Title: The History of the End of the World
Author: mispel
E-mail: mispel@email.com
Rating: PG
Summary: Willow tells Drusilla a story. Third part in the Waiting Room series.
Spoilers: for Chosen
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox own everything.
Feedback: Feedback is very much appreciated.
The History of the End of the World
Willow had chosen this house simply because it was almost intact. Up and down the street, the roofs had caved in on perfectly lined up houses. They gaped like open moths, their broken walls like teeth.
Drusilla moved in and out of the different rooms. She looked under the rotting furniture and into the holes.
"There aren't any more rats, Drusilla, you ate them all."
"Kitty."
"You ate the mangy, disgusting cat too. Try and settle down."
Willow sat sideways on the bed and leaned against the wall. The metal headboard had rusted and it creaked if she moved. So she was very still.
Drusilla sat on the floor in front of her and arranged her dress to drape over the dust and dirt.
"Tell me a story," she asked looking eager.
Willow had lots of stories. Drusilla had even more. But Willow sure as hell didn't want to hear them.
"Once upon a time..."
Drusilla clapped.
"There was a slayer."
"Booo!"
Drusilla pouted.
"Do you want to hear the story?"
"I want a nice story. Not a story about Barffy"
Willow laughed. It just kind of escaped in a little burst. It surprised her and she stifled it quickly.
"Anyway, there was one slayer in all the world. Then she died and Xander brought her back to life."
"Bad Xander!"
"And then there were two slayers."
"I know this story. I slashed her throat," Drusilla said, her eyes shining, "That one was a slayer too many. I fixed it."
"Yes, that one," Willow admitted.
Drusilla laughed, pleased.
"But there were still two slayers. Until one day every potential who might have been a slayer became a slayer."
Looking at Willow suspiciously, Drusilla frowned.
"You did that. You made slayers. You meddled and you mixed. And you took snippets and snaps..."
Drusilla stood up and dusted off her dress.
"OK, Drusilla. Yes, I did that. Now do you want your story?"
As she stood over Willow, Drusilla stared down at her angrily.
"The story stinks like corpses."
"I thought you liked corpses."
"Only fresh ones - smell like lilies."
Drusilla smiled at the thought and stepped back.
"Well, I made all potentials into slayers. One of these potentials had been very sick from a very bad disease. Everyone thought she would die. But when she became a slayer she got healthy. Just like that." Willow snapped her fingers.
"It was a miracle," Drusilla said sarcastically.
"Then it was years later, when everyone got sick. Remember?"
"All the people." Drusilla sounded sad.
"Yes. They got sick and they died."
"You did something again."
"Not yet. Lots of humans died. And the demons tried to take advantage of the sick humans."
Drusilla laughed.
"There's nothing to be happy about. Anyway, the demons tried to wipe them out and take over the world."
"But we need them," Drusilla protested.
"Yes you do, told you not to be so quick with the happy. So all the witches got together to expel the demons. We made a big circle that reached all over the world and opened all the hellmouths."
"Like when you open a door to let the fly out?"
"And instead, more flies came in."
"They were waiting."
"Yeah. We couldn't finish the spell."
"You threw a drowning man a brick," Drusilla giggled.
"Yes, I... we messed up," Willow shifted uncomfortably and the bed squeaked.
"The demons had their day. They cut and rent and slit and crushed. All your little slayers were snapped like green stalks."
Drusilla seemed to be enjoying the tale as she told it. She held the ends of her dusty dress and swayed. Willow watched her for a moment then continued.
"The demons overwhelmed the earth. There weren't enough slayers. I could feel them dying."
Willow closed her eyes at the memory.
"There were too many," Drusilla disagreed.
"Matter of opinion. So the humans were dying from the plague..."
"It was on the telly. The newsreaders cried bloody tears and they choked."
"Yes they did."
"Then it all the tellys went crinkley."
"That's when all the TV stations went off the air. The witches, the ones who were left, got together again to even the odds."
"They made it like it is. The fires and the cults that killed all my babies."
Drusilla turned her back to Willow. Her eyes turning yellow, she glared at the front door with her head lowered. Willow knew that she was getting into a mood. But she continued anyway.
"We saw a way to save everyone from the plague and from the demons. Do you remember the potential who was so sick and got better?"
Drusilla didn't answer. Her face changed.
"I did. All the witches lit special fires that reached all over the world. They chanted and cast a powerful spell. We made the people strong so they could fight the demons and the plague. We made everyone a slayer."
"Witches! Ruining things!"
Drusilla turned back toward Willow. Her eyes were sharp and hateful.
"Things were already ruined. Now they're just different," Willow told her, holding her gaze.
"The fires won't stop burning."
"They are special fires. They can't stop burning."
"All the slayers like ants coming out of their holes."
"The slayers believed they were chosen to rid the world of demons, they banded into cults cleanse the earth. All the chosen ones thinking they were more chosen than anyone else - all the factions started fighting each other."
Drusilla didn't seem to be listening. She looked down at the floor.
"There used to be pretty things, nice things. Now it's all soot and ashes. Everything dirty and dusty and slayers everywhere," Drusilla's voice had cracked like she was going to cry. She had on her human face again.
"Well not everyone is a slayer," Willow consoled, " In every generation some people are born without powers."
"They get sick and die," Drusilla said with a cruel smile.
"If the vampires or demons don't get them. But with every generation they live a little longer."
"If the vampires and demons don't get them," Drusilla mocked.
"Right."
"You wanted to save the humans. There are no more humans now."
"Of course there are."
"The sick ones. They taste funny."
"No one is making you eat them."
Reminded of her hunger, Drusilla went back to looking around for rats. Her vampire face on, she reached her long, skinny arms into an opening in the wall. She had her arm in to the shoulder but still came up empty. She started to tear at the wall.
Willow didn't move to stop her. She hated this house. The green walls made her queasy. Willow missed their last place. She closed her eyes and she could hear the sound of old wood snapping and crunching as Drusilla searched for a snack.