Chapter Two
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Angel's face was grey as he listened to the answering machine tape. Wesley sat with the vampire in his office, eyes closed, biting his lip to keep from crying. It was shortly before five in the morning, and Wes had not slept at all; he hadn't even gone into his bedroom.
" Angel, it's so stupid to hope. We know that Illyria carved her way into the body, destroying her insides. But I can't help but wondering if maybe we were wrong."
The vampire reached over to press the rewind button on the machine. " I know, Wes. I'm hoping, too. If there's even the slightest chance that we can get Fred back, then I'll take it without thinking twice; I promise you."
The Englishman nodded. " Thanks, Angel. I know that—" he noticed Angel's odd look. "—what?"
" Wes…we need to analyze this tape," Angel said. " Run tests to make sure that it was Illyria. It sounds a lot like Fred."
Wes was resisting the urge to curl up into a tiny ball, the way he had seen Fred do whenever she was scared. He sighed. " I know. And that involves recording Illyria's impersonation, doesn't it?"
" I'm afraid so, Wes…do you want me to do it?"
Wesley shook his head, his gaze suddenly focused on something far away. " No, Angel. I have to do it. I'm the only one who can."
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Fred was getting lonely.
She had just finished her meal, a taco made with the fixings that she had found in the fridge, and had put the dishes away. Now she sat at the kitchen table, staring at the hardwood and remembering her five years in Pylea. A lot had happened since then, and Fred had grown used to having people other than herself to talk to; now, stuck alone once more, she wasn't quite sure what to do.
The thought of getting back in her own body was something that was constantly on Fred's mind. She was a physicist, and a good one; she knew a lot about science and the scientific process of creating and testing hypotheses. The way she figured it, there must be something she could do to stop Illyria. The darkness was coming; Fred knew that the clouds descending on the little house were not supposed to be there. Illyria was getting slowly stronger, and Fred didn't have much time to work. She needed to find some way out of here, or at least some way to contact Wesley, so he could get her out.
Fred wandered back upstairs to the library, walking to the centre of the enormous room. She looked around her at the circular walls filled with books, and licked her lips, unsure of where to begin.
" Um, okay then," Fred's voice echoed in the room. " Where would I find the books on Illyria?"
As she spoke, Fred noticed that one section of books to the left and twenty feet above her had suddenly lit up, glowing faintly. Fred ran to the nearest rolling ladder, slid it into place, and climbed up to the section. When she got there, Fred noticed that one of the white marble balconies had moved so that its railings encompassed the shelves she needed. There was an armchair on the balcony, a well-stuffed one with red cashmere covering.
Fred swallowed her amazement and got to work.
Outside, unknown to the physicist, it began to rain.
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Wes found Illyria that afternoon, deeply engrossed in the diamond that she was examining. Wesley stood behind her, unnoticed; he took several deep breaths, and then tapped Illyria's shoulder.
" May I speak with you for a moment?" he asked softly. Illyria regarded him for a second, then blinked, impatient.
" Speak, then."
Wes bit his lip as she went back to the diamond. " I meant in my office, Illyria. Now."
Illyria didn't turn away from the gem. " I shall come when it pleases me."
Wes fought the urge to yell in frustration, and then covered the diamond with his hand, forcing Illyria to look at him. " I have…I have changed my mind. I want you to become her. I'll teach you about love."
Illyria's head tilted slightly, considering, and then she turned and walked the short way into Wesley's office without a word, shutting the door behind her.
Wes closed his eyes and breathed, steeling himself. The hardest part was yet to come; he had to face her as the woman he had lost, and somehow get out with his sanity intact.
He entered the office to see her sitting in a chair, Fred, the woman he adored, but yet not her at all. Wes kept his face neutral as emotions raged inside him; he made himself walk towards Illyria and sit down in his chair behind the desk.
She looked up at him, impatient. " I'm here, Wesley. In her form. What are you waiting for?"
Wesley shut his eyes. " Talk like her."
" What?"
" I said," Wes forced out. " Talk like her. Rant. You've obviously acquired her mannerisms, her speech; I saw it when you fooled her parents. Talk like her."
Instantly, Illyria-Fred's face beamed in the unforgettable trademark smile of the physicist, and Wes pushed a button beneath the desk that turned the tape recorder on.
" Oh, you mean like the way my shell talked!" Illyria-Fred laughed. " Well, why didn't you just say so? I've missed you, Wes. I'm so glad you decided to let me come back."
Wes bit the inside of his cheek until it almost bled; it took all his willpower not to hit her. He looked up into Illyria-Fred's expectant eyes.
" Thank you," he said, standing from his desk chair and walking around to the front of the desk.
Illyria-Fred tilted her head. " Does it help you, Wesley, to have me speak like this?"
Wes nodded. " Yes. Yes it does."
She stood up, smoothing the flower-print skirt she wore. " Will you kiss me, then?" Illyria asked, dropping Fred's voice. Wes swallowed, and nodded again. Placing his hand on Illyria-Fred's cheek, he brought his lips to hers, softly, briefly, and then pulled away.
Illyria-Fred smiled. " That was so sweet," she said in Fred's voice. With slight hesitation, she placed her hands on Wesley's face, exactly as Fred had those few weeks ago when they had kissed for the first time.
Before he could stop himself, Wesley kissed her again, his hands encircling her waist. Illyria-Fred responded, curling her arms around Wes' neck, running her tongue across his lips, asking them to open. Wesley obeyed, willing himself to be back, kissing Fred on that night before all this had happened, to have Illyria just be a bad dream.
However, when he pulled away and opened his eyes for breath, it was Illyria-Fred standing there, looking traitorously like his soul mate but not her at all.
Illyria-Fred nodded, obviously content, and then looked up, transforming back into Illyria. She walked across to the door and pulled it open.
" It satisfies me, Wesley," she said.
" Good," Wes said, forcing down a gag. " Don't ever become her again."
Illyria sighed, nodded, and then went out into the hall.
Finally alone, Wesley wiped his mouth and turned off the recorder, pulling it out from beneath the edge of his desk. Gazing at the little black rectangle in his hand, Wes found himself wondering if anyone else he knew would have gone as far as he just had if they were in his position.
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" Yes!"
Fred's yelp of victory many hours later echoed in the room as if a million people had shouted it back to her. The physicist slid down into the chair with the book, resting it on her lap. It was ancient, the pages musty and crackling; it was very heavy.
Fred flipped pages until she came to the correct chapter, and she began to read out loud to herself, trying to fill the silence.
" All right…the book says that 'to defeat Illyria, the warrior—that would be me, I guess—will have to fight her before her power completely invades the soul's palace of the person.' Well," Fred sighed. " I guess all that experience with whacking demons with sharp, pointy objects is paying off." She giggled nervously despite herself, before her eyes travelled to another part of the page.
" Wait a sec…it also says that, ' to be restored to his own body, the warrior has to unlock the Kei-An box, which holds him prisoner. The box can only be unlocked with the key, which changes with each person under Illyria's control, but usually involves a number derived from a Latin phrase.'" She frowned, biting her bottom lip. " Yeah. That makes a whole lick of a lot of sense. Geez, were these guys on heroin when they wrote this?"
Fred stood up, putting all the books back on the shelf and climbing cautiously down the ladder. Running into the Hyperion room, Fred scooped up one of the markers and uncapped it. She scribbled: Kei-An box, number from Latin phrase unlocks; THE ONLY WAY TO GET ME OUT.
Satisfied, Fred went upstairs to the loft and crawled into bed, suddenly very cold.
The rain continued outside, pounding on the windows and walls, and also in Fred's dreams.
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Wesley, Angel and Gunn were in the computer lab, watching two computers that were running identical sound analysis programs; one held Fred's tape, the other Illyria's.
Gunn leaned over to Illyria's computer and typed in a command; instantly, the tape began to play, and the three men watched the red line follow smoothly across the spikes of sound on the monitor.
There was no sound for several moments, then: 'Thank you…yes, yes it does.'
Angel's brow furrowed as he listened to the tape. " Something's wrong with it," he said. " I don't hear Illyria's voice, just Wesley's."
Wes put a hand on Gunn's shoulder. " Wait a moment."
" Yeah?" Gunn paused the recording.
" Take it back, and turn up the Demonic Frequency Line to its maximum."
Gunn did it, and then pressed play again.
'Oh, you mean like the way my shell talked! Well, why didn't you just say so? I've missed you, Wes. I'm so glad you decided to let me come back.'
Angel looked at Wesley. " Illyria's on a completely different frequency than you are, Wes," he said, amazed.
Wes nodded, starting to pace a little. " I thought that might happen. Often, the frequency of a demon's voice is different from those of humans. The only reason that they can still be heard by the human ear is that they're on a completely different frequency altogether; if they were on ours at the same proportions, we would never be able to hear them."
Gunn spun the swivel chair over to Fred's computer and pressed play, pushing the DFL up; all three men held their breath as the tape began to roll.
Silence. There was nothing. No demonic presence whatsoever.
Wes pressed his index fingers against his lips, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.
" It was her, then," he whispered, relieved and horrified at the same time. " It was her. She was here."
Gunn bit his lip to suppress a smile. " And there's a chance for you to save her, English. You can do it. Fred is there, somewhere, inside Illyria, just waiting to come back."
Wesley sighed. " I never thought that I'd say this again, but I hope so. Dear god, I hope so."
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That night, after everyone had gone back to sleep, Wesley sat in the lab, going over Fred's tape on the computer again and again, trying to burn the words out of existence.
Closing his eyes to rest them, Wes turned the Demon Frequency Line up as high as it would go and ran the tape, letting the silence fill his heart like ice.
And then, the sudden sound from the tape came, nearly giving him a heart attack.
What the hell was that? Wes thought, rewinding the tape a little and pressing play again. This time, he heard the voice very clearly, whispering.
' Reperire præter amare… reperire præter amare…'
Wesley sat back, puzzled. Latin? It sounds like Latin. Strange. Reaching forward, he rewound again, but turned the DFL down to fifty percent.
This time, he was able to hear, faintly, Fred's voice.
' Oh god, Wesley, help me!' The scream that still chilled his blood, and then there was static, out of which Wesley heard the words. 'Reperire præter amare.'
He reached for a pen and paper and jotted down the phrase; his source book was up in the locked office, and Wes was exhausted.
It's Illyria; that much I know, he thought to himself, rubbing his eyes. She's speaking Latin on the tape, at the exact time that, I believe, Fred disappeared again. It must be related, somehow.
Reaching over, Wes took the recording out of the computer and shut it off, covering a yawn. Tucking the little cassette into his pocket, he went up to his room.
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" What the bloody hell?"
Wes turned on the bedroom light to see handwriting all over the walls, done in black permanent marker. It was Fred's handwriting.
Wesley dropped his coat and went to the wall, tracing his fingers over the massive letters: I MISS HIM.
And then, in smaller print on another wall: Kei-An box, number from Latin phrase unlocks; THE ONLY WAY TO GET ME OUT.
Wesley's brow furrowed as his palms pressed into the wall. " Fred? Fred, where are you?"
There was no answer. Wes hadn't really expected one.
Wes reached into his desk and withdrew a marker of his own. As if in a trance, Wes wrote her name on the wall, followed by a question mark, asking silently if she was there, just in case she hadn't heard him: Fred?
Wes looked at the bed, then at the writing again. After a moment, he took one of the pillows, gathered his coat, and went to sleep on the couch. For some reason, he just didn't want to disturb the room.
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Chapter three is on the way. Thank you all for your generous reviews.