Consumed
One hour earlier
Winifred Burkle was in a state of complete nothing. Her eyes moved and stared and yet she remained unaware. Her mouth spoke, her hands clutched the dying figure of her soulmate and yet she was completely remained completely oblivious to it all.
Wesley looked up at her, whilst the crumpled form of the sorcerer Cyrius Vail twitched in the corner of the room. "It was good that you came." He smiled up at her, blood flowing freely from the saber wound in his stomach. Fred heard and felt nothing. Wesley would be dead soon, and there was nothing she could do about it, even if she cared to.
"I killed all mine." Her mouth began. "I was…"
"Concerned?" Wesley offered.
"I think so." Fred was not having a conversation with Wesley. Somebody else was, through Fred's body. Fred had been dead for quite some time now. A part of her died the moment she accidentally inhaled the dust that escaped from the sarcophagus in her laboratory. Things had been going so well for her too. She was the head of the science division at Wolfram and Hart, she was surrounded by friends and workmates, and most importantly of all; she had Wesley. Fred was the type of person that would be loved by a person the moment they met her. And nobody loved her more than Wesley did. She had so much warmth, so much to live for. She had been speaking to her parents on the phone the morning that the sarcophagus arrived. She wanted to tell them so many things, but promised them that she'd call back later. She was very busy at that moment, a brand new artifact had been mailed to the laboratory, an artifact that had markings unfamiliar to everything in Wolfram and Harts records. Wesley studied the runes for hours at a time, while Fred tested the salinity level of the sarcophagus's casing. Neither of them seemed to be making any progress in the task, but neither of them seemed to mind. It gave them an excuse to work together. Fred giggled as Wesley accidentally knocked a beaker from the shelf, shattering it on the floor.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but Fred silenced him with a motion of her hand.
"Don't worry about it Wes, I'll get someone to clean that up later."
"Thank you." He said in a smooth British accent. "I'm suppose I'm getting just a little sleepy at the moment."
"Am I boring you?" Fred asked in mock indigence.
"Not at all." Wesley replied with a slight smile. "However, it's almost two in the morning, and I don't think either of us are getting any closer to discovering what this sarcophagus contains or where it's from."
"Yeah." Fred agreed. "I didn't realize it was getting so late. Maybe we should call it a night."
"Agreed. Did you call your parents back?"
"Not tonight. I suppose I've got all the time in the world to do that though."
Cyrius Vail sucked in a ragged breath. Angel had assigned Wesley to kill the sorcerer. Shortly after Vail stabbed Wesley in the stomach with a sword, Wesley managed to summon a fireball spell that slammed Vail into the wall. By the time he regained consciousness, Wesley was almost dead. Another figure, a female had entered the room and was now conversing with Wesley. She said that she killed all hers. Then realization dawned on Vail. This woman had killed several other members of the Black Thorn, just like Wesley was planning to kill him. How many had she killed? Did the Senior Partners know of this treachery? Was Angel behind all of this? So many questions filled his head.
"Would you like me to lie to you?" The woman asked Wesley.
Wesley moaned in agony and nodded. "Yes, thank you yes."
Fred's soul was in an indescribable state. It was neither conscious nor in any state of motion whatsoever. Her soul was trapped, caught in a place that was not a place at all. For the past few months everything for Fred was dark, silent and unmoving. Time stood still. At that moment however, something stirred.
The last thing Fred had known before she died was that she was lying in her bed, Wesley was reading to her and something was terribly wrong. One of the original demons, one of the Old Ones had trapped their essence inside the sarcophagus and it had infected Fred. Angel and Spike had flown to England to search for a cure. Wesley explained to Fred about a man named Drogyn, an immortal warrior who guarded the "Deeper Well", the burial ground for the Old Ones. If a sarcophagus had somehow escaped from the Deeper Well, Drogyn would know and he would help Angel prevent anything bad from happening to Fred. Fred writhed in pain and then fell from her bed, twitching in a violent siezure before finally blacking out.
Fred's body was now in possession of the ancient demon Illyria. Drogyn couldn't save Fred. Neither could Angel, but most painfully of all, neither could Wesley. Fred's soul was surrounded by thick darkness that pierced her. In life Fred had been slightly claustrophobic. If she were conscious now, surrounded in every possible way by thick black walls, whatever was left of her would be driven into insanity.
Thick black tendrils began to pull away from Fred's soul and for the briefest of moments, Fred was almost alive again. Wesley looked up at her. "Hello there." He smiled despite the searing pain below his stomach.
"Oh. Wesley. My Wesley" Fred sobbed. Illyria had the ability to assume Fred's persona and appearance at will. Wesley had been disgusted when Illyria first displayed this ability, but in his dying moments, he wanted nothing else.
"Fred. I've missed you."
"It's gonna be okay." Fred replied, her eyes still stained with tears. "It won't hurt much longer, and they you'll be where I am. We'll be together."
You'll be where I am. But where am I?
Fred panicked, and was once again lost inside Illyria.