PG-13
Drama/Action/Adventure/Romance/Horror
Spoilers: Within season finale, 'Not Fade Away'
Disclaimer: Just like the frogs outside don't shut up, I don't own any of Angel's characters, or the show for that matter, they are all property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy respectively.
A/N: Blah… Will need to wrap this up soon, unfortunately, but there's a few things sucking away my time at the moment (and none of them are pretty), so updates will most likely take a while.
Vail's legacy in the past had yet to betray him; his menacing existence itself had won him a chair in the circle of the Black Thorn, and his ability to see through unnatural folds in time had allowed him to restore the seat time and time again. In a way, he was the grandfather of the Black Thorn, the yet-to-retire veteran, and in a way he was the leader's council.
Yet when he'd seen the fold replay this time around, he was left in utter terror at what a simple misjudgment had left him with—nothing. So when the ex-watcher came strutting into his manor, he found himself determined to prevent the past, even if that meant killing Wesley sooner then the time before, or so now that he knew what the man was up to.
But something underneath it all, his hidden desire to become the Black Thorn's best—the Black Thorn's president, leader, its master, he had not alerted the others. No, they would see their fate with their own eyes, and repeat the misery once more.
Everything had been set, his sorcery at its best, the stage, and as he'd seen when Wesley walked in, the knife. From there it was only a matter of time, yet as he decided to make his killing blow the all-powerful god-king he'd only ever read about entered the scene.
It had taken him a few moments to realize who she was, that she had been the previous time this day was designed in the disguise of a mortal. Yet upon this, he knew what was to become of him… he just couldn't let it happen.
The question slipped out before he could stop it, only lingering in his mind because of the flicker of emotions displayed across her face. "Do you love him?"
She couldn't answer… or wouldn't. Either way, he was left with an opening. His grip tightened around the knife's handle as he strode forwards, pulling back his arm with full intention of striking the mortal behind Illyria for the second time… and hopefully the last.
This was a sincere drag for him—kick there, stake there, anything painful enough to keep them at bay. Illyria's earlier words had indeed been taken to heart; after all she'd been a bit… off all day, even for her.
So far though, he had the would-be president dead and about a dozen of her minions eligible victims for a vacuum cleaner. But the more vampires Charles killed, the more seemed to come.
Adrenaline surged through him as he rushed for the door, shoving aside several vampires to reach his destination. His great moment of glory though was cut short as the tip of his foot caught on the edge of a stair and he tumbled to the ground.
And upon rolling over onto his back, the long-time demon hunter knew what would become of him… if he didn't stop it first.
Illyria saw Vail proceed several precious seconds after he made the movements, and only just managed to grab his wrist before the blade pierced Wesley's stomach. The sorcerer glared at her through narrow eyes, and roughly placed his free hand over hers, scorching the flesh on her knuckles.
Grimacing, Illyria managed to keep herself from pulling away, in fear for the mortal whom she'd already risked so much for-- after all that effort, it would be pointless to allow him die because of a third-degree burn.
"Silly girl," he chastised, "Even if you mend what was previously destroyed, someone will have to die in his place."
"Then this 'someone' shall be you," Illyria informed him angrily, meeting his glare with one of her own.
Vail laughed, a light chuckling that was utmost disturbing in the present situation. "Oh, no, my dear. I am already destined to die, as is he-" –he tilted his head towards Wesley-"-so if you are to save him, then another of your own will die in his place."
"Then it shall be me," She whispered in response, her eyes flickering downwards for a moment as she added another of her own hands to the handle of the knife and shoved him backwards before attempting to free it from his grip.
The sorcerer's grip though revealed itself to be too strong, and from his own position he countered her actions with pushing the knife lower and forwards, even with her heart.
"Stop it!" Wesley commanded harshly, surprising himself by the action. "Illyria, I thank you, but if the apocalypse is truly coming then it is you, not me, Angel will need to help prevent it."
"You won't be with Fred if you die now, this way," Illyria stated coldly yet quietly. "She's not dead…"
"Yes she is," Wesley responded, his voice trembling, "I saw her die."
"She's not alive either," Illyria continued, choosing to ignore what he'd said. "When I… when Fred was infected, her soul—her very essence was destroyed. She's nothing now, not dead, not alive… like she was never anything to begin with."
The words were harsh, this Illyria knew too well. But it was time he knew the truth… no matter how hard he tried, he'd never be able to revive Fred as more than a memory or a lie, and he'd never see the real one again, even in the afterlife.
A/N: Sorry, but due to time, I've got to end it here…
WhiteRabbit: Thanks tons!
Hieiko: Um… well, I guess, but Illyria or Wesley?
Tp96: You're welcome… I guess, and good luck! Will have to go read it…
Khrystyne: Just wait and see.
Wesfan1234: Nods Exactly! Consequences, oh, consequences… a.k.a. lots and lots of fun…
Split Butterfly: Peachy? Is that a good or bad thing?
Tariq: Hi, thanks, and you're welcome… but for what?
Tarvalie: Ooh… Thanks.
Williams Girl: slaps beta reader There you go. Uh… as for the pizza thing:
Illyria stared at the… the thing that Wesley had just placed on her plate, summing it up as best as she could. Triangle, covered mostly in a gooey off-yellow substance littered with round red things that resembled meat. Timidly, she poked it, and upon receiving no reaction decided it was relatively safe, but still…
"Do you have a tester, Wesley? I would not trust this," she announced bitterly, poking the thing once more.
Wesley rolled his eyes and took a bite of his own, waiting a second before informing her, "I haven't rolled over and died yet, have I?"
Illyria nodded, taking his statement into consideration as she experimented with ways to hold it without the gooey substance slipping off. Finally discovering how to keep it in her grip, she carefully, if not reluctantly, bit off the tip, swallowing a piece of pepperoni whole.
Contorting her expression into a look of complete disgust, Illyria made a point of tearing the pepperonis off of her slice before trying to bite into it again. This time, the cheese was stubbornly refusing to separate, just become stringier, so as she placed the pizza down this time, Illyria pulled off the cheese and from there just ate the bread and sauce.
"You know," she told Wesley after finishing her piece, "This isn't horrid."
Wesley merely shook his head as she reached for another piece.
Shahid: Uh… thanks for Vail's name, but from there… uh, no.