day. But what a woman!

* * *

The Subminister continued. "After reaching the central tower, the slave then fought her way up the central tower to the chamber of the Lord of the Mine himself. She destroyed absolutely everything in her path. Mine Guardians, war beasts, overseers - no matter how powerful they were, they were all annihilated."

He gestured towards the crystal again, but Proserpexa waved him off. "We all get the general idea," she said.

The Subminister nodded. "At 1:43 pm in the afternoon, then, the slave burst into the chamber of the Lord of the Mine. As you might have expected, the dark energies the slave managed to wield, were... unprecedented. Not surprisingly, they consumed the slave's body, and probably her mind."

* * *

The Lord of the Mine's chamber marked the tallest point in the Realm of the Morcalthian Mines. From its crystal walls, one could see most of the Realm - the central Crown of mountains that were the home of the Mines, the gentle hills, plains, and rivers encircling the Crown in a band over two hundred miles in width, and, off in the distance, the Rim of mountains that literally marked the End of the World. The Lord of the Mine's world, for over two hundred years.

At least it had been the Lord of the Mine's world until half an hour ago.

The Lord of the Mine, readied his battle axe, and held his twenty-foot tall mass in as fierce a fighting position as he could manage. He kept his focus on his rage towards the slave who had somehow managed to destroy so much, and who was so close to taking away everything. It kept his mind off the fear.

The spiral staircase in the middle of the chamber, made of the finest marble, had marked the Lord's daily ascent to power and riches for centuries. Now, something else was ascending the staircase.

There was a blasting noise and an inhuman scream, and a thing suddenly appeared in the Lord's chamber - a skeleton with jet black eyes, and bones covered in black oil. The thing dripped a steady black rain onto the carpeting, and where the drops fell, the carpeting smoked. Surrounding the thing was a shifting pillar of crackling white and violet flame.

The Lord of the Mine fell back to the two things it knew best. Fearsome rage and devotion to production.

"You!" he roared. "You've ruined everything! Do you know what we're doing to have to do to make quota?"

The thing was oblivious to the demon's words. Instead, it spoke with a monotone, chilling voice. "I'm broken. I saved the people, and killed the mean demons, but it was too much."

"You're broken? When I'm done with you..." shouted the Lord of the Mine.

The thing continued. "The people told me I could call on her and she'd fix me..."

"Fix? Why, I'm going to torture you for one hundred years..."

"...and when I called on her, she answered," said the thing. "She told me she'd make me a princess who can fly."

The Lord of the Mine's mind reeled in confusion. "Princess? Talk some sense! Just wait until you hear how bad I'm going to torture you!"

"I always wanted to be a princess," said the thing. "Even before I wanted to marry Xander and have a little white house with a picket fence and 2.1 apple-cheeked kids."

"Enough!" The demon dealt with its panic the way it knew. It readied its battle axe.

"All I need to do is take your power and let her rise through me," said the skeleton.

The Lord of the Mine focused his rage. "Fine! Torture for a thousand years, then!" With every bit of his power, the Lord swung at the thing - and was frozen in mid-motion. The thing placed its dripping, skeletal hand on his chest.

"Bored now," said the thing that had been Willow Rosenberg. "I want to fly."

And the Lord of the Mine thought nothing more. Had he been able to perceive anything, he would have seen his body exploding in a cloud of crimson energy, which the skeleton promptly absorbed.

For a few seconds, the skeleton stood motionless. All stood still except for the flickering pillar of white, violet, and now crimson flame surrounding it. Then, the skeleton itself wavered, became a cloud itself, and expanded, becoming ever larger and darker. When the cloud reached 50 feet across, it began to take form, vague at first, but becoming ever more defined.

A few moments later, a dragon stood where the skeleton had been, covered in intricately-beveled emerald scales. Wings on her back fluttered briefly, then opened wide, covered in translucent ruby scales that shown in the afternoon sun of the realm's twin suns. The dragon opened her eyes, which were still coal black.

The dragon lifted her head and let loose first a deafening roar, then a blast of white heat that shattered an entire wall of glass. She leapt out of the remains of the Lord of the Mine's chamber, and soared skyward as if caught on a massive updraft. A few minutes later, the dragon had flown over the central mountain Crown and was soaring over the Eastern Plain. The creature seemingly had no thought, no will, other than to fly to end of the realm.

But in mid-flight, the dragon's eyes wavered and changed, from solid black to a familiar, albeit larger, green. The dragon rolled her head and blinked her eyes a few times, as if waking from a deep sleep. Then she made a terrible gasping noise.

[What have I done?] thought Willow.

And the great dragon plummeted to the ground, thousands of feet below.

* * *

The Mirathian Council was speechless. It fell to their ruler to break the silence.

"So what you're saying is that the slave completely assimilated the energy of the Lord of the Mine, then spontaneously underwent a demonic ascension and became the living incarnation of the dragon Arthenia? Unbelievable. And you say this slave was initially human, right?"

"Yes your highness - she was," said the Subminister, with surprising strength of will. "And I swear to you that's what happened. I have experienced the remembrances of some of the few guards who survived, first- hand."

Proserpexa actually smiled at the executive demon. "I believe you. And - you said it was a 'her', right?"

"Yes."

"I have," the ruler began, "come in contact with a human who was able to muster this much power before. Let me have the remembrances of the slave herself."

The Subminister gasped. "Your highness - are you sure that's a good idea? The few servants who we've had try to experience those remembrances were killed almost immediately."

"I thank you for your concern," said Proserpexa, gently. "Really. However, my guess is that the unfortunate victims tried to remember the slave right before she ascended - at the peak of her power - which would be suicide. I will access the very first remembrances. Besides, I am far more powerful than a Ministry of Trade servant."

The Subminister nodded reluctantly and handed a solid black crystal to Proserpexa. She grasped the crystal, spoke an incantation - and immediately went into a seizure.

Before the Council could react, however, the ruler regained control. She cut through the surprisingly great shockwave of power to focus on the source of that power. And, she saw what she expected - a familiar looking young woman with jet black hair, alabaster skin, and jet black eyes.

Proserpexa let the crystal drop to the floor. "Yes, yes, it's her!" she shouted, excitedly.

"Who is it, your highness?"

"I've been expecting great things from that girl." And the ruler laughed with glee. Here, at last, was a real challenge.

"Who?" said the Subminister, still confused.

* * *

The mighty green dragon lay sprawled out on the ground, in the center of an impact crater dug into the soft earth of grain fields. The dragon's eyes were closed, her wings bent and twitching slightly.

A crowd of humanoid demons had formed some distance away from the dragon, eyeing the creature warily. Soft but heated whispers argued over whether the dragon was friend or foe, and whether the dragon should be helped or not, with indecision being the only decision reached.

The stalemate was broken when a small child bolted from the crowd towards the head of the dragon.

"Baby! Come back here!" the child's mother shouted.

The child stood next to one of the dragon's closed eyes. Despite the size comparison between the dragon's eye alone and the child, the youngster was unfazed. "I'm not scared, Momma," said the young boy. "It came from the sky, and it saved us."

The eye fluttered open, and promptly focused on the blue-horned demon child standing a few feet away.

"Hi! I'm..." said the child, then made a sequence of clicking noises. "Who are you?"

The dragon blinked a few times, as if trying to remember. Then, a low deep sound came from the enormous creature.

"Willow... my name is Willow."