A/N: The story was created thanks to my AtS rewatch and obsession with Wesley/Illyria relationship. It's during the process of being written, so I can't say how it will be as a whole, but I can say it will mostly focus on Wesley and a little less on Illyria (although you can have a totally different observation after the beginning), having a lot of Angel (especially Angel/Wes), quite a big amount of Spike (Spike/Illyria) and Lindsey (Lindsey/Wes/Spike). But who knows how it will turn out to be? One thing certain: no slash.

It's already a tradition of mine to publish something on my birthday, so here it is. I'm not so sure it should be published now, but a tradition is a tradition. Also on Ao3.

Hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I did while I was writing it!

(My apologise, I'm terrible at summaries and notes.)

Chapter One: Certain Stage of Grief

The sounds of the fight echoed in the alley the whole long night. And it was a really long night, the longest one of them all.

Few hours later everything was over.

Silence ringed in her ears as she slowly looked around to check if there was anything else for her to kill.

There was nothing.

Just like there was no one left alive. She was the only survivor.

The air around her reeked of death, blood and decay. She didn't belong to the defeated, but somehow she didn't experience the sense of the victory as well. It was somehow reasonable as winning had never seemed to be the ultimate aim in that fight, not for her. For the first time in her considerably long life she hadn't engaged in a combat to achieve a victory. She had done it to kill the grief that had been unexplainably growing and spreading inside her.

Surprisingly, it didn't help. The grief was still present, strong and stinging. Why did it think it had a right to claim her? She was above it, above all humans' silly emotions. Above grief and sorrow.

But no matter how hard she could try to believe it, the facts were indisputable. She was still feeling grief about the death of her guide and teacher. And now also about the ones who had fought with her, shoulder to shoulder in this stinking alley and died.

She wasn't going to analyze the reasons that stood behind her survival. She was no longer indestructible, that was the fact. But she also was the strongest one of them all. And that's why she survived, possibly.

She wasn't as fragile as the human, who hadn't even lasted as long as to bleed to death, torn to pieces by demons that had surrounded him. She had the better strategy than the leader, who had got himself circled and lost his head in the middle of the night, but never failed to keep his dignity intact. She wasn't willing to get caught in emotions as the pet, whose impulsive rage had been one of the things that had brought him to his end.

She definitely wasn't indestructible now as the liaison had been more than willing to prove. But she survived.

Threading over the bodies of the ones she had killed and the ones she had fought with – although their dismembered remnants and ashes could hardly be called 'bodies' anymore – she left the alley and looked around.

The sun was already high on the sky. She had to narrow her eyes in the confrontation with its bright light. Why was it still burning when its champions were all dead? Didn't it sense the feeling of loss the rest of the world experienced?

Illyria needed some time to become aware of the fact it was not the feeling of loss the world experienced.

It was the feeling of loss she was experiencing.

This world wasn't hers anymore. Humans and half breeds were saying that to her from the moment she had come back to this wretched pile of filth. She finally realized the truth behind those words.

It truly wasn't hers. If it were, the outcome of this night would have been different. She would still have her pet. She would still have her guide. She would still have demons and other creatures to conquer and kill.

But her pet was dead and she didn't have anything for herself. The demons were dead and there was no one else left to kill. And the only element that she could ever consider equal to her in the same time having the sense of possession over him was gone as well.

She was alone.

She couldn't say why she cared. Caring was something human and everything that had a human element in it deserved her utter contempt. But there was no contempt in her heart as she walked the lonely road next to the alley where everything had ended.

There was only grief and additionally an inner feeling something was deeply wrong. Not only in the situation she found herself in, but also with this world in general. Why didn't it stop existing when the one who fought for it, protected it with their lives died tragically? Why nothing had changed when in fact everything had changed?

She didn't understand it. This world was still as distant to her as it had been immediately after her return. She knew the basic rules that regulated it, but she found herself unable to answer the simple question that consisted of a single word: "why?". Why fight when no one cared about the mentioned fight and the ones who fought it? Why give the life for someone who wouldn't notice the difference?

Sky was still over this world. Sun was still shining. People were still walking the streets, as she discovered it when she left the abandoned alleys and emerged on some more populated corner of the city.

Few minutes later she discovered something else.

Her subconsciousness led her to a place when everything had started. The wolf, the ram and the hart.

The building was still standing in the very same spot, untouched and unchanged by the events of last night. Just like nothing had happened. Just like the last night hadn't had place at all.

She was surprised and angered with every one of those facts. In the days of her glory when the hero had died people had been weeping for a long time, sometimes even sacrificing their lives in order to join their protectors. Humans had been week then, no more than a dust in the wind. But they were still week. Still no more than a dust in the wind, particles that could be vanquished in a matter of seconds, with one wave of a hand. Maybe they had more strength right now. They thought they ruled the world. But they did not. They were still only pawns in the play of forces they didn't understand. They only grew more pathetic, with no respect for their heroes. With no knowledge of their existence, to be more exact.

Looking at the building that stood there just as it always had been, uninvolved in anything that happened, unimpressed with the events of last night, she started to wonder what was the point. Where was the sense in sacrificing the lives that could change something if the deaths meant nothing? They had failed. They all had failed miserably. So-called Senior Partners still ruled this world. Demons and evil prevailed. Nothing had changed.

Change could compose of the slight difference in reality that didn't really matter. Change was constant and could remain unnoticed. But the change she was expecting would be nothing like that. They fought for the significant change that hadn't occurred. The reality remained the same.

She wanted to walk away from it. Forget about the ones she had fought with and finally begin the life she deserved, full of conquer, high priests and temples. Regain the respect she had seemed to lose somewhere between the death and the return to this wretched world. Live the life she had been given, even though it was the life in the human's body, but with followers and believers, using the abilities and powers she was left with to their fullest.

But she couldn't.

There was a feeling, deep down inside her very own being that prevented her from turning away and walking as far as she could from it all. An emotion. She wasn't able to name it, but she could very much feel it, stinging and reeking through her. It sickened her; it made her disgusted with herself. But she couldn't erase it.

The wolf, the ram and the hart building stood right in front of her, laughing at her, all-mighty and powerful. It was infuriating her, making her mad with envy. They had been nothing in her times, merely a vermin, just like humans. The lower beings remained that way while the disgust-worthy cockroaches that now called themselves "lawyers" had risen above the borders of this or any other world, creating an all-powerful empire. It made her sick just to think about it. She wished to change that. She wished to destroy them, their very own basics of existence and watch with pleasure as they burnt, screaming for mercy.

A half self-satisfied smile spread across her lips as she looked at the building that invoked every negative feeling she could ever have for any living or undead creature. She was ready to conquer it and get revenge for what Hamilton did to her, as well as for what Cyvus Veil did to her human. Something called to her, inviting to plunge into the interiors of the beast.

Usually she wasn't the one to deny a battle cry. But this time she had just seen the champions' deaths and she wasn't especially willing to follow them. So she cocked her head and watched the building as it screamed to her very loudly to come inside. She knew they would swallow her and never let her out. She could fight obviously. She could pass away in the flames of glory. But it wasn't this kind of glory she wished to have. If she had to die again, she wouldn't do that alone, with no followers, no one to repeat her name in fear and with respect. She wasn't willing to die quietly.

So she just cast a last glance on the antagonistic building and ignored it, following the stream of the street, wishing to go the way it would lead her.

The way she could forget.

But the thoughts clung stubbornly and didn't want to go away any time soon. She felt uncleaned, contaminated with the feelings she hadn't invited in. But they made themselves at home and didn't want to leave.

Trying to ignore them, she focused on the people passing her by. They looked at her with laughter, fear or anger. They didn't bow, show their respect or at least acknowledge her superiority. Just like inside this annoying four walls she spent the last few months within, they ignored her. Pathetic, one-dimensional creatures without any spark in them dared to pass her without any recognition, whispering to the others of their kind in the voices full of mock and discontent.

It only confirmed the fact this world wasn't hers.

She could continue to live on here pretending she was one of them, playing the game like she had already done it once or twice. Blending in wouldn't be hard. She could be it, the shell. She could be Fred.

But a voluntary participation from both sides was the point of games. She wasn't willing to pretend she was anything less than she truly was. She was Illyria, the great Old One. No one would make her bend to any mortal's wishes. She served only herself. If lower beings were troubled with this – that was their reason to be bothered, not hers.

Besides, living in this world and blending in would mean being like them. Weak. Pathetic. Nothing more than a fleeting life that goes unnoticed by the universe. She would never agree to be only this, an unimportant petal that fades with time.

This part of her reality didn't change. She would have no master above her but her own free will and her free will wasn't going to transform into any shape humans' would want it to turn into. The only human whose wishes she could ever consider was already irreversibly gone.

Irreversibly... The word stuck in her mind, invoking the wave of intriguing thoughts she immediately followed. What does "irreversibly" meant? Everything was reversible, one way or another. Time depended on point of view. Reality was the matter of perspective.

Everything was reversible.

But why would she care? She did need no people around her. She was all-mighty demon god whose strength was still a considerable power that could help her conquer some parts of this world, if not a whole of it.

She did need no lower beings; her own greatness was enough.

Or wasn't it?

She stopped her march suddenly, in the middle of a street. The sounds of anger, screams and noise from the strange metal vehicles that humans called cars reached her ears. Few men left their shiny shelters and shouted something towards her. She only cocked her head, watching them.

Were they even worth conquering? Tiny mumbling creatures without self-respect, any sense of dignity or purpose in this world. Only those with an aim counted. Only those were worth conquering. And those were heroes.

Who were already dead.

She ignored one man, sending the other to the side of the street with one strike and continued walking. They screamed something behind her. Shallow, unimportant creatures.

This world was empty. Devoid of something, something important. Additionally to this conviction there was also this stubborn feeling of wrongness that didn't wish to go away.

Reversion.

Except for the time she had spent on adjusting to the body she had taken, she had never had a problem with words. They had come and gone without as much as a thought, but this one was stubborn enough to stay and claim its place inside her mind. It made her question things and relive the last events. See it all again, minute by minute, second by second.

She had an excellent memory.

The conclusion was simple: if it wasn't for the battle with the members of the Circle of the Black Thorn, everything would have gone the different way. She had the most utter conviction the "different way" was the right way to go. That was probably the base of the feeling she had been experiencing since she had left that damned, forsaken alley.

A feeling deep down telling her the world should not remain this way for the simple reason it was never destined to look like that.

What if she could change the outcome? Make the things like they should have been, straighten the paths that had been so badly bent in a way that was everything but proper? Reverse the events.

But she couldn't, could she? She didn't have enough power. Not anymore, at least. She had lost the ability to bend time when the shell she was in could bear her greatness no more, limited by its weaknesses.

Humans were week. They struggled. They lost. They died.

She was nothing like that. She didn't struggle – she fought. She didn't lose – she won. She didn't die – she lived.

But the victory was only hers and no one else's. For the first time in her really long and intense life she wasn't satisfied with the winning. Only because of the fact the victory was empty and meaningless. She hadn't achieved anything. Neither had she protected the ones she had fought with – she didn't know whether she cared about protecting them or not as she wasn't sure of many things now – nor had she gained any power or control over her own fate. The grief wasn't gone as well, creating some strong mental hurt she had never known before. She didn't like it.

What much of a victory it was if it didn't give her anything, even the sense of winning?

Still, she should have never cared for the ones that were so below her on the hierarchy of this world, not to mention mourn them. But as she walked the streets, blinded to the world that surrounded her, she mostly saw the one scene from the last events right in front of her eyes; the scene that had replayed itself in her mind few times already and didn't seem to be willing to stop.

"It was good that you came."

"I killed all mine and I was..."

"Concerned?"

"I think so. But I can't help. You'll be dead within moments."

"I know."

"Would you like me to lie to you now?"

Concerned... Yes, she had been concerned. That's why she had come. And that's why these salt drops that humans were always so willing to shed had started coming from her eyes.

They were tears. She had never known them before.

She had never known many things before she got acquainted with them during that very night. Feelings she wished to expel. Thoughts she didn't want in her mind.

Suddenly she stopped again, this time with her attention focused not on the world around her, but on her own body. Slowly, she lifted her hand and touched her cheek with some prejudice. It was still wet; not from the rain that had been pouring the whole long night, accompanying them throughout the fight, but from the tears that didn't ask for her permission, appearing again out of nowhere. Stubborn intruders she did not invite and would never wish to host them in her eyes if they just needed her affirmation.

But they didn't. As everything else in this world, they did as they pleased without asking for her consent.

She was sick of this body, of this world that wasn't even aware of her presence. If she could, she would leave it without regrets in the blink of an eye. But she couldn't. She could do almost nothing. She couldn't leave. She couldn't change time, not on her own at least. She couldn't bring them back to life. Resurrecting had always been beyond her power, even in the golden ages of her glory, but it had never bothered her until now.

Until now. Now was different for many various reasons from which she could name barely a few and understand even less. One of them was still playing in her head, driving her mad with frustration.

"I can't help. You'll be dead within moments."

Had it been the ultimate end? No, it wasn't possible, she simply refused to believe it. The world couldn't be as distant from her wishes as it seemed to be. So unwilling to listen to her demands, to satisfy her needs. So... cold.

She turned her head abruptly, infuriated to a degree she could stand no more. The world wasn't like she wanted it to be, that was an undeniable fact. But she wouldn't be herself if she hadn't altered the universes before so they would serve her own purposes. If she wasn't able to leave this one particular pile of filth, she will change it as much as she can, so it would be more of the way she pleased it to be. More of a place she would stand to live in.

She was ready to test this world for its flexibility. An experiment of some kind, as she called it in her mind, just for the sheer aim of making this place more liveable. She had nothing to lose, she could only gain. Those were only selfish reasons, as she told herself.

Reversion.

That was the most appropriate thing to do: reverse time. But for that she needed power she no longer had. Turning around she closed her eyes and focused on the odors this world reeked of, the unbearable sounds it made, the energy it emanated. The last thing was the only one that held her interest. Every great power came with energy. And she could sense the source of it in any world she was in.

The closest one was the strongest, but she knew all too well what it was: this detestable building that she would destroy in any second with the utter pleasure if she only could. But that was one of many other things she wasn't able to do.

She had to find another source of energy, power she could use. Whether it would be in a form of a wizard who could do a spell for her or condensed might she would be able to devour to bend time herself, it didn't count. She just needed power.

There seemed to be nothing of any use in the nearest distant, but as she managed to silence the unnecessary distractions, a spark from quite afar emerged. Power.

She opened her eyes and without any more thinking followed the direction. The power called her and that was a cry she wasn't going to ignore. Power as she knew it. Power as she craved it. Power as she needed it.

The plan was really simple. Find the source. Possibly absorb the energy or use a donor to fulfill her wishes. Reverse time or bring them back in one way or another.

Simple. And definitely out of the "impossible" field.


It was peculiar. The source seemed to contain in a simple, modest house in the suburbs. She cocked her head and looked at it for a moment, analyzing the situation. Everything that possessed some value – which always meant power for her - in this world seemed to belong to the wolf, the ram and the hart. She deeply detested them, so the question appeared: if this source was a part of their game would she be willing to make a deal with them, even though they repelled her so much?

Disdain. Contempt. Repulsion.

Those were just words. This enemy of hers might have been the most unworthy and filthy devil she had ever encountered, but she was no amateur when it came to deals with any kinds of devils. In her times it had been the devil himself that had been coming to her to make an alliance, not the other way around. Now she had to be the side that would make a first step, but somehow she was willing to accept it if it could guarantee her the positive result of her actions.

She didn't mind the cost that could come with her wishes. She had never been the one to pay any price for the desires she had experienced.

This time wasn't supposed to be different.

The door was open. It surprised her. Was it a trap, prepared specifically for her?

She doubted it. The firm had centered all of its strength into the alley, channeling there all energy it possessed. They certainly didn't suspect anyone to come out of the fight alive, either. So she hesitated no more before entering the building.

The interior of the house was just as simple and modest as the exterior. Emptiness crept in the every corner, the air stank with a strange odor of human's sorrow. She was already too soaked with her own grief to be able to stand another one. Fortunately, she knew where to go as the call of power was stronger here, enhancing with every step she was taking.

After finding the living room she stopped in the threshold. It was the place that screamed the loudest.

There was a single man standing next to a window, his back towards her. With a first glance he seemed to be peering through the glass; yet the curtains were drawn and there was nothing to look at except for the crimson red of the material. He didn't move an inch, but spoke to her in a calm voice, acknowledging her presence.

"I knew you would come."

She tilted her head, looking at the human with curiosity. He was the source of the power that brought her here. She naturally exceeded him greatly with might, but he had magic in him, magic she didn't possess, on the level quite similar to this of Cyvus Veil.

Which meant he was more than capable of fulfilling her wishes.

"I understand you also know why I came," she said, stepping into the room.

The man finally turned his head and looked at her. He was nothing but an average human; one of those she used to pass every day in the corridors of the building to which she devoted so much of her hatred. An ordinary being that just happened to have power she needed. A wizard.

"I know," he confirmed in the same manner.

"That's convenient," she decided, scrutinizing him one more time.

It was odd how in this world even the most unimportant creatures could dare to strive for the might once reserved only for the beings much higher in the hierarchy of universe without burning in the flames of absolute pain in the process. She still didn't like it.

"You wish your heroes to be alive."

That was not a question, but she answered it nonetheless.

"Yes, that is what I wish."

She sensed tiredness in the man. Lack of any spark that was contributed to humans, something she called "a will to struggle and live on". In some way he reminded her of the one she had lost the night before.

"I cannot simply bring them all back to life, you know that."

Again: not a question. She felt disturbed by the bluntness he addressed her with. She had gotten used to such a treatment from the ones she wished to see again, but not from humans that saw her for the first time in their life and not only weren't acknowledging her superiority, but spoke to her with no sense of respect.

But she wasn't willing to react. Not this time. She needed that human to do what she needed to be done and that was the only reason she was merciful enough to let this insult go without any punishment or even so much as a word of disapproval.

"You have three options."

She felt slightly confused by the fact the wizard seemed to be prepared for this meeting, but decided it wasn't something she should concern herself with as the sorcerers were often able to see into the future.

"I'm listening," she said, never keeping her eyes off the human.

"First, the change of time and reality. Angel Investigations never agree to work with Wolfram & Hart. They stay in the Hyperion Hotel and don't get on Senior Partners' nerves. At least not more than they already did."

The wizard didn't give her time to comment on it. He continued talking, in the same moment starting a march across the room. Her eyes followed his every movement.

"Second, we come back in time just before your last meeting and the assignment of targets. Of course I can't guarantee they won't die in the same way they did tonight."

Her mind worked quickly, analyzing all the advantages and disadvantages of presented ideas while she waited to hear the last option.

"Third, we go back to the period before Angel took any step towards joining the Circle of the Black Thorn. Again, no guarantee they won't go the same way."

He stopped talking and walking, sat on the chair next to a round table and looked at her without any interest in his eyes.

She already had her answer. The man apparently already knew that or read it in her eyes, as the only thing he asked was: "Just one last question: are you sure?"

Now she knew the answer to the question she herself had once asked. Finding something worthy might have been the reason enough to live on. Grief definitely was not; sadly, it was almost all she felt in that very moment.

She found something worthy, or rather someones. She needed them to eradicate the grief. To have a reason enough to live on.

"Yes. Yes, I am."