Chapter Four

It took most of the day for Illyria to explore, and in her strict view, assess the town. She explored from streets and suburbs to shops and parks. However, every time she drew near the graveyard, she found herself avoiding it. It wasn't till the sun went down that she once again found herself outside the gates. She knew she must go in, but a small part of her kept flashing to the scene a few nights ago. Grief rushed in, and her hand clasped the gate to keep herself from collapsing from the pain. The steel under her fingers began to twist and bend under her tight grip, and she stepped back gasping. She closed her eyes, and for a moment she was back in the lab at Wolfram and Hart, and he was standing next to her. His eyes clouded with grief, and smelling of whisky and the salt of unshed tears.

"We cling to what is gone. Is there anything in this life but grief?"

"There's love. There's hope...for some. There's hope that you'll find something worthy...that your life will lead you to some joy. That after everything...you can still be surprised."

"Is that enough to live on?" She opened her eyes, and realized she said this last part aloud. The grief and pain, so unfamiliar and revolting a scant few days ago, began to ebb by shear force of her will. Feeling ridiculous for her moment of weakness, she opened the gate and walked inside.

Spike had come out of the bathroom to find Layla had once again disappeared. And for once, he was grateful. The darn woman had left him zero hot water, and after that little conversation had made him feel distinctly uneasy and disoriented. He heard Gunn snore in his sleep, and mumble something as he rolled over. He smiled at Gunn with a touch of envy; to lose yourself in sleep without a care in the world. It had been a very long time since he had felt that way.

"You have the right idea, Charlie Boy," he said to himself and crawled into bed and fell asleep dreaming of silver wings.

Night came, and Gunn woke up with a pang in his stomach and a sense of dread. He dreamed he was being watched by men with cameras. 'Creepy,' he thought to himself. He looked around, but found himself alone in the room, except for Spike who was tossing and turning in his sleep talking about someone named Cecily.

He got up, and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water felt good on his muscles, and he checked on the progress of all his wounds. The gash on his side had healed with the predicted scar, and the massive cut on his head had vanished to a neat scab. Pity his inward scars were disappearing at a slower rate, but you had to hand it to their resident angel. She had definitely sped up the healing process. He got dressed and headed back into the room, just as Layla phased in.

"Neat trick," Gunn said with a smile.

Layla smiled back, and looked around. "Illyria has not yet returned?"

Gunn shook his head. "Nope. Must still be out exploring. Just us and Spike, I'm afraid."

Layla looked over at Spike and shook her head. "He confuses me. One moment his behavior is predictable, and the next it is random. Yet, there is order to his chaos. He intrigues, yet irritates me."

Gunn smirked, "Well that's our Spike." He looked at the clock, 8:30. "Look, I gotta get something to eat, so how about we wake up Mr. Paradox and go find Illyria?"

Gunn walked over and shook Spike awake. "Hey rise and shine!"

Spike opened one eye and sat up with a start. "Ok, ok! I'm up! Why am I up?"

"Because it is 8:32, Gunn is hungry, and Illyria is still out," Layla answered.

"Right, as long as we are clear then." Spike shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He got out of bed and threw on his jacket. "Where to?"

Gunn walked over and opened the door, "I saw a pizza joint not to far from here, when we arrived."

"Right, after you then," Spike said as Gunn walked out the door. Then looked at Layla, "You coming?" and followed Gunn out the door, trying to ignore Layla's eyes on his back.

Illyria felt the disturbance before it appeared. One moment she was alone, the next she was surrounded by a gang of five vampires.

"Where do you think you are going, little girl?" the leader asked her as he stalked forward.

"You will depart from my sight, half-breed." She stated without fear. "Or I will turn you and yours to dust at my feet."

The leader grinned. "Let's get her boys!"

Illyria smiled back, and shifted into her full glory. Blue hair returned, piercing inhuman blue eyes hardened, and body armor enclosed her small body.

The leader recognized his mistake too late. Before he could issue the command to run, she had already dusted two of them; the other two lackeys went down screaming as she ripped them apart slowly. The leader ran, and she followed. It felt good. The violence was tangible, where her grief was not. It was an acceptable outlet.

The leader looked back behind him, and suddenly felt a pain in his chest. As he turned to dust, he found it was not the blue nightmare behind him, but a teenage boy who had killed him.

Illyria was on the scene in a matter of seconds. She looked at the boy, about to rebuke him for destroying her foe, but the words died in her mouth. This one was familiar.

The boy looked at her with surprise. "Illyria? What are you doing here?"

Her mouth opened, as old memories and newer recovered ones flowed in, "Connor."