Orpheus

author: Elizabeth5
pairing: W/F, with some C/D, C/A, and other tidbit pairings from the Buffyverse
summary: After Wesley's death, he learns that there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby.
category: romance, angst, action/adventure
rating: PG
author's note: There's no denying that Joss Whedon is a genius, but I need a little more closure. So here it is.
Disclaimer: none of this is mine. Sadly.

chapter three: Familiar Faces

Despite his best efforts, Wesley's reservations were beginning to slip away, and the pure, naked hope in his eyes was almost too much to bear. "Not gone?" he repeated. "Fred isn't gone? Only lost?"

"Only lost," Doyle confirmed.

Wesley shook his head, rubbing at his face. "But...how? They told me that Illyria's possession of her body had burned up her soul. I looked for her...I tried everything...but she was gone. Gone."

Doyle shrugged at this. "Well, Wolfram and Hart may have been good at lies and deceit, but they were never much for translating. Their interpretations of the text have always been too limited. It's an imagination thing. Anyway, the prophecies about Illyria's return to earth stated that the soul of the shell would be lost. They took that to mean destroyed. But here in the afterlife, we have a bit of a different perspective.

"The lost souls refer to those who haven't quite made it to Heaven and haven't quite made it to Hell. It would be an injustice to place them in either place, and so they're stuck in the middle. It's not paradise, but it's not fire and brimstone, either. It's just sort of...there."

Wesley's gaze was eager. "And Fred is in this place?"

Doyle nodded. "Fred's soul would have easily been sent to Heaven on her own merits. She was a good kid, that one. Sorry I never got to meet her. But because of the nature of Illyria's possession, Fred's soul was forced from the body and beyond the planes of Heaven or Hell. Now she's just stuck on the outskirts."

"But you said I could save her," Wesley reminded him, "that I could bring her back."

"And you can." Doyle confirmed.

Wesley looked as though he wanted to speak further, but suddenly his body was shuddering, and he buried his face with his hands. "I'm sorry," he managed finally. "I had given up all hope, and now..."

Tentatively, Cordelia stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. Instantly, Wesley pulled away from her, his eyes burning with intensity. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was doing what was best for you," Cordelia insisted quietly.

"Best for me?" Wesley echoed, and laughed bitterly. "To live without her? To consign her to nothingness for an eternity? How could you have ever thought that was best?"

"Because!" Cordy snapped. "Because Doyle here hasn't given you the whole story." She glared at him accusingly, then turned her gaze back to Wesley. "Finding Fred isn't going to be some skip through the park. The Guardians of that place are pretty darn possessive, and they won't let her go without a fight. There will be tests– physical, mental, emotional. And here's the real kicker: if you don't pass, your soul will be destroyed. Lost to any of us, forever."

Wesley was silent at this, and Cordelia's face softened. "Wes, please. You have to believe me. When I found out there was still a chance to save her, I researched every book the library has ever had on the subject. I love Fred, too. But the risks are just too high. This isn't temporal death we're talking about– it's eternal. If you fail, every part of you will be gone."

Wesley was quiet still, staring down at his feet. And then he met her gaze, his blue eyes blazing determinedly. "So be it." he said, then started toward the door. "I believe we have some research to do..."

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The hands were swarming in on top of her, and Fred felt their cold, clammy touch draining the last of the warmth from her body. And then suddenly, abruptly, they were gone. Fred looked up in wonder to see a thick-set, muscular man standing over her. She squinted at him, taking a moment to remember why she recognized that face.

"Lindsay?"

"Glad you remember," he said in that uniquely husky voice. He reached down and helped her to her feet. "Now, what is a dame like you doing in a place like this?"

Fred took a moment to regain her balance, then shrugged. "I'm...um, not really sure, to tell you the truth. One minute I was dying and the next I was driving down this road. At first it was all trees and birds, and then it got darker and darker...and I never thought I'd say it, but I sure am glad to see you."

He laughed at this. "Um...thanks. I think."

Trying not to think too much about the absurdity of the situation, Fred glanced around. "So where are we? Why are we here? And who were those creepy zombie people?"

Lindsay shrugged. "No idea, not really sure, and...well, creepy zombie people."

"Oh."

There was a scurrying noise somewhere down the street, and Lindsay tensed, taking Fred by the arm. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat about this, but we should really get going. The creepy zombie people don't take long to regroup."

He led her over to his vehicle, parked and still running. His was a truck rather than a station wagon, and Fred frowned at the sign attached on the back. "Cops suck?" she read aloud.

"I was in a mood." Lindsay explained with a shrug. He helped her into the truck then glanced around uneasily before climbing in the driver's side.

In a matter of moments, they had reached a run-down old building whose windows and doors were heavily blocked. Lindsay pulled into what looked like a make-shift garage. After climbing out of the car, he pulled down a heavy metal covering and took the next several moments locking, chaining, and bolting down the door.

Fred watched him uncertainly. "Why do I get the feeling that you're not being over-paranoid?"

"First rule to learn," Lindsay explained, "people steal whatever they can get their hands on around here. Including the shirt off your back."

She nodded in understanding, noticing for the first time that Lindsay's shirt was a size or two too small for him. "And the second rule?"

"The light is our savior," Lindsay said. "These people have gone for so long without it that they can't bear to be around it. And that's why we'll be safe in here."

He pushed open the door into an adjoining room, where an old headlight was hanging from the ceiling, emitting meager but warm yellow light. Fred wanted to rush toward it, but pride kept her from doing so. Lindsay was, after all, her old enemy, and even though he had helped her, she couldn't afford to show him any weakness...

A sudden thought struck her, and Fred turned, frowning at him. "I don't remember you dying." she said.

Lindsay smiled somewhat bitterly. "It was after you'd already gone and Queen Smurf had taken your place. I helped out your little team, but I guess Angel decided he couldn't really trust me, after all." To demonstate his point, he pulled open his shirt, revealing two bullet wounds.

Fred's eyes widened with surprise. "Angel killed you?"

Lindsay hesitated, but only for a moment. "Yeah." he said. "Angel killed me."

There was a moment of silence as Fred pondered this. She knew that Angel must have had a good reason, but still... She shook her head. "So if my friends were responsible for your death, then why did you save me from those zombie people?"

He met her gaze evenly. "Because I have an inkling that if you had still been around, you would have been the one person to object to Angel killing me off. Not because you particularly liked me, but because...you have a heart."

She smiled at this, taken aback but flattered. But sensing that Lindsay would be embarrassed by continuing this discussion, she glanced around the room. "This is quite a place you have. Don't suppose you have any food?"

"Sorry."

Fred rubbed at her stomach, surprised at how much it ached. "I didn't think it was possible to be hungry after you died."

Lindsay laughed. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you never stop being hungry in this place. Part of the punishment, I guess."

She frowned. "Is this...is this Hell?"

"I don't know," Lindsay returned, shrugging. "Maybe. But I doubt it. Feels more like middle ground, but I could be wrong. I haven't had too much time to figure it out."

Fred began to nod at this, and then realized that something in his words didn't quite add up. "But if you died after me...how is it that you're here before me? And how did you get this whole place set up so quickly?"

Lindsay grinned at her. "They told me you were smart. I was waiting for you to figure it out." He cleared his throat, leaning up against the wall. "The way I figure it, the Powers that Be had a hard time with you. 'Cuz you were worthy to go to Heaven, but Illyria's return made that impossible. So you had to come here." He shrugged. "Me? I've never really been quite good or quite evil, so this was the only logical place for me to end up. So I got here quicker. And as for how I set this place up so quickly, well...that's easy. An old friend already had everything ready for me."

Fred followed his gaze to the doorway behind her. Standing there was a tall woman, slender and beautiful, an old memory. Only this time around, Fred didn't have to pause at all before recognition came.

Lilah.