She stared at the oak door with her ice-blue eyes filled with what might be confused with anger. In truth, it was contempt for her situation. In the three months following the epic battle with the Black Hand, she had wandered the continent aimlessly and somehow found herself back in this tiny kingdom, seeking out the only one in this dimension with whom she was acquainted with. The desire to turn back and continue her fruitless wandering did occur to her, but there was no purpose in it, no joy. She knew it was not something she could do forever.
She lifted an armored fist and rapped against the door, it shook beneath the force of her strength. She set her arm back by her side and stood unblinkingly, listening for any sounds on the other side. She stood taller and cocked her head to the side when she heard the sound of a chair pushing back against hardwood flooring. Light footsteps approached the door. She waited impatiently, annoyed at the pace at which the being on the other side of the door moved. For a brief moment, she had the sensation of being watched before the lock clicked and the door swung open.
He looked a little worn around the eyes, but otherwise, he looked just like the vampire she'd briefly allowed to align with her.
"Illyria?" He was genuinely surprised to see her. She didn't respond and without waiting for an invitation she barged past him into the small studio apartment. It was an unremarkable room with beige walls and carpet. A mahogany table big enough to seat four was pushed to the far right, under a low hanging bare bulb. His bed was in the middle of the room with ornate looking sheets of burgundy and gold embroidery. The single window was covered with a black sheet, effectively blocking out any sunlight.
Her arrival, however unexpected, was not unwelcome. He had attempted to find her in the city for some time but ever had much luck.
She walked to the table, noticing several thick books, seemingly all part of the same collection. She ran her fingers along one of the tomes. The title was unfamiliar to her, but she was able to get the gist. A book of time reversal and resurrection.
He closed the door and watched her examine the books. She turned back to him with her patented and glare, the same look she'd given him before disappearing.
Angel swung away at a large troll-like beast, hacking at its flesh until it let out a mighty roar and fell dead. "Spike?" Angel called out, glaring against the rain but also preparing for the next assault. "Spike?" He called again, desperate to have an ally to watch his back. But what Angel didn't know is that at this point, Spike was already dead.
He had been surrounded and managed to take down a fair number of his foes before being decapitated by, ironically, a chaos demon.
Angel managed to catch sight of Gunn as the battle began to draw to an end. Gunn clutched his chest and went down, giving the demons the advantage they needed. Angel scrambled to get to him in time, but it was in vain. Angel could hear them digging into his flesh and his screams were cut short.
He fought till the very last demon had fallen before falling to his own knees. He began to sob into his hands, knowing that everyone he held dear was gone.
"I got them killed." He cried, voice breaking. The pain was more then he thought he would be able to endure, but knew it would fade into one more memory for him to brood over for the rest of eternity.
She came up behind him and took in the destruction. "You were their king." She spoke to him and he turned to stare at her. He hadn't seen her often during the battle and assumed the former demon god had perished or abandoned them. Now he knew that wasn't the case and felt a pang of guilt mixed with the pain. "They followed you into battle knowing the risks. Be honored they died for your cause." He blinked the tears away a couple times and when he opened his eyes the last time she was gone.
"I didn't think I'd see you again." He crossed his arms and tried to play it cool. She acted as if she hadn't heard him and picked up book after book. She finally opened one titled, "Resurrectione Autem Mortuorum," she looked over the Latin words with complete disinterest.
"This is a book on resurrection," she commented, shutting it and placing it back on the table before turning. She rose her eyebrows at him, an almost comical gesture on her face.
"Just a little studying," He mused, picking up the book. "There's a lot to know. A lot that can go wrong with these kinds of things." He opened it to a dog eared page, something he wouldn't normally do, but he'd run out of post-it notes. He crossed his arms, still holding the book in his hand.
She kept her eyes trained on him, finding amusement in the moment. "Which of your followers do you intend to resurrect?" She feigned disinterest, but they both knew she would be happy to reunite with them, even if she saw herself above them.
"All of them." She met his gaze now and they turned to face each other. He still had his arms crossed, but now had a look of determination. "The Senior Partners aren't going to leave the fight at that. They won't stop until they've been destroyed or they win." He smiled at the being who had killed one of his best friends. "I need them and I need you." She looked back to the books and wondered how he planned on accomplishing such a task.
"I also want to free Wesley from the Wolf, Ram and Heart contract that's holding his soul prisoner." At the mention of Wesley Illyria was pulled back to the last time she saw him.
Illyria charged into the large room where Wesley and Vail had been fighting. "Wesley!" she cried as she caught him falling backward. She looked down at his wound, then back at his face. "This wound is mortal." Her voice was grim. She lifted his head up into her lap. A feeling of hopelessness filling her. She had been too late to save him.
He placed a hand on his wound. He looked up at her. "Aren't we all?" he smiled morbidly. "It was good...that you came."
"I killed all mine, and I was..." she looked back down at his wound again. Assessing the damage.
"Concerned?" He asked finishing her sentence.
She looked back at his face. Some form of truth dawning on her. "I think so." She looked at the wound once more then sadly and quietly she said, "But I can't help." She looked to his face again, and said a little louder, "You'll be dead within moments." The grief she felt, speaking the truth, was overwhelming. It felt like it was crushing her.
Looking off into space and not seeming to care Wesley replied, "I know."
She didn't want his face to fade from her memory as time went on. As so many things did. She stared at him, making mental notes of his features, his voice. The feeling of his hair. She sighed internally. "Would you like me to lie to you now?" she asked, hoping that if she couldn't help save him, then at least she could make his last moments meaningful.
He looked at her now. Seeming to really see her, since the first time he met her. "Yes...thank you, yes," he said gratefully, hoping to see the women he loved before he left that world.
She touched his face gently with the fingertips of her free hand. Her skin matched his, they were both so pale, and cold.
Wesley slowly began to lose himself in death. But he managed to whisper to Fred, "Hello there."
Sobbing loudly, and trying to hold back tears. "Oh, Wesley...my Wesley," she said trying to smile though her grief.
"Fred...I miss you," he said slowly, but happily. Falling even deeper into his death. Illyria held him closer, not wanting him to leave her.
She leaned down and kissed him once on the lips, then once on his forehead. "It's gonna be okay. It won't hurt much longer, and then you'll be where I am." She started to cry. "We'll be together."
"I-I love you," he said slowly, smiling up at her sad face. His heart was so slow now, the tears wouldn't stop.
Illyria sobbed even louder. Trying hard not to let anymore tears spill. "I love you." It was the truth, Fred had loved him. Even in her memories when she was with Gunn, she had loved Wesley. She felt his heart stop.
"Illyria?" Angel sounded concerned and when she opened her eyes they were blank. She stared at him for a moment before he felt he could speak again.
"If you wish to help, I need you to go to England. Find a man named Rupert Giles. He'll have information on a powerful witch, Willow Rosenburg." Illyria stared amused that he was making requests."Last I spoke to Giles, Willow wasn't on this plane of existence, but perhaps he'll be able to give you more information." He placed the book down and ran a hand through his hair. "Once you've found her location, get her and bring her back."
Annoyance clouded her eyes. "I do not bend to your will. If you wish to have someone found-"
"I'd go myself if I could, believe me. No one knows I'm still in LA and with this target on my back I can't go traveling around the world looking for her." He was making sense, but she was still annoyed.
"Would they bother if they knew all your companions are dead?" She turned and stormed her way back to the front oak door. She opened it, and looked back briefly at the books sat on the desk and contemplated Angel's plan. She stepped out into the light and slammed the door behind her.
"My love...Oh, my love."
Angel plopped down in one of the chairs in front of the table. He wasn't sure she'd comply with his request but believed part of her would at least want to try and save Wesley's soul. He sighed and opened the first volume in the Resurrectione Autem Mortuorum text. A skilled witch wouldn't have any trouble deciphering these spells, which is why he needed Willow. He could only hope Illyria would return and bring Willow with her.