She lies on the floor, dizzy and disoriented from the sudden drain of energy. Wesley calls her name.

"Illyria?"

She weakly attempts to raise her head but she cannot. Illyria has never been this weak and helpless, and therefore she puts up a front immediately. Keep them away. Make sure they do not realize the extent of her loss.

"Touch me and die, vermin."

"Not a very dramatic difference, really," quips the white-haired one.

"Everything is different," murmurs Wesley.

Thankfully, the voices start to fade as the vermin depart. Now there is silence and she can cogitate upon her present dilemma.

What is she to do? It has been hard enough to live in this world before, but now she has nothing to fall back on. Now she is just a human shell, no different from the others that walk the world, except for blue hair and a god's ego, according to Spike. They have the chance to take complete advantage of her, rip out everything they want before disposing of her carcass. She cannot protect herself.

She is weak.

It is an overwhelming and upsetting idea, and coupled with the loss of her powers, Illyria succumbs to her physical woes and commits the weakest act of all: she passes out.

Illyria awakens with a start. The training room is still deserted and the lights have been dimmed for her comfort, Wesley probably looking out for her creature comforts. She detests when he does this; she does not require accommodations for comfort. Too much comfort breeds weakness.

Her body is stiff from lying on cold floor for hours and her legs protest as she attempts to stand. But she ignores her joints and starts to exit the room, her mind already thinking of her next moves. Where should she go? She does not want to stay here; they know too much. She needs to find a place where they have not heard of her loss and dwell there pitifully in the shadows, fearing for her life. Or maybe she should go back to the Deeper Well and ask Drogyn to take her back. Her resurrection has been horrible and she would rather wait for a more opportune time.

"Miss me?"

Illyria whirls around, her blue hair streaming from her scalp. No one is there.

"Identify yourself."

A cloud coalesces in a corner and a woman walks out. She is blonde, wearing a restricting red dress and a pleasant smile that chills Illyria. She remembers all the faces she has ever seen, but this one is not among them.

"You don't remember me? Glory?"

She remembers Glorificus. Glorificus had been the one to ultimately betray her. She had led the peoples in rebellion and they had banished her to the Deeper Well.

"You do not look the same."

"Neither do you, babe. Blue so does not suit you. No hard feelings?"

"In our times, betrayal was a neutral word. Why do you ask me this?"

"Because betrayal is way more serious these days, and I thought you might have gotten with the times, being that you're in a human body now."

"It is not by choice. Why are you in human form?" asks Illyria, almost icily. She may choose to forgo revenge, but she will never forget the betrayal.

"Gets a response from the males on this world," Glorificus twirls and her dress flares out, "You get the need to persuade."

"No, I do not. I did not persuade. I conquered."

"We're both gods, we just have different views on things. That's why one of us had to go."

"Correct," says Illyria stiffly.

Glorificus paces around Illyria. "Power costs. You know that. We've both paid for our power, you in your shell, me in this ghostly existence. I've been watching you, I know what happened." She pokes her arm through the wall. "I tried to get more power and I got, well not killed, but banished from this plane. So here we are, ancient powers without powers."

Illyria listens silently, arms crossed over her chest, attempting to figure out what Glorificus wants. Glorificus' powers lay in her sweet words, and the conquered had listened to her speeches of a new reign, of equality and glory for all. Of course, it had been false, but her words had served their purpose. She leans in close to Illyria.

"We can make a deal and both return in full strength, but you'd have to trust me."

"But you are untrustworthy," points out Illyria. Glorificus had been her second in command, placating the people with her words, but it had not been enough for her.

"And so are you. You tried to throw me into the Deeper Well before I got you. But we could work together again. We had a great empire. After I got rid of you, I realized that I couldn't hold it together by myself. Together, we can rule the world, you with your wars and me with my words." Glorificus is exuberantly preaching to the ceiling now, gesturing wildly and erratically. But she has Illyria's interest.

"Continue."

"I have no body, you have no powers. You let me into your body and use my powers. We can be a great entity together, no more betrayal. We might have to be together at all hours, but it's the price we'd have to pay."

Illyria is silent, mentally considering the catch in this agreement. Glorificus obviously mistakes her silence for disagreement.

"They've betrayed us both. Throw out that crap about not caring. You do care, and we can punish them. Join me."

"I find this acceptable," says Illyria, having thoroughly considered the proposition and finding it sound.

Glorificus grins broadly and jumps up and down, clapping her hands. Illyria finds this display of emotion distasteful.

"Oh my god, that's so great! Ok, we just need one more thing, a human sacrifice. Your nearest and dearest, if you actually have someone like that.

Illyria nods. "I have someone in mind."

Glory does not question who. "Great. Let's get them."

"Now?" asks Illyria. "Should we not confer upon our plans? Wait until the opportune moment?"

"Nah," drawls Glorificus. "One of your major problems is that you always dawdled around and thought about stuff. You have to act!" She throws her arms up to accentuate her point. "Let's do it now!"

"You mean I consider my actions rather than impulsively acting?"

"Whatever. Let's go."

"Someone may see you."

"Only you can see me. It's sort of like going crazy," giggles Glorificus. "My specialty." Gone are the persuasive words and tone. Now that she has persuaded Illyria, she is much more carefree and cheerful. It is rather annoying. But Illyria does not protest. There is really nothing to consider. They will go get the blood for the ritual and join, then they will take over the world again. It is very simple.

They walk down the corridors in silence. Glorificus' happy speeches irritate her and she orders her to be silent, leaving Illyria to think about their victim. Not only the day before had he tried and succeeded in betraying her. It is time to return the favor.

She can tell Wesley is startled to see her.

"Illyria," he says. "I didn't think you'd be around this soon."

"Because you thought I would crawl away into the dirt and hide from my pitiful existence? I am no weakling," she spits at him.

"Why are you here?"

"I require an explanation. Why did you not kill me? It would have been to your advantage." Illyria tilts her head curiously and eyes him.

"It would not have been to my advantage."

"No doubt to gloat over my loss," she continues, walking around his desk while staring him down.

"There was no point in killing you."

Illyria whirls around. "I have no worth left. I have no powers. What reasons are there to keep me alive?"

"Maybe I see other worth in you. It shouldn't all be about power. I saw other things, your inner strength, your ability to lead, your knowledge. You can still do important things." His voice is alive, strong and passionate and Illyria knows he is telling the truth, realizes that he thinks she is still strong. A pleasant feeling rises in her gut.

He turns around and looks away. "I see potential..."

Illyria hesitates to take this opportunity. "Go," shrieks Glorificus, standing next to her. "He's not looking, this is the perfect time." Glorificus' shrill cries grate on her nerves and she acts, compelled to obey, unable to think. She grabs his neck and in one swift move severs the spinal column. Wesley slumps forward, the word 'potential' suddenly muted as his lips cease to speak.

Stunned, Illyria moves back from the body. She did not want to kill him, but she has blindly followed Glorificus' words. As she numbly cuts his arm and wets her fingers, she realizes that Glorificus has caused her to err. Mechanically, she follows Glorificus' instructions and smears the blood over her face, and lowers her mouth to his arm to drink. Glorificus had urged her to act quickly without sufficient thought, and it had been incorrect. She has just killed the man who saw value in her, worth where she had only seen weakness. He had saved her, and she has punished him. She has betrayed him.

Betrayal is no longer a neutral word. When they're at the top of the world, she will punish Glorificus for what she has impulsively forced her to do. She spasms in pain as Glorificus is sucked into her body along with the blood pouring down her throat. Her lips twist into a weird smile. She is already deciding on a method.

She stands straight and stretches, feeling new power course through her veins, hearing Glorificus' chattering in her head. She is whole again. She has paid a high price for her revival and Glorificus will pay. Just as she betrayed Wesley, she will betray Glorificus. Now she just waits for the right time.

Written for the Illyria Ficathon

For: alistra

Requirements: Two powerful rivals meet again. Glory offering to return Illyria's powers, but at what price?
Restrictions: Must have past rivalry mentioned, need not to exceed to present. Slash encouraged