TITLE: Restoration
DISCLAIMER: I own none of these characters, except for Altyron, and he is a construct from JW's conception. I am simply taking JW and co on their word that we can play with them. I only wish I had them here to play with. Anyhoo, I make no profit from this endeavor, so please leave me and my meager possessions alone. I can't afford to be sued.
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Post AtS S5. The Battle against WR&H, Angel and what is left of his crew get some help and an old friend comes back to play, just in a new face.
FEEDBACK: Oh pleaseohpleaseohplease!!! My co-author and I are anxious to see what people think about our little story. We think it bloody brilliant, but it all depends on the readers, if you must know. So please, write me back and let me know what you think.
AN: This is a story of Wesley and Papa Smurf (you'll understand the reference later). My mother and I were distraught over the callousness of Wes' death, and we decided to change a few things. One: he never meant to die, therefore didn't. Two: Ilyria didn't kill Fred so much as Fred finally became Ilyria. Three: Fred's parents knew and expected it to happen. Four: Altyron is a bad ass.
Bringing In The Dead
L.A. May, 2004
Back Alley
Ilyria jumped down from the roof, meeting Angel and Gunn, with Spike coming slowly down the alley. Her inexpressive face awash in apathy, her voice cold, methodical. "I wish to do more violence."
"Don't worry, pet, you'll get your chance. I'm only ahead of them by a few minutes." Spike spoke as he joined the group.
The ragged crew of formerly seven stood four strong. Angel, Ilyria, Spike, and a badly battered Gunn stood together, marching out into the alleyway, determined to meet the end well in battle.
"The dragon's mine." And the battle raged.
Angel leapt into the air, defying gravity with his vampire legs, securing himself onto the back of the dragon, determined to harness this beast as a weapon for the fray. He hacked heads, arms, legs, chests and backs of demons as he attempted to tame a dragon rivaling the mythic Tiamat. Beset from all sides, his sword flailing and more often than not succeeding in dispatching his enemies, Angel fought; grim, determined, unflinching in the face of pain, unknowing if they could win, but vowing to try.
Spike followed suit, only on the ground. He charged into the line of the demon horde, brandishing well earned bravado and steel. His charged howls ringing in the night, filling out the silences between sword clashes, demonic battle cries, and howls of pain. Caught in the thrall of violence done for good, Spike was a crusader, an unholy warrior for right. His grin glowed feral with the fight, eyes yellow and dangerous, joyous, reveling in the carnage.
Ilyria, a study in ruthless grace as she swatted insignificant demons aside, decapitating them with fists and arms. She paused only to remember her fallen companion. A man dedicated to fighting the good fight, loving, and doing what he thought was the right thing. His loss hurt her more than she cared to admit, and this spot of violence was her catharsis. But no one watching her would ever know. They would never know that Fred inside her mourned, screamed in futile rage and pain within the confines of her possessor. But her pain eked out, soaking Ilyria's essence in grief. And she fought to scour it from her body. It made her strong, accurate, and deadly.
Gunn's badly injured body had done battle once already that night, dispatching a nest of vampires. He was worn out, devastated, and refused to back down due to exhaustion. This was his mission. He was just a human, but his heart beat, and as long as it did he would fight for the good. This made him perseverant. While not as fast or agile as the other three, Gunn knew how to weed them out, fighting only two or three at a time. He had already beaten down six demons, working on the next three to make it nine. Forceful and angry, he swung his axe, dismembering demons as he went. It seemed to be working, from his point of view. He figured they all were doing pretty well considering it was just four of them against a horde of demon scum.
Then they all had a reprieve, as the front line retreated in order to regroup.
"I think we're doing pretty damn good, guys." Gunn said, sounding slightly more hopeful than he should have.
Just then, Angel landed in a heap in front of them. His bruised and beaten body lying limply on the street. The sound of stampeding demons returned, and they all looked up to see the front line of demons regrouped and coming at them from all sides. The evil army had been testing the warriors, determining weakness and uncovered sides. They found them, and returned to the battle with death in their throats, dripping from their battle cries. The ragged band stood strong, back to back, in defensive position. They were ready to die, but were more than willing to take a helluva lot more demons with them.
"Chuck, my man, I think you may have spoken too soon, there mate." Spike answered Gunn's earlier optimism.
Above, on midnight rooftops, unnoticed, a dark one watched, expressionless.
The demons began swinging axes and swords, flailing tentacles and spiny arms in injurious patterns. The seeming haphazard movement threw the gang off and the demons gained an edge. They culled Gunn out first, drawing him out away from Spike and Ilyria, forcing him to fight by himself. He valiantly fought, swinging his axe in an ever constant arc, slicing and dicing his way, he hoped, to freedom outside this nasty group. He knew it was futile, knew no matter what he did, this night was his time to die. Resigning himself to it, he continued his fight, hoping to at least take out as many as he could before he went down.
The new glare blinding him scared him. Great, he thought. Just what we need, a light demon coming to blind us so we'll get picked off that much easier. Suddenly the demon he was fighting fell dead, eyes staring sightlessly into the night sky. Then the demon to his right fell, screaming in belligerent pain, a crossbow bolt protruding from his eye. He died a few seconds later when a sword sliced his head clean off.
"Oh right. The great Charles Gunn gets to go down fighting the biggest fight yet, and doesn't call in his crew to help him? What is the world coming to, Charlie?"
"The end, in case you weren't noticin, Jackson. You gonna kill this bastard behind me, or are you gonna chat me up first? Cuz I'm thinkin, chattin is the least of my worries right now." Gunn replied, fighting off another demon coming upon him.
"Oh don't you worry, we ain't lettin you fight this one alone. One was bad enough." The old crew from the hood, as Gunn liked to call them, jumped down from his old truck, brandishing fresh bodies, attitudes and gleaming clean weapons. Their thirst for vengeance on the demons evident in their readiness. "Let's get this done, gang. Demons to fight, friends to save. It's a good time to be had by all." They began swinging, Gunn with renewed vigor, now that he wasn't fighting alone.
Spike had seen Charles get culled out by the demon horde, but could do nothing, standing with his back to Ilyria over Angel, protecting the wanker until he could revive. He had an idea what the demon army was doing, but as long as Angel lay there, unconscious, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He heard the truck pull in to the fracas, and chanced a glance to make sure Charlie boy was alright. Noticing the new gang of what seemed to be Gunn's friends entering the fray, Spike relaxed into battle. He didn't notice that he was being led away from Angel and Ilyria until he was yards away from them and happened to hear Ilyria laugh joylessly. Upon recognizing that he had indeed been culled, Spike stopped fighting defensively. He cocked his head, looking questioningly at the groups of demons surrounding him. Think you've got me, do ya? He thought. He shook his head, lowered it, looking through his lashes at the demons before him. You don't know me at all.
Spike charged his enemies, running into the line of evil like a berserker. His vampire face forced out by the simple act of aggression in battle, Spike fought with vigor, punching holes in demon faces, breaking arms, taking off heads, and splitting bodies in half with his sword. The element of surprise worked for him for a short while, then the sheer numbers he was up against overwhelmed him. His charge he knew had been futile, suicidal even, but like Charles, he was by God going to take a shitload of demons with him when he went. His fighting slowed with exhaustion, he felt himself backed into a corner, up against a wall, no where to run. As the demons advanced slowly, sensing victory, Spike hung his head, another failed attempt hitting him square in the face. His eyes closed in upcoming death.
"Spike, look to your left, dumbass." The voice inside his head was so sudden, so unexpected, he could not help but obey. There she stood, small, beautiful, powerful, green eyes shining emerald fire, hair catching the last of the moonlight. "Pick up your damn weapon, fangless, we have a job to do here." Again, the voice in his head commanded him and he obeyed. This time however, he answered back, "Red, goddamn but I am glad to see you." As he returned to the fight, he noticed her white hair and the three others standing behind her.
Kennedy and Xander stalked up to his side, slicing demons along the way. They reached Spike's side in a matter of minutes, fighting off demons as they approached. Giles stood with Willow, shooting sparks of borrowed power from his hands into the crowded demonic army. He killed five with just one such spark. Willow stood across the alley, chanting, her white hair flowing in the energy wind. Her power glowing from her body, causing the demons to shrink from her presence, and as she flung them backwards, breaking them over dumpsters and metal bars, she smiled serenely.
Spike said in the midst of battle, "Angel's unconscious and these wankers have pulled me away from him. We need to fight back to him, protect him." His voice was harsh with exertion and concentration.
"I think he's covered there, Spike." Xander answered him and neatly disemboweled the horned creature heading up to his right. "You just keep an eye on my left, and cover me, k?"
"Right, got it, git."
Still secreted on the rooftops, the spectator watched, cobalt eyes lit from within, observing the fighting, crinkling slightly at the corners.
Ilyria held her place as protector over an unconscious Angel. Her tiny fists impacting the demons disproportionately to their size. She occasionally would smile darkly, loving the thrill of killing at least a few of these insects that had taken over her world. Throughout her battle, she could hear Angel stirring back into consciousness. As his eyes finally opened, and he attempted to rise, a tiny but very powerful woman stepped up behind Ilyria. How the young one made it through the demon army was not immediately discernible to Ilyria, but the scythe in the young woman's hand spoke to her of power. She turned fully to the girl who had taken hold of Angel's arm and was lifting him to his feet while dispatching a charging demon soldier with a casual swing of her weapon. Ilyria scented the air, deciding who the girl was.
"You reek of ancient power, as does your weapon. You are older than these beings." She looked Buffy up and down, coming to a decision. "I am no longer needed here in this space." Ilyria stalked off into the army, swinging her arms in wide arcs, flinging demon scum from before her. She cut a swath of destruction through the horde, wiping them out as she stalked.
"Well, Angel, looks like when you resign, you bring the world to an end? Geesh, couldn't you have just sent a memo?" Buffy quipped. "And who was Smurfette?"
"You're here." Angel said on a sigh. "You're late, but you're here." He touched her face with one hand and snapped the neck of one of the demons with the other. When both hands were free, he grabbed her face and kissed her delicately. "Thank you."
She smiled. "Nice as it is to say hello to you, do you think you could let me go, so me and my girls can help you take care of this fight?"
"Sure." he grinned. A loud roar filled the night, drowning out the battle sounds and Buffy and Angel looked up into the sky. The dragon that had so casually unseated Angel flew in a low sweeping arc above them, breathing fire on the battle. Buffy stepped forward with her scythe, ready to attack. Angel's hand on her arm stopped her.
She grinned this time. "I take it this is something you need to do by yourself?"
"Yeah, it kinda is." He kissed her one more time, then leapt into the air, back onto the dragon's back.
Buffy shook her head and smiled, saying, "Oh. You're so gonna lose." She turned her attention back to the battle at hand, looking behind her. "Ok, Robin, Faith, bring em all in. It's time."
At her command, Robin and Faith, each with about 75 even younger girls following, entered the battle. The girls broke into the horde, culling out six or seven demons to each, effectively dividing and conquering. Buffy watched with pride as her charges met the challenge and fought like true champions. Then she too joined the fight, scythe ringing out with power.
The four fronts battled, with the side of good edging out, taking out demons and dragons, winning the battle. The essence of victory was with them. The dark observer on the rooftop smiled grimly. He watched the warriors with something akin to satisfaction, pleased that they were doing so well. His smile widened, then suddenly vanished as he looked above the battlefield.
Xander paused in his fighting, sword paused in midair. "What the hell is that?" He asked, looking off to his right, where in the sky, a small fissure of light was growing. They had beaten back the demon army, and were simply polishing off the stragglers when Xander's question made them pause. As they all watched, the fissure opened even larger, growing huge and bright, blinding. Ilyria slowly turned, observed the disturbance and announced, "That is a portal," in a remarkably Fred-like voice.
Xander's and the rest of the Scoobies' eyes widened. "Ok." this from Faith. "A portal to where?"
"Not to, but from." Ilyria continued to watch curiously as the portal opened completely. Her face set in stone as she realized what was happening. "It begins again. There is great power here, a dark reckoning is approaching. Let them come, I am ready."
"Well, bully for you pet, me not so much. This battle is bone wearing. We're tired, we're beat up, and we can't take another punch like the last one, no matter how many friends we have here." Spike's voice rose in frustration.
As he spoke, the second even larger demon wave came through the portal. Fresh bodies for a fresh fight, ready to kill and destroy those who stood in their way. They marched in uniformity, their stomps like the death knell for the warriors. The being on the rooftop simply waited, expectantly.
After the last of the new demon infantry stepped through the portal, three more even larger beings step out. The first, a huge wolf on two legs, grey and black fur shining in the moonlight. The snarl on its lips indicating arrogant disdain for those before it. The second being, a cloven footed beast, horns curled down to its neck, the goat like face surveying the devastated first wave of demons with anger shining from its eyes. The last beast to make its way through the portal, a great Hart, half again as large as the first two, seemed to be the general of this new army. He stood solidly and confidently in his place, knowing his victory was now at hand.
As the portal closed, Angel finally killed the dragon, slicing its neck, and plummeted back to the ground riding the dragon as it fell. He saw the new threat and before anyone had a chance to ask, Angel said "Wolf, Ram, and Hart. Now I know this is the end." The crusaders gathered together in the alley, a god, two vampires, 152 slayers, a street gang, a wizard, a witch, a slayer's son and one regular average joe stood in the center of an apocalypse, and waited to begin again.
He stared in wonder at the relative small group of fighters. They knew they were defeated, yet still they fought. He admired them for their tenacity, but he knew something they did not. This was not supposed to be happening. With a deep sigh, he uncrossed his arms, gathered his power and struck.
The lightning bolt was so bright, so fast, the second wave of demons never even had a chance. In the blink of an eye, an army of thousands was reduced to a pile of dust and bloody mud. Angel and his small line of defense against the evil could only stare in stunned appreciation. But the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart merely stood undeterred by the display.
Exasperated, the being on the rooftop growled, "Oh for pity's sake...." He jumped to the ground, breaking the concrete of the alley floor as he landed. He stood up slowly. His blueblack hair gleaming in the midnight. His skin shone like polished blue granite, power emanating from his every pore. He turned to the warriors, eyes shining with cobalt energy. "I'm going to take care of this right now." He looked directly at Angel, who, stunned into silence, mouthed "Wesley?"
"It's about time you intervened, Papa smurf." Ilyria said flippantly, using Fred's voice.
The face Angel had been so struck by turned to stone. Turning away from Angel, the figure looked over at Ilyria. She smiled at the light she saw. He simply turned from her to face the three.
"You dare to show yourselves on this plane? You dare to interfere in the cycle?" His voice, a dark combination of power and timelessness, addressed them.
The Hart spoke, detached curiosity barely covering the disgust in his voice. "And who would you be to address us? You seem as insignificant as the rest of these mere mortals, battling for a plane of existence that is no longer theirs."
"Do you not know me? Do you not recognize your master?" He fixed the wolf with a pointed stare. "I am he who pulled the first thorn from your paw, who tended you when your mother fell." He fixated on the ram. "I am he who fed you your first sweet fruits, you licked the juice from my hands." Finally, he turned to the hart. "I am he that pulled you from your dying mother's womb, and nursed you to greatness." His gaze encompassed all of them, the fire shining out visibly. "Still, you do not recognize me?"
The three great beasts examined the newcomer thoroughly, finally coming to a conclusion. Their voices mingled in the night air as they said his name in awe, "Altyron."
Angel, Buffy and the others could only watch the spectacle. They had known when the beasts came out who they were going to be dealing with, but the arrival of who they thought was Wesley but turned out not to be, was throwing them off. They continued to watch, hoping only that this new entity would not be a new foe. For if he could control the beasts of Wolfram and Hart, there was no way their ragtag army could take him out. Angel looked over at Ilyria, as she seemed to know who and what this person -and he used that word loosely- was. She stood with her arms hanging at her side, head cocked slightly to one side, relaxed, with a small smug smile. Buffy followed his gaze, saying, "I guess she knows this dude? I mean he looks kinda like Wes, and I thought for second he talked like him too, and that would be of the good, but this guy? Totally freakin me out now, ya know?"
Spike, Willow, Giles and Xander came up to them, followed by Faith, Robin, and the small slayer army. Charles and his gang came up shortly. Giles finally got a good look at Ilyria. "Oh yes. That makes much more sense." he said. Spike snarked, "Great, oh cryptic watcher one. What makes more sense, if you don't mind explaining it to those of us that don't speak, well, Watcherese."
Giles rolled his eyes and didn't bother to address Spike immediately. He turned to Angel. "I gather that the blue faced girl used to be your colleague, Fred? And that she now goes by Ilyria, correct?"
Exasperated, Angel said, "Yes. And I called you with this problem last month, but you couldn't help us, could you?"
"Well, we were rather busy..." Giles' voice trailed off as the scene before them developed.
"So, you remember now, do you?" Altyron questioned the three. "That is good, because the events that you, and others, have brought about are indeed about to end. I have been sent by the mother to restore the balance in this plain. The Apocalypse is not something that can be influenced to one side or another. The very idea that you three thought you could accomplish this feat disappoints me. I would have thought you understood the process as much as ... Well, never mind. The Mother has sent me to this plane, constrictive though it is in this body, to restore the rightful balance and that means that you three are to be punished."
The three looked at Altyron, their faces a study in the different shades of curiosity. The Hart, so obviously the entity in control scoffed at the idea of a balanced apocalypse. "What? Altyron, there is no balance in apocalypse, it is simply a matter of gaining the upper hand, and accepting the inevitable result. They are by nature evil, and as we are evil, it would best suit our purposes to more quickly bring this circumstance about." The Wolf and Ram, nodded their agreement. They remained quietly observant.
Altyron's impatience with these lower beings began to show in the power that crackled about him, and shone from his eyes and skin. "No. The Apocalypse is neither evil nor good, but simply a struggle. It is the ever constant struggle of good and evil, vying for a foothold in this plane. It makes this plane possible, livable." He turned to Angel and the others. "You, Vampire, are a key element in the battle, as are you Slayer, and all of your insignificant warriors. You are all the Mother needs to keep the balance of battle in equilibrium. The fact that these three demons," his toned dripped disdain as he indicated Wolfram and Hart, "have managed to tip the scales has angered her."
Buffy spoke up, addressing him directly. "Ok, question here Voltron," she butchered his name and he had to decide for himself if it was purposely, "when you say 'Mother' you mean, like, Creator? Or Mother Nature?"
"Your tiny mind could not grasp the true concept of what the Mother is, and I shan't endeavor to explaining it to you, Slayer. Suffice to say, the Mother is the all encompassing power or lifeforce that binds all living things to this realm, and to others. She sits in passive observation on all that happens around her."
"Ok, so, she's like God, right? Not that I particularly buy into all that, but I get it."
"No. She is not."
Willow spoke up, understanding in her voice. "Buffy, she is mother earth. She controls the seasons, brings the roots of exotic flowers to the call of magic's hands, she rolls with the tides, and sings with the hawks in flight. She is the power that allows the connections between all living and inanimate things in this universe to be manipulated by magic, to be shared and used and loved." She smiled, "Mother is everywhere, in everything, but is eternally separate by her own choosing. Neutral. Gaya. The heart."
Altyron listened to Willow's explanation and nodded his approval. "Witch, you surprise me with your level of awareness and understanding." Willow beamed at this praise from such a powerful being. "Yeah, I am wisdom girl."
"All this is very lovely, but what have we done to upset dear old mom?" The Hart's disrespect for the conversation as well as its topic was evident.
"Silence you insolent mongrel! Do you gain joy in tempting the wrath of the Mother? Or her servants? For make no mistake, I will have no second thoughts concerning wiping you out of existence." The voice reverberated off the brick walls of the building that surrounded them. "As it stands you must be punished for your insolence concerning this plane. You do not belong here, yet you try to cultivate it as your own. As a result, you are destined to remain here, indefinitely until you come to terms with both your position in regards to this universe, and your status in the next worlds." His power fluctuated around him, and he spoke words in a language so old even Giles had never heard of it.
The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart all howled. Their demon voices mingling in the night, the cacophony rising to the heavens. The observers could do nothing but hold their hands over their ears in defense. But nothing seemed to help. They watched as the three beasts were reduced in size, their animalistic features giving way to more human ones that somehow seemed to be reminiscent of what they had been. The Wolf was turned to a smaller than average human, with thick shoulders and chest, his body covered in dark hair. His eyes gleamed silver in the night. The Ram morphed into a thin gangly man, with a long rectangular face, wide brown eyes, and large lips. His body was gaunt and hungry looking. The Hart was reduced to a fearful being, timid, paranoid, and frail looking. Short, skinny, and immediately looking to escaped the situation, searching for his predator.
Altyron addressed the newly formed human beings. "You will remain in these forms until I or the Mother has determined that you have learned your lessons. Now, vanish yourselves from my sight." He dismissed them, and as they scattered, naked, into the night, Altyron turned to the army before him. As he stalked to the small hastily assembled force, he noticed the young woman grinning at him from the shadows of the alley. At his notice, she ambled forward, seen only by him. Her brown eyes flashing arrogance and power in a gamine face underneath blonde waves.. Altyron simply watched as she approached.
"Well, that was nicely done, I say. I mean, completely gave those beasts the fear of ... well, what exactly are you anyway?" She cocked her head to the side in askance.
"There is no need for you to know who I am. And how dare you wear the face of a champion?"
Angel and the rest of the group watched as Altyron spoke to thin air. Buffy and Faith looked knowingly at each other.
"Great, not this thing again. Damn, B, I thought we got rid of this big bad." Faith's exasperated despair hung in the air. Spike noticed it as well. The fear that crept into his eyes at the memories of his time in the First's possession and control took Buffy by surprise. He started to shake his head unconsciously. Then Altyron spoke again.
"And why hide from those that thwarted you?" His hand moved in a shallow arc where it hung by his side, and suddenly the entity that had spoken to him, hoping to remain invisible to the others, appeared. Her fragile body gleaming in the moonlight.
"Oh my God." The breathless and whispered exclamation came from Xander. "No. Not her, please, don't be her." His voice rose in unexpressed grief. "Not my girl."
The First grinned in Anya's face, smug satisfaction evident in the sparkle that shone from her eyes. "Oh yes. I can take any dead shape I choose, you should be well aware of that. And as I particularly like to wear the faces of those I kill directly, this one was just ..... well,...neat."
Altyron spoke again, adressing the First directly. "I asked you how dare you wear the face of a champion? You have no right to wear any face of these beings."
"Are you kidding me? This one was no champion. She lived a thousand years and more. She killed thousands, perhaps more, and wrought vengeance on millions more than that. She is not a champion."
"She gave her life in defense of an innocent. Of a mere mortal. In the fight to seal the Hellmouth once and for all. That makes her a champion, and you shall NOT wear her face!" Cobalt sparks rose from Altyron's body, a silent thunder rocked the alley and the First's true form was revealed to them. The red demon screamed in frustration. But Altyron continued speaking. "You have no right to be here. Your place is beneath. What made you think you could come here?" The curiosity with which he spoke sounded so much like something Wes would express that Angel gasped, always a strange sensation for a vampire, even when he does it often.
The First began to answer. "That one," he pointed at Buffy, "was dead. Her time was over; she was gone from this plane. Yet she walks in this world again. The balance of power had shifted and I used the opportunity. I had EVERY right - "
"No." Altyron broke into his speech. "The Slayer's essence never left this plane. She was always here. Even for the three months she was dead, her essence was alive, walking in this world, continuing to fight."
The army watching the confrontation looked confused. Giles' eyebrows shot into his hairline at the information, and Willow and Xander just frowned in confusion. Buffy understood right away. The only way that was possible was through Dawn, as Dawn was made from the Buffy's blood. That was the very reason she could seal the rift opened by Glory. Buffy smiled.
As the realization dawned on the First's face, Altyron smiled. "Now, you too will remove yourself from this plane. You have no right to be here right now. It isn't your time to dwell here. The fact that you have tried means that your time will be delayed." He cocked his head sideways, the corners of his smile lifting into a grin. "Also indefinitely. Enjoy emptiness, for you won't be allowed to touch another soul." And the First vanished in a crackle of blue lightning and thunder.
Altyron strode purposefully over to the small army. His demeanor shifted obviously, the tone of his voice hesitant, but the cobalt power shining behind his eyes remained. "Ok. So, um Angel, perhaps we had better retreat to a more discreet venue. I'll explain everything." The voice was Wesley's, the mannerisms, the demeanor, even the shy smile. But it was the eyes, the cobalt eyes that shifted before Angel, turning to the bright sapphire of Wes' eyes, that struck the vampire speechless. He fell to his knees in grief. "Not him too, please no. Not Wes too. To lose him to death was one thing," he whispered, "but please don't make him do this too. I already lost so many. Doyle, Cordy, Connor, Fred." Buffy reached her hand down to comfort Angel, but Wes was already there.
He reached out to touch Angel's face, forcing him to look at him. "Angel," he said in a voice completely his, and Angel looked up at him, seeing Wesley without the blue granite skin or blue-black hair. Even his clothes had changed from the blue and black second-skin leather to Wes' casual look of grey sweater and slacks. "You didn't lose me. I didn't die. I chose this. It was the only way to win." He helped Angel to his feet. "Now, let's go and I'll explain."
He turned to the rest of them. "Hello Buffy, Faith. So good of you to join us." He looked over at Giles, who was smiling. "Giles," there was hesitation in his voice. "It is good to see you again." Giles nodded, indicating his understanding. "Good show, Wesley. I'm glad it was you, and that you finally realized where your destiny was leading." Wesley looked shocked. Then a tap on his shoulder pulled his attention.
He turned and was engulfed in a hearty, manly embrace, even lifted a couple of inches off his feet. "Damn, English, it's good to have you back." Wes returned the embrace whole heartedly. "Good to be here, Charles. Now, could you perhaps put me down?" When he was back on terra firma, Spike clapped him on the back. "Bad ass lightning you got there, Percy. Don't ever flash it my way, right?" Wes nodded. Then turned to Ilyria, who had watched and waited in silence.
"Thank you. For earlier. For lying to me." She watched him as he spoke. Her head seeming to follow his words around. "It made things..settle... in my mind. I finally understood and was able to accept what happened to Fred." Ilyria looked confused. Wes grinned sheepishly, "You're early Ilyria. You should have waited."
To Be Continued.