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Drusilla was seated primly on a high-back wooden chair, looking horribly out of place. Her expression was a mixture of fear and anger, indignation and sorrow. Her eyes were cold and black and void of any emotion as she stared into the darkest corner of the room. Amy watched her, wishing above anything that she could read minds, especially that of the statuesque ghost seated before her in the cold, dark room.
Suddenly those coal eyes turned to her. They were magnetic. Amy tried to look away, to escape the emotions that dwelled in the black pools, but could not. Suddenly, she knew how Kendra felt before she died. “They can see you,” Dru said ominescantly, gesturing to the darkness. A chill ran up Amy’s spine, but her curiosity got the best of her. She peered into the darkness…and saw nothing. There were no people, no monsters, nothing. Just another one of those things that Drusilla could see because she was a psycho loony, unlike everyone else in the room.
“Who,” Amy asked quietly.
Drusilla’s brow furrowed. “Can you see them? They can see you.” Amy was speechless, out of both fear and fascination.
“Who,” Amy echoed. She ripped her eyes away from the shadows and turned her gaze back to Drusilla, but the moment had passed. Giles cleared his throat, demanding their attention.
“All right then,” the librarian muttered as he opened the book to its first page. He read out loud, “Chapter One: Unfinished Business.” Amy, Oz, and Drusilla watched as he began to silently read the pages.
Amy turned to Drusilla. With the proverbial ice broken, she felt a little better about talking to her. “Okay, unfinished business. What’s yours?”
Drusilla looked thoughtful, tilting her head to the side like Willow did when solving a difficult equation. “Kill the Slayer,” she answered. Amy bit back a laugh.
Oz shook his head, no change in his expression. “Well, that’s obviously a no.”
Dru frowned in frustration. “Can you end the world for me?”
“No, again,” Amy replied.
Drusilla sighed and stared off into the darkness again, as if it would give her answers. Apparently, it did. She clapped her hands together in delight and thanked one of her invisible friends. Then the ghost turned back to the teens. “Can you make my Angelus evil again?”
“Umm…No.” Oz replied.
Beginning to get frustrated, Dru glared at Oz. “You’re a mean doggie,” she pouted. Amy watched her, laughing on the inside. < She’s like a little girl, pouting because she can’t have her way. > She threw Oz an amused gaze and almost said this thought out loud, but stopped herself.
Dru jumped to her feet and began screaming at the darkness in an unintelligible language. Stunned, Amy froze and watched the scene in alarmed silence. She could see Oz and Giles do the same thing, too surprised to react, too afraid to disturb her. The ghost screamed, “Stop it, stop it now!” Then she fell to her knees, clamped her hands over her ears, and began rocking back and forth.
When Dru looked up again, tears streamed down her cheeks. “Make them stop,” she pleaded quietly.
Giles, as always, was the first to recover from the shock of the moment. The Watcher knew better than to ask whom she was talking about. Instead, he softly queried, “What are they saying?”
“Goodbye, moon,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Amy furrowed her brow, confused. “What is she talking about? Why would she hear that?”
Oz shrugged. “The moon is mentioned in the prophecy. Could that be a hint?”
Dru glanced up at the ceiling and said, “Goodbye, stars.”
Amy looked over to the ghost, sighed, then turned back to Oz. Gesturing towards the book, she said, “Hint me.”
He reread the prophecy, “The fall of the moon and the sun disappeared--”
“Stop there,” Amy cut in. Then she moved into analytical mode. “Okay, so Dru’s the moon, right? Then her death signaled the start of all this. Does that make Buffy the sun?”
“Well, she is gone.” Oz then turned back to the book and continued, “A different world, Hell on earth, the Innocent suffer by darkness rebirth.”
“Oh, my,” Giles said suddenly. “I’m afraid we had it all wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Amy.
“This fight doesn’t involve Sunnydale at all.”
Amy frowned, confused. “But the Chosen One--”
“Is in a different world. A world in which evil shall reign. We’ve got to tell her.”
“Okay, just let me break out my inter-dimensional cell phone. What’s the area code for alternate realities?” Amy retorted. Then she paused. “Okay, say we find some miraculous way to contact Buffy. She still can’t do anything. ‘The Chosen One watches as he takes his last breath’, remember?”
“Willow,” Oz said instantly, then added confidently, “Will can fight this thing.”
“Yes, of course. She does have the skills,” agreed the Watcher. “Willow must be the sun, not Buffy. We’ve got to warn them. But how?”
Amy could almost see the light bulb going off. “I know how. See, there’s this spell I found that I never thought I’d ever use. We have to start right now. I need a few things…”
Buffy didn’t know where she was going. It was like the moment she heard Ariak’s cry for help, her Slayer instincts took over. She was running on autopilot, and she wasn’t even sure she was going the right way. Turning corners, stepping through doorways, somehow she knew where to go. A quick glance backwards told her that she had backup. For the moment, that was all she needed to know.
After racing down a staircase and turning a few more corners, the Slayer skidded to a stop in front of the exit. Outside, in the cool crisp night air, was the biggest battle between good and evil the world had ever seen. She could hear the chaos and feel the power. It was intoxicating and smothering at the same time.
“Buffy?” a tentative voice said from behind her. She turned her hazel eyes to face the small group behind her. Angel stood in front, his eye questioning.
“It’s happening,” Buffy said ominously and gestured towards the door. She thought back to the conversations she had with Ariak and the statements he made in the cell. < ‘I understand that the time may come when he will be fought.’ And later, ‘I know my duty. If he does not choose wisely, I will have to kill him. > Finally, she understood what he meant.
Willow stepped forward and said, “We have to go out there, Buffy. Ariak needs our help.” She took a step forward, but stopped when Buffy grabbed her arm.
“No. He has to do this on his own,” The Slayer said softly. It was Ariak who would give his brother the ultimatum, not them. He was the one who would live with the consequences. For once, the Slayer realized her best course of action was to not fight.
A look of confusion crossed Willow’s face. “Buffy, he might get hurt.”
Buffy understood the words she didn’t say. What Willow meant was that it’s their job to protect and help him. She wanted to agree, to go out there and fight along side him. Instead, she shook her head. Forced herself to remain calm and firm. “Willow, we can only do so much. He has to fight this battle on his own.”
Willow bit her lower lip and said what everyone else was thinking. “But, Buffy. He could lose.”
Finally, all the frustration and anger of the past few days got to Buffy. She snapped. Angrily, she replied, “Don’t you think I want to go out there? Do you think I’m standing here doing nothing because I want to? I’m the SLAYER, Will. I was born to defeat the bad guys. I wanna kick some butt as much as the rest of you, probably more. But the fact is, we don’t belong here. We can’t just bust in there uninvited and save the day. If we interfere, we could make the timeline of events go screwy or something. That would be, like, fighting fate or something like that. And if there’s anything I’ve learned about that whole dying experience, it’s if those prophecy guys predict something is gonna happen, it will no matter what I do to stop it.”
The Chosen One paused and took a breath. Her eyes panned over the shocked expression of her friends. “Maybe he will lose. Maybe our lack of action will cause the good guy to get killed by the bad guy. But that’s what the prophecy says, right? ‘Good versus evil in a fight to the death, the Chosen One watches as he takes his last breath.’ So we watch.”
There was a stunned silence for a moment as everyone tried to think of a response. Buffy turned towards the waging battle outside and watched. She looked surprisingly calm on the outside, but inside she was a mass of turmoil. Her entire being screamed to go help, to fight for the land and its people. But she remained frozen, doing nothing. And as her friend doubled over in pain, she trembled…in fear.
Ariak glanced up at his brother from the ground. It was years since he saw him last, but it felt longer. Draven looked a lot older and matured from the last time they talked. That was after their father died and passed on the crown to Ariak. Dravon was furious-he was, after all, the oldest brother. He should have been declared King. But the royal prophet had declared before his birth that Dravon would turn to the side of evil. Magick was in their family lineage, and in every generation the powers that were passed grew stronger. Ariak and Dravon, being the youngest, were by far the most powerful mages the land had seen. If the older brother did indeed turn to the proverbial ‘dark side’, the results would be disastrous. Add to that the power of the crown, and the results could be deadly. Their father made the logical choice, when crowning Ariak.
One night, not long after Ariak’s crowning, the two brothers had a lengthy discussion about their father’s decision. Dravon said he was disappointed but not angry about the turn of events. He told his brother that he would be leaving in search of a new life.
The next time they saw each other was in the chambers with Buffy and Xander. There was something different about his older brother--his eyes no longer held that humor and compassion they once did. They were cold now, reflections of the bitterness held within. Apparently, whatever happened in his disappearance was more of a nightmare than a dream.
“Lost in thoughts, little brother?” Dravon smiled cruelly as he stood above him.
Ariak let the memories fade as he shook his head slowly. “No,” he said sadly, “you’re not my brother.” < All that hope and he’s gone forever. > The smile faded to be replaced by fleeting look of confusion, then anger. Dravon crashed his foot into Ariak’s stomach, and he doubled over in pain.
“I am your brother! I am the rightful King! And you,” said Dravon, pulling a dagger from within the robes, “are going to die now.”
It was then that Ariak noticed the presence of the slayer and her friends. The power that emanated from them was so great that he didn’t even need to look for them, he could feel them. It was if they were giving him their strength. Ariak glanced towards the group and caught Buffy’s eyes. She looked tired, defeated. But she gave him a small nod.
< This is it. The moment of truth. > Ariak took a final look at the monster his brother had become. He used to look at him and see the memories of childhood. That was no more. “I’m sorry it had to be like this. You made your decision, Dravon. Now you must face the consequences of your choice.” With that, Ariak jumped to his feet and held out his left hand. From thin air, a long sword appeared in his hand. Dravon stood and watched this action, then turned to glare at his own dagger. It grew in length until it, too, was the size of a sword.
Dravon struck first. He sliced the blade diagonally through the air towards Ariak’s stomach. Ariak blocked it cleanly and returned with a similar move. It, too, was parried and returned. They continued like this for a while-one on offensive and one on defensive, then vice versa. The fight was pretty equal, every attack blocked and returned. They increased in speed and passion, each trying to end the fight.
Finally, there was a break in the sparring. Dravon jabbed the sword towards Ariak, who caught it with his blade and sent it flying away. Ariak immediately held the tip of the blade to his brother’s throat.
“You fight well,” Dravon observed.
Ariak nodded, trying to catch his breath. “Years of training.”
Dravon smiled ironically and said, “Dad would be proud.”
Again, Ariak nodded. Then he lowered the sword to his side. “He was right, you know. About you. He knew this would happen. He knew that you would turn to the dark side.”
Dravon tilted his head to the side and his eyes narrowed. The remaining sliver of humanity in his eyes faded and he seethed, “Did he know how much I hated him? How much I hate him still? How even now I want you dead with every breath I take? What of that?” His eyes flashed with anger and hatred, and Ariak was once again reminded of his duty.
He was silent for a moment, searching inside himself for strength to do what he must. < Please help me. Give me strength to do this. > A wave of sadness and peace washed over him. Slowly, Ariak turned his eyes up to meet his brother’s. “I’m sorry, Dravon. Every day, I’m sorry. I will continue to be until my very last breath, and even then I shall beg for your forgiveness.” He pulled back the sword and said, “Goodbye, brother. May you find in death the peace you could not find in life.” Then with all the force he could muster, Ariak thrust the sword through his brother’s stomach.
At least, that’s what he meant to do. Instead, Dravon blocked the shot and began another furious round of sword fighting.
Willow watched from inside the safety of the castle as the two men fought. Her friends surrounded her, enraptured by the scene before them. Their eyes were filled with conflict. They, too, wanted to help but were held back by orders of Buffy and the prophecy.
< This can’t be right. > Willow couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. It all felt so wrong, but she couldn’t figure out how to fix it.
“Hey, Willow.” A female voice broke through her concentration. The redhead turned her head and glanced at Buffy. It wasn’t her. Not Cordelia, either. “Hey Wills, I’m over here.” It was coming from behind her. Willow turned around and looked past the group to see an old friend.
“Amy? What are you doing here?” A horrible thought occurred to her. “You’re not dead, are you?”
“Do you think if I had post-mortem, unrestricted access to someone, I’d be visiting you? No offense, I’m fond of you and all that, but I think I’d be visiting someone a little more…inaccessible. Like Brad Pitt?” Then she gestured towards the oblivious Spike and Angel with a cheeky grin. “One of them, maybe.”
Willow grinned back and rolled her eyes, then furrowed her brow in confusion. “Then what are you doing here?”
“Oh, yeah,” replied Amy, “I’m here to warn you. The prophecy…it’s wrong. Well okay, it’s right, but the translations were wrong. Basically, it’s like this: Drusilla dies, you get super-powers and get transported to another dimension where an evil guy is fighting to take over the world. Buffy freaks and good guy dies. That’s where you’ve gotten so far, right?” Willow nodded.
Amy continued, “Well, that’s not the whole thing. Yeah, Buffy’s not supposed to fight, but you are. So get your butt out there. Kill the bad guy, save the day. You’re the only one who can, according to prophecy.”
Willow nodded confidently, hesitated, and then shook her head. “I can’t do that! I’m not Buffy.”
Amy stared at her. “No, you’re not. Right now, you’re much better than the original. You have magical powers, Slayer skills, and a kick-butt prophecy that says you won’t lose if you try. You’re like, ‘Buffy, the next generation’ or something like that. You can do this. Go now.”
The redhead turned towards the fight. The jabs and slices were more frequent, more furious. And it appeared that Dravon was getting the upper hand. If she didn’t do something soon, he would win. Time was running out.
Ariak missed a jab, which Dravon used to his advantage. He stepped forward and changed his grip on the handle of his sword. Then he hit his brother in the temple with as much force as he could muster. It was enough to kill any normal person. Ariak dropped his guard, the blow sending him to near-unconsciousness. It was then that Dravon raised his sword in preparation to strike.
He froze in mid-air.
As soon as Willow finished casting the spell, she raced out the door towards the fighting men. There wasn’t much time. Although the spell could have lasted an infinite length of time against Spike and Angel, a real magician such as Dravon could end the spell with a few simple phrases.
She finally reached them, and grabbed the swords out of Ariak’s hand just in time to block a now-moving Dravon’s attack. Then she lost herself. Someone was doing the fighting, but it wasn’t Willow. She felt like she was watching the scene before her, not playing the lead. As fast as a only a Slayer could, Willow took the offensive, jabbing, slicing and attacking at every opening. Dravon blocked them, but he was getting tired and sloppy. She sliced the blade down towards his skull. He blocked upwards, and she took advantage. The redhead pulled back and slammed the sword into his stomach in a move similar to Ariak’s, but she was successful.
Suddenly she felt as if she were give back control of her own body. She glanced around, and her eyes widened as she realized what just happened. She released the sword and stepped back from the scene. “Oh Goddess, what have I done?” she whispered.
Dravon’s eyes widened as they dropped to see the sword obtruding from his abdomen. With shaking hands he grasped the sword’s hilt, but was too weak to pull it out. His eyes then turned to Ariak, disbelieving. “Can’t…believe…” he rasped, trying desperately to form the words. Dravon dropped to his knees and continued, “You have…won.” Blackness swirled around him, spinning in a funnel until it completely covered the fallen foe. Then he disappeared.
Ariak stood silent, watching his brother’s death without emotion. Then he fell to his knees in relief and exhaustion and pain, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Goodbye, Drae,” he whispered.