A/N: Nearing the end, folks! This is probably the second- or third-to-last chapter. Hope you enjoy.
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Chapter Seven
Wesley backed away from the bed blindly, knocking over a tray of liquids, hearing their little glass storage bottles smash to the floor. He could see nothing but Illyria, her blue eyes wide open, alert. Ready to kill, it seemed.
Watching him. Focused only on Wesley. Those eyes were like twin blue lasers set to burn out his soul.
Illyria looked down at her body, strapped onto the hospital bed. " Wesley," she said softly, controlled and calm. " All was dark, Wesley, and only now do I awake to find myself moved. Who dared to touch me? Who did this to me?" She was not confused or frightened, not in the slightest; she was interrogating him.
Wes swallowed hard. " Illyria, you used too much of your power, and you went into a coma because of it. Because you destroyed part of Fred's soul's house." Watching Illyria there, so close, so powerful, able to kill him in an instant, it occurred to him now the abject stupidity of going into the hospital room with her. Angel was definitely going to kill him for this one.
Illyria glared. " I did nothing of fault, Wesley; I only tried to rid myself of a weakness. Surely you can understand that; surely you have had a virus, an illness, living inside you?" Wes turned away and closed his eyes at the memory of Fred dying in his arms as Illyria continued to bate him. " Your body works to rid itself of the virus before it takes over; this is what I was trying to do—"
" Stop it!" Wes hissed, turning to face her again. The anger that had caused the outburst was fading now, but Illyria was smiling, knowing she had gotten a rise from him. She settled back.
" I can remove myself from these bonds you have placed," she said casually, and suddenly Wesley understood.
" Yes," he agreed. " But you won't. Not now. Not until it suits you."
Illyria stared at him. " Perhaps not. Or perhaps I will simply kill you now."
Wes folded his arms. " You won't do that, either. I know you won't."
" You know nothing, but yet you speak as though you have confidence," Illyria said softly, tilting her head to one side, inquisitive. " Interesting."
" Much like the snake has interest in the bird's nest," Wes replied, his voice equally as soft, approaching the bed. He reached over and unfastened the straps that held Illyria's body to the bed, and then stood back. " I have nothing with which to threaten you, Illyria, and I know that you can kill me. If that is your wish, than take your best shot."
Illyria stood up, stumbling a little at first but masking it rather well. She flexed her hands, and then looked up at Wesley again with the facial equivalent of a dismissal.
" I have decided to let you live," she said. " For now."
Wes did not show any reaction in his face. He had known that Illyria would spare him; it was evident in her voice. She doesn't scare me anymore. " Thank you," he replied. " If I let you go, will you promise not to cause trouble?"
Illyria didn't respond, but only stared at him.
" I'll take it that that was a stupid question," Wes said, opening the door and allowing her to walk out before him. " Never mind."
Illyria turned to look back at him. " Wesley," she said. " You have no idea how weak you are."
As Illyria left, Wesley turned to the two shocked technicians.
" I want continued surveillance on her," he said. " And you had better call Angel now and tell him that Illyria is awake. If she does anything, Angel should come and get me. Do you understand?"
With their nods, Wesley went back to his room. The need to sleep had suddenly overtaken him, and Wesley fell into his bed and was dead to the world as soon as he closed his eyes.
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In his dreams, Wesley saw Fred lying crumpled on the floor of a carpeted hallway, bleeding slowly from a cut on her head, unconscious. The blood had tangled her hair a little, but she was still absolutely beautiful.
It was so cold in the hall that Wesley could see his breath, and he felt himself trembling, freezing. Illyria was disintegrating this place, eating through it slowly, like a virus. Fred's soul's house. This was Fred's prison, this place, and seeing it made Wesley more determined to rescue her than ever before.
Wes walked across the carpet to Fred and knelt down beside her, reaching out a gentle hand to smooth her soft forehead and linger slightly on her cheek. Fred shifted slightly under his touch.
" Mmmh…Wesley?" her voice was just a mumble, but Wes smiled.
" Yes," he replied in a whisper; he placed his hand in hers when he saw Fred trying to struggle to full consciousness. " No…shh…it's okay, Fred, stay asleep. I'm here. I'm with you."
Across the hall, Wes saw a key lying on the floor by a door—a key with the Eye of Animus embedded in it. He crossed the hall and picked up the key, turning it over in his hands. After a moment, Wes tucked the key into his pocket and picked Fred up in his arms, resting her head against his chest. Without having to know or ask, Wesley carried Fred up the tiny set of stairs to the loft bedroom and placed her gently on the bed, covering her with the quilt and placing the key in her hand, smoothing Fred's hair again.
" Sleep well, Fred. I love you."
Then, with a kiss to her forehead, Wesley was wide awake and opening his eyes to his own bedroom, lonely and dark, wishing that he'd slept longer.
Oh, well. Back to work. It was just a dream.
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Fred came to slowly, with a soft groan. The last thing she remembered was sticking the key into the lock, and then she had been blown backwards by some sort of invisible explosion and she had hit her head on the wall, effectively knocking herself unconscious.
Stupid thing to do.
Now the world was slowly becoming clearer, and Fred realized that she was lying among the soft, fluffy pillows of her bed in the corner of the loft, rather than sprawled in the hall where she was last. The key was tucked into her left hand.
What the hell?
As Fred sat up, she suddenly remembered warmth, a kiss on her forehead, Wesley's voice, and she smiled.
" He's with me," she said softly.
She knew, unconsciously, why the key hadn't worked in the door; Illyria was awake. Fred had roused her by trying to unlock the door, and the same force had blown her across the room. The key wouldn't work until Illyria was dead. Until Fred killed her.
Fred swallowed her fear and went to go get dressed.
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" Cats and kittens," Lorne announced. " We have succeeded!" He and Gunn closed the door of the conference room behind them and sat down in separate chairs, joining Wes, Angel and Spike.
" Did you have any trouble finding it?" Wes asked.
Gunn shook his head. " None, except the sales girl had the IQ of an amoeba."
Lorne rolled his eyes. " A dead amoeba, maybe. Giving dead amoebas a bad name."
Spike grinned. " Dumb blonde, eh?"
Gunn nodded. " How she possibly got to run a magic shop is beyond me," he sighed.
" Especially with those extremely dangerous Red Dragon Orbs sitting on the shelf behind her," Lorne added, and Spike and Wes winced. Wesley folded his arms.
" So…where is it?"
Angel's brow furrowed. " …Aren't amoebas dead anyway?" he said softly, asking no one in particular.
Wes suppressed a smile as Gunn gave him the paper bag. Opening it, Wesley shook the Eye of Animus onto his palm, and then placed it on the table so everyone could see.
Spike whistled. " Wow…now that's bling-bling for you."
The Eye was about an inch and a half wide, made of blue glass with black and white as the pupil. The glass was set in gold, and gold spirals curled out all around the rim of the Eye, giving the appearance of lashes.
Wes inhaled silently. " Thank you, Gunn and Lorne," he said softly. " This helps so much. This is the only way to correctly rescue Fred."
" Why d'you need it?" Spike wanted to know, reaching forward to touch the Eye. " I mean, this'd look good on a big gold chain, too."
Wes shook his head. " The Kei-An Box that imprisons Fred is metaphysical; it does not exist in this world. Once the lock has been sprung, the walls of this dimension have to be cut open in order to destroy the Box completely, and the Eye of Animus is the knife, you might say, that has the ability to do that." Wesley did not mention the key that Fred had.
Spike's hand, which had been inching slowly towards the Eye, suddenly stopped and withdrew. " All right, then…I won't be touching that…"
Angel grinned. " Wes, do you know how it works?"
Wesley nodded and took the Eye of Animus off the table. Stretching his left hand out, Wes carefully placed the Eye on the back of his hand, and suddenly it came to life; the gold 'lashes' spread out over Wesley's skin, snaking through his fingers and around his wrist to bind itself to his hand. One of the tendrils wound up around Wes' index finger and covered the first knuckle with gold, forming itself into a sharp, curved nail.
Gunn's eyes were wide. " Okay…creepy. Definitely not bling-bling."
Wes held his hand out, palm parallel to the floor. He took a deep breath. " Reperire præter amare," he whispered, and his fingers curled in and turned up, catching something. Wesley twirled his index finger twice, twisting an invisible rope around it, and then drew in the air with the nail: 7, 7, 9.
The air suddenly crackled, and a brilliant flash of white-blue light blinded everyone and blasted them away from the table and onto the floor. Wes was thrown into a corner, and another white flash burst in his eyes, blinding him. Then, he heard the scream.
Fred.
Through the bright whiteness, Wesley saw Fred curled on the floor of the bedroom in her soul's house, shaking uncontrollably. She was crying out in pain, sobbing, wracked in agony.
Wesley suddenly remembered the phone message, remembered Spike's account of Fred's return, and he knew why.
" Oh, god, Fred!" Wes whispered, realizing what he had done. He desperately tried to make her notice him, but his voice was echoing and he knew that Fred couldn't hear him. Wesley could only watch the woman he loved writhe in the pain that he had caused her.
Then the vision ended as quickly as it had occurred, and Wesley was back in the conference room, back in the real world, sprawled in a corner. He slowly pulled himself to a sitting position and looked around the room to see the others watching him very carefully.
Gunn was the first to speak. " What the hell just happened, Wes?"
Wesley looked down at his hands to see that they were shaking a little. He pinched the corners of the Eye of Animus together a bit, and felt the tendrils of gold begin to retract from his hand. When the gold stopped moving, Wes put the Eye in his jacket pocket and sighed.
" It's no use," he said softly, almost in a whisper. " We can't get Fred out. We can't save her."
" And why not?" Angel asked, anger—and a little fear, Wes noticed—rising in his voice. " Why can't we get Fred out of there?"
Wes looked up to meet the eyes of his friends. " The Kei-An Lock is connected to the brains of both Illyria and Fred," he said. " When Fred returned, she was in pain because the Lock was connected to her and was moving or straining. I imagine that it doesn't cause Illyria much pain at all, powerful as she is."
Angel's eyes narrowed. " Still hasn't answered my question, Wesley. Why can't we get Fred out?"
" Because," Wes whispered. " Because if Fred is in so much pain when the Lock is manipulated a little, completely unlocking it will kill her."
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In the training room, Illyria suddenly paused midway through a punch. She stood back, and the demon technician that had been acting as her punching bag breathed a sigh of relief that Illyria barely heard. She placed one hand to her head, her fingers moving over her temple, and then Illyria felt the Kei-An Lock click in her mind. She jerked a little with the pain that came, but it was harmless to her. Inside of her, Illyria felt Fred scream out in agony.
The Lock wasn't open, but someone had maneuvered it. Someone had just tried to open the Kei-An Box.
Wesley.
Illyria felt mad rage boiling inside of her, and she curled her hands into fists.
Enough is enough, Wesley, she thought, turning without a word and stalking from the training room. I will finish this now, and you will not stop me.
As she walked, Illyria began forming a plan.
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Things could have been different.
Wes sat in Fred's room, on her bed, propped up against the backboard. His legs were stretched out, ankles crossed, and his hands were folded in his lap, giving the visage of relaxation to anyone who might have been looking on.
Eyes closed in the dusty light, Wes was remembering.
Fred dying in his arms in this very bed.
Her small body, shaking, pressed against him, her skin like ice, frightened, withering away before his very eyes.
Wesley didn't cry as the disturbing images floated by in his mind; he had no tears left. There was nothing left.
Things could have been different.
Her soft, shaking whisper: " Please, Wesley, why can't I stay?"
Oh, god, she died too soon, Wes thought. Too soon. Why couldn't she stay? Why couldn't we have just taken off and spent time together, found an apartment together, lived together? I waited so long and watched her love others. I almost never tried to take what wasn't mine; I let Gunn have her, and I let Knox fall for her. I was so close to rescuing her, but I can't, because it will kill her. I waited, and I was cheated of her.
In his mind Wesley could see what could have been, a scene of he and Fred snuggling together on a couch, watching a movie, a normal couple living together in an apartment all their own, happy. Soul mates.
Things could have been different.
Wesley anticipated Illyria this time, and he opened his eyes to see her standing beside the bed, watching him intently. He sighed.
" What is it that you want, Illyria?" he said softly, not moving.
Her eyes were inquisitive, and reminded Wes of a bird. " You are sitting in her room, Wesley. Fred is dead."
Wes' eyes narrowed slightly. " Yes, Illyria, she is dead; perhaps you have not yet discovered that humans miss things when they are torn from them. I miss her."
Illyria looked away from him, around the room. " She was nothing, just a few molecules that came together to form a human like any other," she said. " I do not understand why a mass of atoms causes you such pain, when they are just like any other, and when there are identical atoms that make up water, or trees, or this building."
Wesley stood up, watching her. " Fred was special," he said. " I never taught you of human emotions, Illyria. You will never understand them."
Illyria was examining her hand, curling the fingers in, watching the tendons flex as she drummed in the air. " Interesting," she said. " Fred's power…it runs in my veins now. It lends me a strange, bastard strength, considering it comes from the weakest of souls, from a human."
Wes inhaled silently. " Fred is one of the strongest people I have ever known," he replied. " Her power must be great."
Illyria looked past her hand to him. " If that is the case, Wesley, then you obviously know nothing of strength."
Wesley sighed. " Obviously."
" And if you know nothing of strength," Illyria continued, " then you will definitely not be anticipating this."
Before Wesley could even comprehend, Illyria had moved to him. For one shocking millisecond they were face to face, and Wes could see the murderous look in her eyes, and then her fist to his jaw snapped Wesley's head back, blurring the overhead light and setting it spinning in his eyes. Wes hardly felt his body crumple to the floor as he watched the dizzying lights spin and spin, until they faded into nothing and he was left alone in the dark.
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Fred finally felt the waves of pain stop washing over her, and she was able to open her eyes.
" I've been knocked unconscious twice, today," she groaned softly to herself. " Not a good day, I think."
It was then when Fred noticed that someone was standing over her body.
With her throat tightening, Fred slowly rolled over onto her back to see a sword of blue flames resting at her throat. Fred's eyes traveled slowly up the blade, and she saw Illyria's eyes, vicious.
With a sick, cruel smile, Illyria leaned closer to Fred, her eyes blazing with the thrill of the hunt. Fred pressed her back into the floor, trying to get away, and through the surge of panic Fred heard Illyria whisper something to her that was barely understandable:
" Run."