[Location: Where the Bronze used to be/Accidental visual] You can sit beside me when the world comes

[inked-wiccan.livejournal.com]

In the days after Willow had found out that Xander had been taken from the city of Taxon, she had gone through a myriad of emotions. None of them positive. Anger, fear, depression, all that angsty goodness. She took no comfort in the memories she had of him, knowing that he was gone. There was the off-chance that he'd return, like Dean's mother and Sam, but if he did, would he remember being here? Would he be from a world that didn't have her? This questioned weighed heavily on Willow's mind, which sent her spiraling downward. Deeper into her depression.

Finally, after two days of milling about in her pajamas, not caring, not turning on her tablet, Willow sprung into action. She didn't bother dressing, staying in her purple bunny pajamas, her feet bare. She made her way downstairs to the library, grabbing one of the more advanced witchcraft books, and a satchel full of ingredients. Several of them were intended to help with the restoring of Xander's eye, but they wouldn't be much use now, would they?

Willow made her way through the streets to where the Bronze used to be, looking at the empty, nondescript building that had taken its place. Willow's chin trembled and she grit her teeth. She hated this place. It was all a lie. Xander had his mind, Tara was alive. It was all just temporary. Entering the building, Willow crossed the floor to the middle of the large, open space, dropping the satchel. Within a few minutes, she had a large, archaic symbol drawn on the floor. Stepping into the center, several small candles placed at key points, Willow closed her eyes, summoning up the energy swirling inside her, begging to be freed.

Opening her eyes, her pupils seemed to expand, covering most of her eye, leaving a little white at the edges.

"Götter der Dunkelheit
Dreher der Wirklichkeit
Ich flehe Sie an

Schaffen Sie für mich, ein Loch
Dringen Sie durch den Raum ein
Hören Sie Zeit auf

Bringen Sie mir, worum ich bitte.
Ich flehe Sie an."

Purple-blue lights began to swirl around the witch as she began the incantation, spinning and dipping faster as her voice rose. "Ich flehe Sie an!" She cried and the lights seemed to freeze in the air in front of her, before shattering outwards, breaking the windows in the room.

Willow had winced a little, closing her eyes when the lights exploded. After a few moments, she opened them, to find nothing but broken windows and blown out, knocked over candles. And the satchel had scooted a few feet away in the small explosion.

But there was no Xander. Willow's eyes flooded once more with tears and her chin trembled. "Shit...."



((ooc: Crappy German translation for crappy fake!spell: "Gods of the dark
Turners of reality
I implore you
Create for me, a hole
Pierce through space
Stop time
Bring me what I request.
I implore you.
I implore you."))

Comments

[inked-wiccan.livejournal.com]

"You're not exactly the helpful type," Willow replied coldly.

Willow has no idea about Drusilla's world. How it's different from Buffy's and her's as well. If she was in a better mood, she'd ponder on how very many different realities there really are. How each choice branches of an unknown amount of worlds.

"I didn't let him wander," Willow replied, trying to keep her heartbeat steady. Not going to get pissed. Nope.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"Not for you. But if the Slayer asked nicely and if the pixies wanted to talk ..."

The vampire broke off and shrugged slightly. It was taken out of her hands then. She didn't get a say in the matter. The fates pulled in their direction. Drusilla would only be broken if she pulled back in her own.

"But he's gone."

[inked-wiccan.livejournal.com]

"I don't need help from you or your...pixies."

Willow frowned, swallowing hard. "Yes, he's gone. And, apparently, I can't bring him back." Willow doesn't continue by saying how powerful she is. She's humble like that.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"They're not my pixies," said Drusilla, apparently thoroughly amused by all of this and by Willow's discomfort and grief in particular. She's starving here, and sorrow can be as sweet as blood if it comes from the right person. (Or so she tells herself.)

"Good riddance," she murmured, "He never let me finish the poem."

[inked-wiccan.livejournal.com]

"Whoever's damn pixies," Willow said stiffly. "I don't want their help."

Willow heard the murmur and her eyes flashed. "Don't you dare say that! I don't give a crap about your stupid poem but you will not say anything bad about Xander!" Willow barked sternly.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"He is the poem," replied Drusilla with another laugh. Her amusement was too raw to be of any real use, and she knew how dangerous the Red Witch could be when she wished, but the vampire couldn't help herself. She wanted to push and push and push. Push and then snap.

"Can't you read it?"

[inked-wiccan.livejournal.com]

"Do you even know what the hell you're talking about?" Willow scoffed, sniffling slightly, despite her anger. It was bad enough that her spell didn't work. But now the crazy vampire was rubbing salt into the wound.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"I know more than you, witch," said Drusilla, in a sharp voice. Her tone was often as light as air, but now it was as hard as steel. The anger crackled through her, the anger and ... there ... what was underneath it?

"You were careless and you've lost him. Your spells won't bring him back. He's slipped through your fingers, like sand and dust." Sand and dust, and maybe he'd never be able to be anything else, now.

That was it. That was what was underneath. Hope. The more Scoobys that disappeared, the closer she'd be to having the Slayer to herself. Even here.

[inked-wiccan.livejournal.com]

"I really cannot wait for Buffy to end you," Willow replied through gritted teeth when Drusilla insinuates that it's Willow's fault that Xander's gone.

"I may even sell tickets," Willow added, a few octaves away from growling out the words.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"Oh," Drusilla purred, after tilting her head back for a moment and laughing uproariously, "She won't do that. She'd never do that."

She sounded perfectly secure, perfectly confident. Even in this world, where things were so very different, Buffy wouldn't kill Drusilla. She and the Slayer were tied together by strings they hadn't made and strings they didn't understand. Nobody, not even the Red Witch, could cut the knots.