The End

Author: Dr. Demonic

Rating: PG

Summary:  I'm not spoiling this with a summar.  If you haven't already read it, go read "Origins" before reading this.  It's really short.

Diclaimer:  The plot is mine, and Darth Maligna, Raena Aura, FlameRaven, M*A*S*Hed Potatoes, and SquidBagpipe are all real people and also dear friends of mine.

            Dr. Demonic sat in the high school cafeteria between Darth Maligna and Raena Aura.  FlameRaven sat across from them, furiously arguing with M*A*S*Hed Potatoes on the subject on whether Bono was or was not a trash can.  Squid Bagpipe was sitting two tables away with his geeky friends, passing around "The Very Secret Diaries" and receiving a delightedly disgusted reaction from each new victim.

            Darth Maligna reached over and snatched a fry from Demonic's tray.  As Demonic watched, she shoved it into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and looked up at the ceiling in pathetically attempted look of innocence.  "What?" asked Maligna.

            Demonic rolled her eyes.  "I can so see you as a pickpocket after high school.  You'd do such a great job."

            M*A*S*Hed Potatoes looked up.  "Yeah, you could be a fanfiction-writing pickpocketing elf nut who hangs out with pervy hobbit fanciers."

            Demonic laughed, then slapped Mali's hand as she reached for another fry.  She ate one herself.  After a few more, though, she realized she wasn't hungry anymore.  She shoved it in Mali's direction and asked, "Do you want the rest?"

            Mali's eyes opened wide.  "Are you serious?  But… now it's not fun anymore!" she whined.

            Demonic rolled her eyes again, and started to feel depressed.  She didn't know why she was feeling depressed, but it might have had something to do with the fact that this story you're reading was her last fanfic.  Ever.  And she wanted to finish it off with a sort of… bang.  And she didn't know how.  She sighed.

            Nobody noticed, as they didn't even know that this was her last fic.  Well, SquidBagpipe knew, but he was two tables away and he didn't particularly care at the moment.  Raena Aura looked up from her lunch after having previously spent the last five minutes deep in concentration.  "Did you that if you rearrange the letters in "lemon," you get "melon?"

            Everybody's eyebrows went up for 0.3 seconds, then immediately went down as they realized that had to be the most pointless thing ever said at the lunch table.  Then they realized more pointless things had been said before.

            Demonic suddenly perked up as she realized an even more pointless-but-fun thing to say.  "Hey, did you know Mali likes Josh Hartnett?"

            Everybody exclaimed a cry of absolute horror and disgust.  "Ew!" they all said simultaneously.

            "I do not!" retorted Mali indignantly.  "My subconscious just… has… a certain… liking for him!"

            Everybody soon got bored with this and Demonic grew depressed again.  She then decided to quit procrastinating and just get it over with.  She disappeared, taking her backpack with her.

            Raena looked up from her lunch again.  "Hey, where'd Demonic go?"

            FlameRaven glanced at Demonic's empty seat.  "Did she do that disappearing thing again?"


            FlameRaven nodded knowledgably.  "Probably off doing another fic.  Wonder how long she'll be gone?"


            Demonic stepped into the clearing which contained the large, gaping hole in the center of her little pocket-dimension.  Carefully avoiding looking at the ravine, she dumped her backpack down three inches away from the ring of whirling images and sounds once again forming from the ravine and around the clearing.  She unzipped her bag and took out a notebook.  Affectionately written on the cover were the words "MY FICCIES."

            She tenderly set it down on the light brown dirt beneath the swirling leaves fallen from the non-living but undead trees, then took out her favorite pencil with which she had written her first slash fic.  Picking these two items up, she briskly walked over to the ravine.  Just as she was about to toss them in, a voice spoke.

            "Just what do you think you're doing?"

            Demonic jumped about two feet in the air and gave a small yelp.  "What the—"  She spun around wildly, searching for the source of the voice which had impossibly found its way in one of the many products of her own subconscious.

            A teenage boy with spiked up blond hair bleached at the tips, sparkling blue-green eyes, dimpled cheeks and a toothy white grin leaned against a tree ten feet away wearing a Spawn ® tee-shirt and black shorts.  "Hi there!" he said brightly.

            Demonic's jaw dropped.  "How did you get in here?  There can't be anybody in here but me!  And WHO ARE YOU?"

            "Well, gee, Demonic, don't you recognize your favorite ex-boyfriend?"

            Demonic's jaw snapped shut.  She peered at him closely and whispered, "Freddy?"

"You recognize me!  Considering the fact that I've always been invisible, that's pretty amazing."

"I don't exactly have many exes," muttered Demonic.  "And how did you get visible?  And how the heck did you get in here?" she continued, starting to yell.

"Easy on the eardrums," protested Freddy.  "I'm your muse, and I can be invisible or visible whenever I damn well want to."

"What?!" screamed Demonic.  "I have a muse?  Yay!"  She danced in a circled for several minutes, and then paused.  "You're a guy."

"I know that."

"I mean, I thought muses were all female."

"Well, if you're following those rules, then you shouldn't have a muse.  Women are already too creative to have need for muses."

"Oh," said Demonic, falling silent.  Then she asked, "Well, what rules are you following?"

"The kind of rules that state that sex change operations have no effect on one's musabilty."
            "I dated a transvestite for two years?!" shrieked Demonic.  "I mean, I am a slasher and an anti-homophobe, but this is slightly different… ew…"

Freddy raised an eyebrow.  "You know, living forever gets rather boring after a while.  I needed a drastic change.  So I called—"

Demonic covered her ears with her hands.  "I don't want to know how muses get sex changes.  That goes beyond my list of things to eventually find out."

Freddy merely grinned at this.  "Well, in answer to your other question, I can get in here very easily because that ravine in the center of this dimension is actually a portal to my world."




"So," said Freddy, sitting on a comfy armchair that popped out of nowhere.  Demonic eyed him enviously; she couldn't make things appear in her own dimension unless she wrote it down and made a plot device.  Obviously muses were on a higher level of existence than ordinary fanfiction authors.  (So are cats, for that matter, but few know that.  But anyway…)  "Back to my original question.  What do you think you're doing?"

Demonic glanced at her hands, which were holding the notebook and favorite pen.  "I'm quitting fanfiction."

"WHAT?!" asked Freddy. 

"I said I'm quitting fanfiction," replied Demonic, trying to be calm but barely able to keep her voice from shaking.

"Oh."  Freddy conjured up an apple and took a noise bite.  "You won't accomplish anything by tossing down your notebook other than giving some unfortunately muse walking down there a headache and possible reason for a death threat."  He paused and took another bite.  "Then again, with muses, everything's a possible reason for a death threat.  We're a pretty bloody crowd, you know."

"I didn't know," Demonic murmured, a little confused.

Freddy shrugged.  "Well, you're best shot with quitting fanfiction is digging a hole and burying your notebook in it, then walking away from this place and never coming back."

"What about the pen?" asked Demonic.

"Can I have it?" asked Freddy eagerly.

Demonic extended her hand, then suddenly thought better of it.  "What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to shove it up my nose and leave it there!" said Freddy happily.

Demonic retracted her hand.  "On second thought, I think I'll keep it."

Freddy gave a small pout but was otherwise unperturbed by this.  "Are you going to say good-bye?"

"To whom?" asked Demonic.

"Everybody's whose life you've ever screwed around with," explained Freddy.  "The people who starred in your fanfics," he added a little more clearly.

Demonic shrugged.  "I can say good-bye?"

"Sure," responded Freddy.  "Just follow me."  And with that, he leapt into the ravine and disappeared.

Demonic glanced over the edge, held her breath, and jumped.

As she fell, she was immediately disoriented as gravity went from one end to the other and she received the odd sensation falling up.  This only lasted a few seconds, though, and she fell to the ground with a bump. 

Rather than the moist and spongy dirt of her woods, she landed in a pile of soft, dry sandbar near a pleasantly rolling ocean.  She stood up, dusted herself off, and looked around.

Stretching all the way to the horizon and past was the ocean; the horizon itself was dotted with an occasional seagull.  Facing the opposite direction, Demonic saw a huge tower about a fourth of a mile away from the beach.  Seagulls flew in every direction, their feathers scattering in the salty breeze.

"Where are we?" asked Demonic. 

"We are on an alternate form of the island of Icaria, home of the legendary Icarus and Daedalus."

"Who?" Demonic asked, very confused.

Suddenly, a shrimpy black-haired, blue-eyed kid with make-shift wings made with seagull feathers and wax ran by, yammering wildly, his arms rustling most irritatingly.  Seconds later, a middle-aged, brown-haired guy thundered after him shouting, "Icarus!  Come back!"  As Demonic watched, the boy took flight over the ocean, his aerodynamically incorrect wings leaning precariously into the wind, and his father following far behind.  As the hot sun's rays bore down on the wax, I heard a the boy's voice yelling from far away, "It's a bird, it's a plane, it's—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, shi—"


"Oooohhhh," Demonic said with sudden understanding.

"So, you wanna come over to my apartment?" asked Freddy.  "They're waiting for you."

"Aren't you a little young to have your own apartment?"

"I'm immortal."

 "Good point.  Sure, I'll come," Demonic said, shrugging.

The two walked the short trek over to the tower on the beach, and Freddy took out his keys.  While waiting for the elevator to take them up, Demonic asked, "So you knew I was quitting, didn't you?  That's why everybody's waiting for us?"

Freddy nodded.  "Yeah.  Why do you want to quit, anyway?" he asked, a little petulantly.  "Don't you love us?"

"Well, of course," replied Demonic.  "But I need to quit.  I'm in my freshman year of high school, and everything's getting too stressful.  I have tons of work to do with the piano—recital in a month and auditions in three.  And Raena Aura and I are performing our band's song in two months. And I'm learning Hindi, and… whoa.  I've just revealed a ton about myself to my readers in just four sentences after two years of claiming I was Irish and… stuff."  Demonic paused.  "Great.  Now they know I kind of have culture, and that I'm just a pathetic Irish wannabe."

"Well, being Irish would be really awesome, so you're excused," said Freddy.

The elevator arrived, and the two stepped in.  "So, who's all there?" asked Demonic.

"Oh, the usual crowd," said Freddy evasively.

Demonic didn't push it, because a rather unsettling feeling was beginning to gnaw at her stomach.  She didn't really want to quit fanfiction.  It was really fun, but she just couldn't anymore.  Plus, she there was another reason she didn't tell Freddy.  She felt like nobody like her stuff. The most reviews she ever got for something was thirty-one, and that was for a list.  Everything else was under twenty-four.  And her humor was pathetic.  She didn't think she'd written anything funny until "A Star Wars-y Christmas," and then "After Excursions."  And even those didn't fare too well review-wise. 

The elevator stopped on the forty-second floor.

Seeing this number, Demonic exclaimed, "Oh, no!  I never got to write a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fic!"

Freddy gazed with sudden keenness and asked, "You still want to go through with this?"

Demonic bit her lip and nodded.  "I made a reference.  I suppose that's enough."

"Okay," said Freddy.  He led Demonic to his apartment and opened the door.  Stepping aside to let her in, he called, "She's here!"

"Oh, good," said a British voice.  "The tea's getting cold." 

Tears sprang to Demonic's eyes when the owner of the voice stepped into Freddy's hallway.  She ran forward and glomped the eternally thirty year-old man with brown hair, burying her face into his jacket, which smelled vaguely of flowery incense.  "George," she whispered happily.

George Harrison patted her gently on the head, both surprised and a little winded.  "Hello, love."  He pulled her apart from him and looked her face.  "Why, you're crying!"

Demonic sniffled, and hugged him again.  "I'm going to miss you so much.  The only chance I get to see you is when I write about you, and now…" she broke off, rubbing her nose. 

Paul, John and Ringo joined the other three.  "Why don't we all go to the kitchen.  The others are there, and there's tea in the kettle."

"Since when do I have a tea kettle?" wondered Freddy softly out loud, following the five into his kitchen. 

Demonic stared in wonder around the cheerful, brightly lit little kitchen.  Cyclops, Wolverine, Rogue, Storm, Jean, and Nightcrawler all sat around the table, which despite its size, managed to accommodate them and a few more, including Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Maul, who sat next to each other, both thinking of ways to make the seating arrangement look like an accident.  Yoda and Mace Windu were there, corset, lipstick, and all, and Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas sat in chairs pulled up from the living room.  Leia and Amidala were there, from Demonic's poem, and last but not least, there was Darth Vader, who had made only one appearance in Demonic's entire writing career.

"Hi," said Demonic shyly.

"Yo, mein favorite little demon freund!" yelled Nightcrawler.  He stood up and gave her a little hug.  Whispering in her ear, he told her, "Danke."

"Why?" Demonic whispered back.

"You never slashed me with Toad."

A grin lit up Demonic's tear-stained face.  "No problem."

George handed her a cup of tea, and she pulled up a chair which had just appeared out of nowhere.  She sat down and said, "Gee, I don't know what to say to you guys.  I mean, I'm going to miss you!"

Cyclops said, "All of us?  Seems like you kind of hate me."

Demonic smiled at him and told him, "Well, actually, you're kind of hot with a beard in the Ultimate X-Men series."

"Really?" asked Scott, brightening.

"And Logan is actually one of my favorite characters, although I've never told anyone that," continued Demonic.  "Rogue's not that bad, especially in that one comic with Banshee and Gambit and the basketball game… but anyway, Jean definitely showed potential with the whole Pheonix Force, giving into evil and all, and Storm is just cool because she's got freaky eyes."  Demonic's own eyes turned to Obi and Maul, who were both avoiding each other's gazes.  "Oh, come on, you guys.  Someday you'll admit you two like each other… well, you already did, on Christmas, so there's no use in pretending anymore."

They both glared at her resentfully, and she had to laugh.

Then she glanced at Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir.  "I'm going to miss you, Boromir, son of Boromirathorn."

"You got that from Mali," said Boromir.

Demonic nodded.  "Yeah, I know.  And Aragorn, you, too.  Life won't be fun without you guys."

"What about me?" asked Legolas.

"I said 'guys,' didn't I?  And anyway, I still hate your guts."


Demonic glanced at Yoda and Mace, and decided there was nothing she had to say to them.  "Well, that's it," she said.  She was sadder than before in some ways, but in other ways, she felt strangely light-hearted.  "I'm ready to go."

She gave them all more quick hugs, and wiped away one last tear.  Freddy led her out, then back into her forest. 

Demonic picked up her notebook, and, taking the shovel Freddy handed her, buried it in the dirt.  She looked at the pen in her hand for a minute, then gave it to Freddy.  He immediately shoved it up his nose. 

Speaking nasally, he added, "You gotta get rid of your name, now."

"Okay," said Demonic.  "What do I do?"

"Repeat this spell and say 'Dr. Demonic' afterwards."  He told her the spell.

In a high, clear voice, Demonic recited,

"A long wind has now passed over

Filling my small head

With visions from places

Where I could not tread

I now stand alone;

The visions have gone

My soul will have rest

            It has craved for so long

            I give up my name

            Which was bestowed unto me

            By the gods of fanfiction

            And a wrong destiny."


            Demonic paused.  She took her last breath of the sweet air in this dimension, and called out, "Dr. Demonic."

            A wind rustled through the trees, and through her soul, taking from her something utterly indefinable and huge in an indefinable way.  As it left, she felt a calmness settle in the depths of her soul, and for the first time in two years, she felt normal.  No itching, nagging impulse to plunk down in front of her computer and squeeze out the latest on Obi and Maul, or a list on exactly how crazy was "crazy."  Sure, some various ideas floating around up there to keep her novel moving, but that was it.

            She sighed more deeply than she thought her lungs could manage, and left.


            She popped back in the cafeteria, realizing that that was the last time she would ever be able to disappear and reappear like that.  She now even wondered how she used to be able to do it.

            "Demonic, you're back!" cried Raena.  SquidBagpipe was standing next to her, explaining one way of faster-than-light travel that didn't warp time.  He glanced up and said, "Demonic, Maligna ate all your fries.  She offered to buy you ten little thingies of them at the end of the year—"

            "Neerja," Demonic interrupted him.  "Call me Neerja."

A/N:  Lame poem, I know.  Sorry.  Can't write poetry for beans.