STRANGE

Author's Note- This is just a one shot about Illyria and how she's trying to adjust to the world, also it's from her POV. Hope you like.

I own nothing, all rights go to their respective owners

I don't understand this new world. It is strange to me. Unfamiliar. No one worships me here. They don't even fear me. Even the lower beings around this place call me names that are supposed to be humorous. I don't laugh.

The human who said he would guide me through this world was drunk.

He was sleeping and making odd noises from his nose. I hear it is called snoring.

I have never snored.

I moved quietly out of his office and walked the halls of the place that is called Wolfram and Hart. It is strange to see so many demons in business suits, talking on odd little silver or black pebbles to other people from other places.

I do not see the pleasure in the world.

In my world, I was a God, a warrior and now...I am not quite sure of what I am.

The man, Wesley, he stripped me of most of my powers and now I cannot manipulate time, I cannot open portals or do most of what I used to.

I am even being bested by the half breed Spike sometimes.

Although I will admit that I enjoy pummeling him too. He's soft and I can almost feel his ribs crack under my fists when I hit him.

He's strong but not as strong as me and that gives me some small measure of joy I suppose.

The one who always seems to be scowling, their leader who I believe is called Angel, once Angelus, does not like me very much. Spike says it is because I look like Fred, the shell I am currently bound to.

As I walked past his office, Angel emerged and I stopped, staring blankly at him.

He glared at me although I am not sure what I am supposed to have done, nor do I care much about his feelings.

"Oh it's you." He growled.

He then folded his arms and looked down at me.

"Why aren't you with Wesley?"

His tone was accusatory and I frowned only slightly.

"He is drunk and asleep. To be in is presence would only be to waste my time. Plus he snores." I added.

"So you thought you would just take a walk, is that it?"

I stared at him, blinking again, my head tilting to the side questioningly.

"What else is there to do?"

"I dunno, you were a God once. Surely you can think of something to do other than walk around my building." He spat.

This is anger. I realize and I wonder why my walking around is bothering him so much. These half breeds, especially ones who have a soul, are very curious to me.

"Are you saying that this bothers you?"

"You being here? Yeah, kinda." He told me, his teeth clenched.

"Where else should I go?" I asked.

"Anywhere but here."

His tone was threatening and I would not stand for it. So I stared right back at him

"Fine. I shall go back to Wesley's office."

"Good. So long as you're out of my way."

I stopped as I turned away, remembering Spike's teachings in the art of giving insults and turned back again to face him.

"Angel is a girl's name." I said and then turned away as he stood there, speechless.

Hm. Spike was right. That was somewhat...fun.

Back in Wesley's office, I found him staring out of the window, a glass of that disgusting amber liquid in his hand (I took a sip once, never again)

He did not even look up as I walked in and shut the door rather loudly behind me.

"You are awake." I noted, standing by his chair.

"How astute you are." He slurred.

"Well, awake but still drunk." I added, a little distastefully.

He then looked up at me, his eyes hazy.

"And why does that matter to you, you egotistical, jumped up smurf?"

Smurf. That sounded like an insult.

"You continue to call me a smurf. What is this creature?"

He just waved his hand and I shook my head.

"You said you would be my guide and so far all I have learnt from you is that you drink an excessive amount of alcohol and you snore, something I have not heard before. I am losing patience with you."

He frowned as he stood, on unstable legs, the drink nearly spilling in his glass.

"Oh are you? And what do you plan to do about that then?"

I opened my mouth to speak then shut it again.

"There's nothing you can do, Illyria. You are no more than a demon now. Yes, you were a God once before but you're not now...get used to it."

He then brushed past me and left his own office.

I had not been lying, my patience was wearing thin. I felt angry, frustrated, all emotions I was not used to feeling. I had to do something.

I made my way down to the training room and found Spike sitting on a bench inside, smoking on a white stick.

"I wish to fight." I told him.

He stood, holding his hands up.

"Not now, love. I'm on a break."

"I feel...angry and I need...I need-"

"You wanna a release, yeah?" He asked with a grin.

I did not understand the context, nor did I understand why he found the sentence amusing.

"I wish to hurt something, namely you."

"Well, can't say you beat around the bush. Maybe you should try talking. It sometimes helps." He suggested.

I tilted my head a little. Talking about what angers me, that was something I was not accustomed to.

"And you believe this would quell my anger?"

"Might. It would also save you beating the shit outta me." He said with a knowing smile.

I nodded.

"Fine. How do I start?"

Spike shifted on the bench so that he was more comfortable.

"Well, you tell me why you're angry and I'll give you handy hints on fixing the problem, if I can."

I nodded.

"Very well. Wesley is supposed to help me by being my guide in this world. I do not understand it. Any of it. He is supposed to help me adjust to it but instead all he does is drink and sleep."

Spike nodded along as he listened to me.

"Well, see the thing you gotta realize is, love, is that the love of his life is dead and here you are, walking around in her body."

I listened, unblinking.

"I see and this...makes him drink?"

"It bothers him, yeah. See, you look like Fred but you're not her and that must kill him. He's trying to cope the only way he knows how."

"He is grieving." I realized.

Wesley had spoken of this once before and I don't understand it. I have never felt grief when someone of my kind were killed. It was just the way things were and I had accepted that.

"How long is the grieving process?" I asked.

Spike shrugged.

"It's different with everybody but hey, while he's working through it, you can come and talk to me. That sound ok?"

"You do not grieve?"

"Oh I grieve. I just deal with it a little better. Seen so much death and destruction in my lifetime, it's hard not to get used to it." He muttered with a little sigh.

I assumed that meant he was sorry for what he had seen.

"There is something else."

Spike nodded.

"Wesley, when he is drunk. He calls me 'smurf'. I am curious as to what this means."

Spike chuckled and I felt angered again. Did he find some pleasure in my confusion?

How dare he!

"Sorry, love." He said at my look and then began to explain.

"A smurf is a blue cartoon character. He calls you a smurf because you're blue-ish and so are they; the characters."

I tilted my head.

"Hm. I think I understand. Is it a term of affection?"

Spike frowned.

"Where did you hear that word?"

He knew that I didn't know anything about affection.

"The blonde vampire by the desk talks about it most times to whoever wants to listen. She likes unicorns and painting her nails."

Spike nodded.

"True. She does, and in Wesley's case, no, it's not an affectionate term. He's...being I guess, a little insulting."

I looked down at the floor.

"I thought as much. He does not like me."

Why was I sad about this? Why did it trouble me? It must be this shell. It feels. I do not.

I left the training room, more confused that ever.

Would I ever understand this strange world?