Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was sitting in his office at Wolfram & Hart Law Offices. Books and ancient-looking papers were sprawled all over the desk and the floor, with barely enough space for him or someone else to enter or leave the room or walk around without stepping on a piece of literature. Wes's glasses were lying on top of one of the books on his desk and he was rubbing his temples, a mixture of fatigue and sadness making his head ache.
Just as he was putting his glasses back on to attempt to do more research, there came a crash from the hallway and a harsh, female voice commanded, "Don't just stand there. Pick it up, servant boy." Wesley sighed. Illyria was getting no less human despite his hard work.
"Idiot humans. The world was better off without them," Illyria mumbled, walking into Wes's office.
"Illyria, you are not queen anymore. You can't order people around. Especially the people who work here," Wesley said exasperatedly; he had told her this at least ten times in the last few days and at least fifty in the couple weeks since she had started inhabiting Fred's body. At the thought a shadow crossed Wesley's face. Fred – his beautiful, wonderful Fred. Here she stood before him, only it wasn't she who inhabited her body. Instead it was an ancient queen who still thought she ruled the world who wore Fred's face.
He had tried so hard to save his Fred, she whom he had loved with all his heart and soul for nearly two years, but he couldn't. Staring at the thing which bore her body and dishonored her loveliness was unbearable. Illyria was a constant reminder of his failure and of what he had lost. For that reason, Wes had spent so much time working with Illyria trying to make her into someone who more closely resembled Fred Burkle in personality than in just physicality.
"You order people around," Illyria barked at Wesley.
"I am their boss. It is my job to ask them to do things for me and it is their's to do what I ask. Just like I do what Angel asks me to do because he is my boss" Wesley said, again explaining the way of the world to the ancient queen who could understand none but the one from which she originated.
"In my world there is only one – what is your word? – boss and that is the queen," Illyria said, sitting down on one the chairs, not taking care to remove the papers from it first.
Wesley sighed. "I'm going to take a walk. I need some air." He stood up and left the room, Illyria glaring at him as he left.
Once he left his office, Wesley did not go outside, but rather into the now empty office that had belonged to Fred.
Slowly he opened the door and entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Wes stood staring at the room for a couple of minutes and then he closed his eyes, trying to remember what it had felt like when it was still occupied by Fred. Opening his eyes, Wesley clenched his teeth, walked over to the chair behind the desk and sat down.
After a few minutes of sitting in the oppressive silence, tears started to unexpectedly and silently fall down Wesley's face.
"Why couldn't I save you?" Wesley said to the air, pounding his fist angrily on the desk. "I should have been able to save you. And now I can't even save your memory from being destroyed. Oh, Fred, I love you. Being here without you hurts so much. Why did you leave me? I'm so lost. I don't know what to do anymore. Please help me." Wesley dropped his head onto his arms which were folded on top of the desk, his sobs of grief, pain, and failure overwhelming him.
