Title: Only Mortal
Rating: PG-13 for some violence...
Genre: Angst
Summary: Illyria reflects on the death of Wesley Wyndam Price as she fights the rain of demons that Wolfram & Hart is throwing upon Angel, Spike, Gunn, and herself.
The sound of bones cracking and flesh being torn mingled with the pouring rain. Illyria looked left and right. Angel wrestled with the dragon he so enthusiastically wanted to slay. Spike was tackling a few demons of his own with a sword. He beat each of them mercilessly, and finally killed them by decapitation. Gunn seemed to be growing weaker and weaker by the second. His normally dark skin was lightening; he seemed powerless, but he fought.
Illyria returned her eyes to what she was doing. She realized she had been beating on the very same demon corpse for a full two minutes. The skull was caved in, and brain matter littered her hands. She saw a few more demons heading toward her and sent a kick into one of their chests.
The image of Wesley's crumpled body entered her mind. The way his eyes looked up at her when she was Fred made her realize that she loved him. Fred's memories weren't the only thing to remain with Illyria. She also had that deep, passionate love for Wesley, and she had waited until the last moments of his life to reveal it.
She heard Spike call to her. She looked to him and caught the sword that was soaring to her in mid-air. She slashed a particularly large, brute of a demon's neck.
She remembered how Wesley had treated her with coldness, and bitterness. She didn't understand what he was doing at first, but now she realized that he was grieving Fred. The same way she was grieving him.
She gutted another demon.
She felt that after the battle, Wesley would be there to tell her how hard, and how well she fought. She knew that her feelings deceived her. Wesley was gone, and she simply had to deal with it. How? How would she deal with it? Illyria, monarch of the Old Ones, had never loved. She had never lost anyone close to her. She didn't know how to process everything that was going on. All that she could do right now was fight.
She had to fight. She had to fight for Wesley. She knew that if he had lived, they would be fighting side by side, and he wouldn't have given up. She had to be strong for Wesley. Wesley was depending on her to make sure that the world kept turning the next day.
There was a loud crash. The dragon had toppled to the ground. Angel was still atop it when it hit. Illyria's eyes widened. She looked quickly to Spike. He was looking to the fallen dragon as well. It had wiped out over half of the demonic army. Probably two thirds of what was left. There was a chance. There was hope.
Wesley had always had hope for the world. She remembered how he never gave up helping Angel. Even when he seemed to be evil when he had entered the Black Thorn. He rejoined Angel after Angel tried to kill him while he helplessly sat in his hospital bed. Wesley had hope for the human race, as did she. Illyria had hope.
Illyria started fighting more fiercely than ever. She slashed, stabbed, gutted, gored, and speared her foes. She scrutinized the battlegrounds once more. Gunn was nowhere to be seen. She felt a slight pang in her heart. She continued massacring the demons that surrounded her.
Wesley and Fred had been so close. They always had some sort of bond. Wesley had always wanted Fred. Now Illyria wanted Wesley, but he wouldn't have had her.
Illyria had fought her way through to Angel. He was halfway underneath the dragon. His bottom half was completely crushed. He was unconscious, but Illyria could still sense that he was alive—in the sense that he wasn't completely dead. She could still feel his soul.
She leaned over, grabbed the back of the dragon and tossed it over. Angel's legs were turned in at awkward positions. He had many scratches and cuts all over his body and a particularly large wound in his ribs. She hoisted him up and threw him over her shoulder. She tightened her grip on her sword. She hacked at an oncoming demon.
"Spike!" She called out. Spike was only about fifty feet away from her and was polishing off the last few demons. He thrust his sword into the last demon's chest and looked over to Illyria. The two headed toward each other and met in the middle.
"Where should we go?" Spike asked.
"The Hyperion," Illyria indicated. She motioned over to the hotel not too far away, "take Angel inside. I will search for anymore of the demons. Do not expect me for a long while."
"Well thanks a lot," Spike muttered sarcastically as he towed the battered and broken Angel toward the entrance of the hotel.
Illyria's unnaturally blue eyes scanned the area. Groaning demons and other various creatures lay amongst the rubble and scattered fires. She turned her head quickly behind her. No one stood there.
She ran back into the alleyway, jumped onto a dumpster and landed on the roof of the building that the garbage can leaned against. She started heading in the direction that she came from. She was heading back to the old wizard, Vail's home. She needed to retrieve Wesley's body and give him a proper burial. If she didn't do so, he would be left there to rot.
She burst through the doors to spot him lying in the very same position she had left him. Vail's corpse was not too far from her beloved Wesley. She dropped to her knees and slid the gloves that she wore off. She took his cold hands into hers. She squeezed them tightly.
"Wesley," She sighed, "I fear that you never knew how I loved you until it was too late. I did not know what to do with all this passion bottled up inside of me, and I still do not. Why can't you be here to tell me?" Her voice faltered, "You told me you would explain to me the mechanics of this new world, but you never told me of how love could hurt so.
"I never knew what love was. You were supposed to show me how to handle it. Now it's in here like a million different feelings telling me to do a million different things, and I do not know which feeling to listen to."
She felt a some thing warm fall down her cheek. Her face was blank of emotion, but she seemed startled by the tear. She took her hands from Wesley's and wiped the tear away. Emotion was a new thing for her. She looked over to Vail's body. If only she had gotten there a few minutes earlier.
She couldn't help feeling like this. She had all of these emotions that she could not control. She didn't want Wesley to die. She didn't want the world to end, but it did. She didn't want to have her love stripped away from her. She didn't want to be only mortal.
She slid her hand under Wesley's head and lifted it up. His eyes still stared blankly up to her. She slid her other hand over them, and they closed. He looked just like he was sleeping. She closed her eyes.
She lied to Wesley in his final moments. She had taken the form of Fred, and told him the things that he wanted to hear. She told him that he would be with his Fred in one of the heavenly dimensions. She stroked his stone cold cheek and lifted him up.
She rose to her feet and cradled Wesley's body in her arms. She carried him very differently than she had carried Angel. She held him gently, and lovingly. She held him as if he were made of glass. He was so fragile to her, so mortal.........just as she was.
She wished it had been her that died. Illyria did not deserve to be on the Earth. She was unnatural, and she had brought pain and suffering. At first, she enjoyed the torment that she brought, but then her humanized soul kicked in. She felt emotions and physical pain now. She bled all over, but she did not pay it any matter. It was not important.
She looked to the door and took in a breath. Wesley was in heaven, and she only hoped that she could be lucky enough to join him soon enough. She lowered her eyes to the floor and started toward the door.
A/N: I hoped you liked this fanfic. I was watching Not Fade Away the other day (The series finale), and I decided to write this fanfic. My friend and I were just sitting around and I said, "I'm going to write a fanfic about Illyria. A short one." So...I did. Please review. That would be very awesome.
Rating: PG-13 for some violence...
Genre: Angst
Summary: Illyria reflects on the death of Wesley Wyndam Price as she fights the rain of demons that Wolfram & Hart is throwing upon Angel, Spike, Gunn, and herself.
The sound of bones cracking and flesh being torn mingled with the pouring rain. Illyria looked left and right. Angel wrestled with the dragon he so enthusiastically wanted to slay. Spike was tackling a few demons of his own with a sword. He beat each of them mercilessly, and finally killed them by decapitation. Gunn seemed to be growing weaker and weaker by the second. His normally dark skin was lightening; he seemed powerless, but he fought.
Illyria returned her eyes to what she was doing. She realized she had been beating on the very same demon corpse for a full two minutes. The skull was caved in, and brain matter littered her hands. She saw a few more demons heading toward her and sent a kick into one of their chests.
The image of Wesley's crumpled body entered her mind. The way his eyes looked up at her when she was Fred made her realize that she loved him. Fred's memories weren't the only thing to remain with Illyria. She also had that deep, passionate love for Wesley, and she had waited until the last moments of his life to reveal it.
She heard Spike call to her. She looked to him and caught the sword that was soaring to her in mid-air. She slashed a particularly large, brute of a demon's neck.
She remembered how Wesley had treated her with coldness, and bitterness. She didn't understand what he was doing at first, but now she realized that he was grieving Fred. The same way she was grieving him.
She gutted another demon.
She felt that after the battle, Wesley would be there to tell her how hard, and how well she fought. She knew that her feelings deceived her. Wesley was gone, and she simply had to deal with it. How? How would she deal with it? Illyria, monarch of the Old Ones, had never loved. She had never lost anyone close to her. She didn't know how to process everything that was going on. All that she could do right now was fight.
She had to fight. She had to fight for Wesley. She knew that if he had lived, they would be fighting side by side, and he wouldn't have given up. She had to be strong for Wesley. Wesley was depending on her to make sure that the world kept turning the next day.
There was a loud crash. The dragon had toppled to the ground. Angel was still atop it when it hit. Illyria's eyes widened. She looked quickly to Spike. He was looking to the fallen dragon as well. It had wiped out over half of the demonic army. Probably two thirds of what was left. There was a chance. There was hope.
Wesley had always had hope for the world. She remembered how he never gave up helping Angel. Even when he seemed to be evil when he had entered the Black Thorn. He rejoined Angel after Angel tried to kill him while he helplessly sat in his hospital bed. Wesley had hope for the human race, as did she. Illyria had hope.
Illyria started fighting more fiercely than ever. She slashed, stabbed, gutted, gored, and speared her foes. She scrutinized the battlegrounds once more. Gunn was nowhere to be seen. She felt a slight pang in her heart. She continued massacring the demons that surrounded her.
Wesley and Fred had been so close. They always had some sort of bond. Wesley had always wanted Fred. Now Illyria wanted Wesley, but he wouldn't have had her.
Illyria had fought her way through to Angel. He was halfway underneath the dragon. His bottom half was completely crushed. He was unconscious, but Illyria could still sense that he was alive—in the sense that he wasn't completely dead. She could still feel his soul.
She leaned over, grabbed the back of the dragon and tossed it over. Angel's legs were turned in at awkward positions. He had many scratches and cuts all over his body and a particularly large wound in his ribs. She hoisted him up and threw him over her shoulder. She tightened her grip on her sword. She hacked at an oncoming demon.
"Spike!" She called out. Spike was only about fifty feet away from her and was polishing off the last few demons. He thrust his sword into the last demon's chest and looked over to Illyria. The two headed toward each other and met in the middle.
"Where should we go?" Spike asked.
"The Hyperion," Illyria indicated. She motioned over to the hotel not too far away, "take Angel inside. I will search for anymore of the demons. Do not expect me for a long while."
"Well thanks a lot," Spike muttered sarcastically as he towed the battered and broken Angel toward the entrance of the hotel.
Illyria's unnaturally blue eyes scanned the area. Groaning demons and other various creatures lay amongst the rubble and scattered fires. She turned her head quickly behind her. No one stood there.
She ran back into the alleyway, jumped onto a dumpster and landed on the roof of the building that the garbage can leaned against. She started heading in the direction that she came from. She was heading back to the old wizard, Vail's home. She needed to retrieve Wesley's body and give him a proper burial. If she didn't do so, he would be left there to rot.
She burst through the doors to spot him lying in the very same position she had left him. Vail's corpse was not too far from her beloved Wesley. She dropped to her knees and slid the gloves that she wore off. She took his cold hands into hers. She squeezed them tightly.
"Wesley," She sighed, "I fear that you never knew how I loved you until it was too late. I did not know what to do with all this passion bottled up inside of me, and I still do not. Why can't you be here to tell me?" Her voice faltered, "You told me you would explain to me the mechanics of this new world, but you never told me of how love could hurt so.
"I never knew what love was. You were supposed to show me how to handle it. Now it's in here like a million different feelings telling me to do a million different things, and I do not know which feeling to listen to."
She felt a some thing warm fall down her cheek. Her face was blank of emotion, but she seemed startled by the tear. She took her hands from Wesley's and wiped the tear away. Emotion was a new thing for her. She looked over to Vail's body. If only she had gotten there a few minutes earlier.
She couldn't help feeling like this. She had all of these emotions that she could not control. She didn't want Wesley to die. She didn't want the world to end, but it did. She didn't want to have her love stripped away from her. She didn't want to be only mortal.
She slid her hand under Wesley's head and lifted it up. His eyes still stared blankly up to her. She slid her other hand over them, and they closed. He looked just like he was sleeping. She closed her eyes.
She lied to Wesley in his final moments. She had taken the form of Fred, and told him the things that he wanted to hear. She told him that he would be with his Fred in one of the heavenly dimensions. She stroked his stone cold cheek and lifted him up.
She rose to her feet and cradled Wesley's body in her arms. She carried him very differently than she had carried Angel. She held him gently, and lovingly. She held him as if he were made of glass. He was so fragile to her, so mortal.........just as she was.
She wished it had been her that died. Illyria did not deserve to be on the Earth. She was unnatural, and she had brought pain and suffering. At first, she enjoyed the torment that she brought, but then her humanized soul kicked in. She felt emotions and physical pain now. She bled all over, but she did not pay it any matter. It was not important.
She looked to the door and took in a breath. Wesley was in heaven, and she only hoped that she could be lucky enough to join him soon enough. She lowered her eyes to the floor and started toward the door.
A/N: I hoped you liked this fanfic. I was watching Not Fade Away the other day (The series finale), and I decided to write this fanfic. My friend and I were just sitting around and I said, "I'm going to write a fanfic about Illyria. A short one." So...I did. Please review. That would be very awesome.