A/N: (written on Wednesday night) They killed Wesley. I cried for about an hour. I vowed never to watch the WB again…then I began to write chapter four. I apologize for the long wait; I had to get all my thoughts in order for this one, and decide how much longer I wanted this story to be.

Thank you all so much for your reviews. It's always inspiring to read them, and they really keep me from getting lazy and not continuing the story. So, thank you.

Chapter Four

Illyria was pacing, restless, for once unsure. She could feel Fred inside her, festering in her heart, living. It made Illyria sick with disgust, to have a human soul still within the shell, keeping the rest of the organs alive, weakening her even more. The heartbeat of another pounded in her chest.

When she had originally taken this body, Illyria had had Fred's soul under complete comatose control. Fred had been as good as completely destroyed…until the depletion of Illyria's powers. Now, Illyria could only imprison Fred, not control her.

The Kei-An Lock was strong; Illyria had seen to that when she had set it. Now, the mental control she had over it was weakening, and occasionally it popped, as it had yesterday afternoon. Illyria did not feel the pain that accompanied the lock's release as much more than a pinprick, but she knew that Fred was in complete agony.

Although she would never, ever admit it to anyone without killing them a moment later, Illyria was worried about how strong Fred was growing, trapped inside that soul of hers. The girl had no idea of what she could do if she wanted to.

Something would have to be done about that little problem.

Looking across the hall, Illyria saw Wesley sitting in his office, working intently. Illyria had seen the ink stains on his hands, and had noticed a new bounce in his step as he left his bedroom that morning.

No. He would not beat her. Wesley had no idea what he was up against.

Something would definitely have to be done, and soon.

Today.

Right now, in fact.

.

" Knock, knock, English."

Wes looked up to see Gunn standing in the doorway with a half-smile and two cardboard coffee cups. He beckoned his friend inside.

" Gunn, nice to see you," Wes said, accepting the cup that Gunn held out to him. Taking a sip, he sighed gratefully as the hot tea flowed down his throat, spreading warmth to the tips of his fingers. " Charles, you're a lifesaver."

Gunn grinned. " I won't comment on the events of the recent past, but yes, I am," he replied. He noticed the utter disarray of Wesley's desk and his eyebrows shot up a few inches. " Been having fun, haven't we?"

Wes put down the tea and sighed. " I can't for the life of me figure this out," he said, pushing one of the papers towards Gunn. " I need to find a number from this phrase."

Gunn read. "Reperire præter amare…I assume this isn't a term for parental custody."

Wes shook his head. " Nope."

" And you're going to explain it to me…now?"

Wes nodded. " The phrase is Latin, albeit extremely roughly translated Latin. It's closer in structure to the demonic language of Calla, but it has to be Latin, since Calla has no 'R' sound. In Latin, this term means 'Find past love'.

Gunn sat back. " Ah. And the number…"

Wes began to stack his mountain of papers. " I believe that the phrase is one part of a key to a box that imprisons someone's soul."

Gunn caught on immediately. " Fred. She's still in Illyria. That's how she came back."

" Yes, I believe so," Wes replied. " The box itself is metaphysical. Opening it involves ripping open the walls of this world using the key, and somehow destroying the mental lock in Illyria's mind. It's the only way to get Fred back into her own body."

" But what about her internal organs?" Gunn asked, shifting slightly. " They were liquefied when Illyria invaded Fred's body. All that's left is a shell, right?"

Wes shook his head. " I believe that all the internal organs are still in Fred's body; the soul keeps them running. When Illyria originally took over Fred, she controlled Fred's soul completely; when she was weakened, the hold weakened. The only thing Illyria could do, unless she wanted to kill herself, was to imprison Fred's living soul within itself. Thus, Fred's internal organs were recreated."

Gunn whistled, impressed. " So you have to find this number…but it could be anything. How will you know if it's the right one?"

A shrug. " I'll know."

" Well, I'll help if I can; I'm not much good with puzzles, but Lorne might be willing to lend a hand," Gunn said, and accepted the papers that Wesley held out to him. " We'll give it a go, and if we find anything, I'll tell you."

" Thanks," Wesley tried to smile.

" Sure. It's for a good cause, right?" Gunn got up and began to leave; he stopped at the door and looked back. " Hey, Wes."

" Yes, Charles?"

Gunn bit his lip. " Listen, I know you liked her before I did. Hell, I think you loved her far before me. I…I wanted to tell you, today, that…she never really loved me. Not in the way that she loved you. Deep down in her heart, I think it was always you."

Wes sighed as Gunn left the office. Pulling a velvet box from his desk drawer, Wes opened it and took out the gold locket, absently entwining the chain in his fingers. He'd found the necklace in an antique shop weeks before, right after he and Fred had gotten together. It was from the seventeenth-century, slightly tarnished, but gorgeously engraved; the inside of the heart-shaped locket was carved with the English, French and Latin words for Love.

It would have looked absolutely gorgeous on her, resting at the hollow of her throat, enhancing her eyes. The perfect gift for the most beautiful woman in the world.

With another sigh, Wes replaced the locket and put the box away. His eyes drifted to his calendar and the day's circled date. Today's date.

" Happy birthday, Fred," he whispered, and got back to work.

.

Fred awoke abruptly, suddenly very alert. She was curled up on her bed, fully dressed, still half asleep and shivering with cold, but she forced herself to stand up and creep to the hallway.

There. In the library. Someone was there.

Fred did her best to force down the internal alarms that were ringing in her rapidly beating heart, drenching her blood in adrenaline and making her feel dizzy. This was no time to faint, nor was it a time to run. She figured that, although she was small, she was strong—could almost beat Charles at arm wrestling—and she was in her own soul, which must give her a small advantage. She would face the intruder, because she had nowhere to run to.

Opening the door to the library, Fred walked silently into the enormous room to see someone standing with their back to her, dressed in skintight leather, with hair that was slightly tinted blue.

Of course it was her. Who else could possibly come here?

" Illyria," Fred whispered.

.

" Charles Gunn?"

Gunn looked up to see the werewolf girl, Nina, standing in the doorway of the empty conference room with a slightly shy smile on her face. He grinned back warmly, beckoning her inside.

" Hi, Nina. How's it going?"

She shrugged. " Not too bad. I was looking for Angel; have you seen him?"

Gunn shook his head. " Nope, sorry; I haven't been out all afternoon. I've been working on something for a friend of mine, and I can't seem to figure it out."

Nina's brow furrowed, and she leaned over him to read the paper. " What do you have to do?"

Gunn sighed. " I have to find a number within this Latin phrase; it's driving me nuts. I have no other clues than that."

Nina sat down beside him, staring at the paper, head tilted a little to the right. After a moment she looked at Gunn. " What about an anagram?"

" Come again?"

She rolled her eyes. " You know…replacing the letters with numbers? A is one, B is two, et cetera?"

Gunn was impressed. " Could be, Nina. Thanks."

She grinned. " Anytime, Charles."

" Oh, by the way, I think that Angel is in his office, but Spike's there, too. You know, the other vampire."

Nina considered for a moment. " You think I should come back later?"

Gunn stole a glance out the open door towards Angel's office. " Judging by the silence, I'd say that they're either locked in battle, or they're about to be. Coming back later is probably a very good idea."

" Right. Well, then," she waved at him. " I'll see you later. And good luck with the puzzle, all right?"

Gunn nodded. " Yeah. Thanks again."

As soon as Nina had left, Gunn called Wesley's office and left a message on the voicemail.

" Wes, about the phrase…I think you might wanna try this…"

.

Spike sat in Angel's office, staring at the blinds that covered the windows. The blond vampire sighed.

" Seems a waste of wall space, to have windows but not be able to open the stupid things," he said, resting his chin in his hand. " I have no idea why you took this office, Peaches."

Angel, sitting in his own chair, sighed. " Spike, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Spike shook his head, feigning ignorance. " Who said I want to talk about it? What's there to talk about? Nothing really to say today, nope."

Angel folded his arms. " Anytime you're ready, Spike."

" Oh, will you bugger off, Angel? I don't want to talk about anything!"

Angel didn't reply, but stared at Spike for a long time. Finally, the blond vampire threw up his hands.

" Oh, fine! What do you want me to say? That I miss her? That she came back and didn't stay? That I'm thinking of killing Illyria to see if it'll bring her back permanently? Is that what you want me to say?"

Angel shrugged. " If it helps."

Spike's hands clenched into fists. " Well, it bloody well doesn't help, Angel."

" Better than keeping it all inside, though."

Spike pointed accusingly at Angel. " That's where you're wrong, mate. Keeping it all inside means that you don't come pressing me for emotional breakthroughs because you're incapable of having one yourself! Well, mister Big Shot, I am not your emotional whore, d'you understand? Don't come to me every time you want to pleasure yourself with one of my—"

Angel cleared his throat loudly, and Spike turned around to see Wesley standing in the doorway, looking tired but very disturbed.

" Er, sorry…I didn't realize that you were having a private conversation," he said softly, reaching for the door. " I'll come back at a better time."

Spike scowled at both men. " Don't bother, I was just leaving," he muttered, stomping past Wesley and out the door.

Angel grinned. " Thanks, Wes. How can I help you?"

Wes reached over and dropped a file folder on the desk blotter. " I really can't stay, but I think you should read it. It's absolutely everything I have so far on Fred's return, and the possibility that we can save her. I'm going back up to my room to get some books, and then I'll be in my office if you have any questions."

Angel pulled the file closer and opened it, extremely impressed. " Wes, you know that if there's anything I can do—"

" —actually, there is something," Wes interrupted. " I hope you like puzzles, Angel."

" Puzzles, huh?"

Wes sighed. " Yes. Puzzles. And this one must be solved. For her sake."

Angel nodded, understanding, and began to read as Wes left.

.

Fred swallowed her fear and took a step forward into the giant room, towards the demon who had taken over her body. " Illyria. Why are you here?"

Her look-alike turned around, meeting Fred's eyes. " I want to be here, Winifred Burkle," she replied, the authority in her voice unmistakable. " If it is my wish, I shall be here."

" I'm guessing you're not stopping by for a cup of tea and a gossip."

Illyria's eyes narrowed. " Was that supposed to be humour?"

Fred forced herself to keep the gaze, not to look away. " I suppose not," she said, her voice only slightly shaky. " But I have to assume that you're not here on friendly terms. After all, we're both stuck, vying for the same body, right?"

Illyria folded her arms. " I came her to tell you to stop fighting," she said. " You cannot be so stupid as to not notice my power's growth. You may as well give up right now."

Fred bit the inside of her cheek to suppress an absurd smile. " Isn't that getting a bit too confident, Illyria? I mean, you never know."

Anger flashed in the dark blue eyes. " Do not challenge me," Illyria replied icily, taking a step towards Fred, trying to scare her. " You know nothing, Winifred Burkle. You cannot fight me, and Wesley cannot fight for you. All is lost for you."

Fred shook her head. " You're wrong, Illyria, he's working hard, he's going to get me out and kill you. You can't stop him, he knows it's me in here and Wesley is going to get me out. You don't have the power to stop h—"

" SPEAK NO LONGER!" Illyria yelled, pushing her hands outward, forcing blue fire from them, the look in her eyes murderous. Fred was blown backward by the blast; her head hit the marble floor, and the stars dancing in front of her eyes was the last thing she remembered.

.

Fred awoke later, unsure of how much time had passed. Her head hurt like hell, but nothing seemed to be broken, and she was able to stand.

Fred knew she had to tell Wes about Illyria. What if she attacked him?

Rushing to the end of the hall, Fred pulled open the door to the Hyperion room and gasped in horror.

" Oh, god…"

The door opened into inky black nothingness, stretching out into forever. The Hyperion room was gone. Illyria had ripped it away, destroyed the only contact Fred had with Wesley.

Fred shut the door and slumped against it, sliding to the floor. After a moment, she buried her face into her clenched fists and screamed out her despair into the house, where the sound echoed, faded, and was swallowed up forever.

.

Wesley opened the door to his bedroom to find Illyria standing in the middle of the floor, her entire body tensed. Her skin was slightly bluer than usual, and her hands were clenched into tight fists. Eyes closed. Her body was using power that seemed to vanish into thin air. The air was hot.

" Illyria? What are you doing here?"

She eyes opened, slowly, as if it caused her great pain. With effort, she unclenched her hands, and that was when Wesley noticed the writing on his walls fading away, bleeding and dwindling into nothingness.

His gaze swung back to her trembling form, and Wesley felt abject dread rising in his blood. There was only one reason why Illyria would have used this much power. Only one reason why the writing on the walls was gone.

But she couldn't have possibly. Illyria no longer had that kind of power; this must have nearly killed her.

" You didn't," he whispered, unbelieving.

Illyria grinned at him, a smile full of blood. " I did, Wesley," she replied, and blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. " The room is gone. Fred will die, and you will not save her. You cannot…beat…me."

She collapsed forward onto the ground, and the temperature immediately dropped back to normal.

Wesley knelt down and turned Illyria over. She was breathing, but only barely. Comatose. Maybe even brain dead.

He sat down and drew his knees in close to his body, suddenly cold. Overcome with hopelessness, Wes buried his face in his hands and tried to imagine the darkness enveloping him, pulling the shade down on this cruel reality where hope was ripped away and happiness never lasted.

Happy birthday, Fred.