Author: Divine Princess Fuchsia
Rating PG13
Spoilers: Season 6 so far
Disclaimer: I DO SO own them! But not the song. Shirley Manson and the rest of Garbage own that. Own the title too, which I think is just plain greedy.
Feedback: Yummy, yummy! send to divinefuchsia@hotmail.com
Part One
~In a modern culture
My friend you must be careful
They've a million
Ways to kill you
In this dangerous world
There's an art to growing old
Taking chances
Magic happens~
Willow lay on the floor, her head and limbs forming a pentacle. The candles that marked each of the five points suddenly spurted into flame, sendingflickering beams of light around the room.Everything was still and silent as she began to whisper her invocation.
"Kali,
Great Goddess,
You who give life to bright new souls.
You who usher the shadows down into the Netherworld.
Draw back the veil between life and death
Let me wander in the shadow of the night."
In a far corner of the room, the mugwort burned in her censor, faling pure white light for a split second, as the soul, the bieng, the core of everything that was Willow Rosenberg passed into another realm, insubstantial as smoke. One by one the candles blew out, leaving sulpherous trails of grey smoke.
Tara stood in the Magic Box, clutching her purchase desperately. Mentally she urged Anya to hurry, the ex-demon's effusive friendliness to her customers more grating than ever.When she got to Tara, she raised her eyebrows.
"A Dreamcatcher?"
"I..It's for Willow. With all the magick floating around lately, I just want to make sure she's OK.
Hearing her, Xander walked over.
"She still messing with the forces of darkness? Tara, she's out of her depth. You think this is really going to help?" The words came out rough, his voice thick with concern. She pushed a trembling hand through her hair and fought back tears.
"I have to try and help her! I talk and talk but she doesn't listen!At least I'm tryying. She comes in here and you give her whatever she asks for."
"In the retail trade, we traditionally do that", Anya supplied with a helpful smile.
"Willow has a problem and it's our responsibility to help her."
Xander's expression hardened. "No, Tara. It's hers." He stalked off, every muscle in his body tense with anger. Tara looked down, helplessly, her green eyes filling with tears. She mumbled, barely able to get the words out through her tears,
"I just wanted to help her sleep. The dreams...they hurt her in the dreams. She cries out and I can't wake her. She's hurting and there's nothing I can do. I can't lose her, too. I can't."
Silently. Anya reached out across the counter and squeezed Tara's hand as gulping, gasping sobs consumed her.
Willow felt the cold wind on her face before she saw anything. Icy fingers that touched her body and tugged her hair, so cold it burnt into her skin. Obeying a will other than her own, her eyes snapped open, taking in her surroundings. Cold black sand seethed beneath her bare feet and the long white robe she found draped around her was whipped in the breeze. In the shadows, something whispered and moved, a dark shape barely distinguishable from the darkness around it. Craning her neck to see the sky, it was a sheet of obsidian, with no pinpricks of light to illuminate the blackness that was everywhere, that reached down into her mind. *No moon tonight* she thought. She could hear chanting from far off, low and entrancing. She could almost hear the words, but not quite. Stumbling in the direction she thought they came in, her feet moved over the black dunes as though she was trying to walk through treacle. Everything was forced, every movement and every breath laboured. Fear seized her veins, turning her blood to ice but she kept on. *I have to reach that sound. Have to. the singing, it's so sweet. But where is it coming from? I can't find it. No matter how far I run I can't find it.* "Where is it?" she shouted, her voice ringing through the night, the echo of her own voice rebounding on her, mocking her. She collapsed onto the sand, her chest heaving with rough sobs, the tears falling on her flowing garment, in large dark patches. Tears flowed down her cheeks, mingling with blood that stained the white in ominous dark red drops.