Title: Waiting Room

Author: mispel

E-mail: mispel@email.com

Rating: PG13

Summary: Future Willow meets Drusilla in a strange place.

Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox own everything.

Feedback: Feedback would be appreciated.

Waiting Room

Drusilla's hands looked like two bugs as she made them crawl down her skinny legs. Willow shuddered. Like the place wasn't creepy enough.

"So, how long have you been here?" Willow said in the tone of one just trying to make conversation.

Drusilla looked up without surprise or recognition.

"My fingers stopped growing. You shouldn't water them, you know," she spoke as if Willow had been there all along.

"Still insane then? Must be nice."

Willow sat across from her on the other bench. She checked under it and in the dark corners. This time there were no tiny demons waiting for the chance to latch onto her.

"Are you sure you're supposed to be here?" Willow asked hoping that she might get the waiting room to herself.

"No one is supposed to be here. Shhhh."

Drusilla had raised a finger to her lips, but when she saw it in front of her face it distracted her and she crooked and uncrooked it. Willow thought she could hear a tiny popping sound as she did that.

Willow started to rub her temples. There was no use getting irritated, she was empty. As she sighed and looked down, defeated, she noticed Drusilla's bare and dirty feet under her long black dress.


"It's not the worst choice. I've worn some shoes, let's just say walking barefoot would have been easier on my feet."

Willow had decided that the sound of her own voice was preferable to any noise she might hear in this place, so she just kept talking.

"I don't know why the foot fetish is so common. I mean, feet, they're so utilitarian. Sure they can be pretty. But only girl feet are pretty. Maybe that explains it. I don't think anyone was swooning over Spike's black toenail polish."

"My Spike," Drusilla interrupted, surprising Willow.

She didn't even think Drusilla was listening.

"He's dead now," Willow told her.

Drusilla started to wail pitiably.

"Stop that! God! You're already giving me a headache. Lots of people are dead. You're dead. What's the big deal?"

Willow was surprised by Drusilla's reaction. It had been her impression that their thing was purely one sided. What did she know.

"Spike gave a little, red wagon to Miss Edith. And made the minions pull her in it all night and all day," Drusilla said through tears sounding more like a little girl than before, "Red is Miss Edith's favorite color."

Drusilla held an imaginary doll in the crook of her arm. Then she did something Willow couldn't figure out. Willow shook her head as she almost had it. That wasn't something she wanted to be thinking about. She had enough of her own nightmares.

"Those red wagons. Radio Flyer? What does it have to do with radios or flying? Nothing. Why can't people give things reasonable names?"

Willow looked at the other end of the room not really listening to herself. She couldn't hear a single sound from behind the door. It wasn't natural even for this place.

"Flies in my head," Drusilla whispered.

"That makes it OK then."

"Buzzing."

"Oh, those flies."

"Flies are eating your bones, witch. I can see them."

Suddenly Drusilla's voice had gotten quite threatening making Willow's head snap back, fast.

"Yuck. Cut it out. You're making my skin crawl," Willow said, shaking off her fear.

She stood up. There was nothing much Drusilla could do to her. It was just this place and being empty that made her nervous.

Now that she was standing, Willow had the urge to pace, but resisted.

"I can hear Miss Edith crying. He'll help me find her." Drusilla pointed to the quiet door.

"Then you better go first," Willow whispered, her turn to sound vaguely threatening.

"Miss Edith's hungry," Drusilla hissed in turn.

"Well she won't find any food here," Willow said pointedly.

Vampires knew not to bother with her. But Drusilla was crazy and Willow didn't want to try and fight her off in her condition.

Drusilla stared hard at Willow then at the door. She closed her eyes and nodded.

"He can't help me. You'll help me find Miss Edith. When you're not empty any more."

"Sure," Willow said, relieved.

She looked at the quiet door again, keeping Drusilla in her field of vision.

"It's been forever."

"You can't know when it's forever. There are no clocks. You're just guessing," Drusilla said sounding almost rational.

Willow knew that time moved differently in places like this. Sometimes a day passed. That one time it was more than a week. She had to be patient. There was a way these things had to go. She had to wait her turn. When he gave her a taste, she wouldn't even have to try, and all of his magic would go into her. It was its natural place now.

But she had to wait. She had used up more than she expected. It's not like you can measure it out.

She had to wait for the door to open and for him to start things. Like siphoning gas. He just had to get it going.

"It's taking forever."

Willow sat down again.

"You'll help me find Miss Edith."

Drusilla was combing the imaginary doll's hair.

"Sure."

She knew there must be a spell to keep the sounds in. But these kinds of places didn't usually bother. Who cared about screams or anything. When you are empty, you wait your turn.

"I don't have a number. So my number can't be called," Drusilla said.

"Right. There should be a system. Maybe a receptionist. And one of those signs, '#58 Now Being Served'."

"Miss Edith is calling for me."

The wait and Drusilla were getting to Willow. She stood up and paced. The whole length of the room and back.

"My Spike paced. This way and that. This way and that. He was my little prince."

"Yeah, a chain smoking, obsessive, little prince."

"I was his sick, black rose."

"All thorny for him," Willow said absently.

It wasn't like Drusilla was going to be judging her for the pun, or even listening. Still, humor the crazy vampire, Willow told herself and almost laughed.

She looked at Drusilla again. People were like clocks. She would see them and know that time had passed. Not vampires. Drusilla was the same as always.

Willow still thought of herself as a young woman, or even a young girl. And if she wanted to, she could look like one. Once she refueled, of course.

Willow looked at the door. Without magic she felt deaf and blind. Doors were closed to her, walls were solid, rules applied to her. She had almost forgotten that there were other ways to know things. She closed her eyes and just stood still and listened. There should be sounds. More than the rustling of Drusilla's dress. Or her cooing to the invisible doll.

"How long has it been?" Willow said sharply.

She opened her eyes and looked at Drusilla.

"Has your doll turned to dust?"

"Miss Edith! She needs her Mommy!"

Willow walked to the door. A bad move, normally. You didn't interrupt in these places. No barging in. You waited to be called.

Willow opened the door. She felt a thrill as always but then it was gone. This place was empty, like her. There was a body on the floor. Its neck broken.

"You didn't bite him," Willow observed.

"Blood is all sour," Drusilla said from behind her.

"Magic does that. I kind of like it. Keeps your kind off my neck."

"Miss Edith likes sweets, but she can't have any."

Willow figured that she must have surprised him. He was probably caught off guard by the craziness. Idiot. Now he was useless to her.

Willow looked around. There were a few books and jars, not enough to bother with usually, but she was desperate. She took a book at random and started to read a spell.

"You'll help me find Miss Edith.".

"Sure thing."

Willow kept reading, the sound of the words charged the air, like little clouds of static. She breathed and took it in and kept reading. Then the flow started and she took in all the magic in the room. It wasn't much. She turned to Drusilla but she couldn't waste any of it on her.

"Let's go find Miss Edith," Willow said.

Willow rolled her eyes as Drusilla skipped out of the room in front of her.