Open Your Eyes: Wanting

Wesley moved through the silent woods expertly, knowing them by memory now. The only sounds that could be distantly heard, if one strained their ear, were the flapping of wings from the birds that flew over him.

Having retrieved to the secluded woods had been a choice that he had not expected himself to make. Originally, after leaving L.A., he had wanted to go back to England, perhaps help Giles out in organizing the new council. But then the reality of it all had sunk in; he had never been a good watcher to begin with. Dealing with teenage girls and their moody behavior had never been his strong point. Although he was now a skilled fighter and possessed the amazing ability of researching the hell out of anything or anyone – his calling did not lie within the council.

His fate was somewhere; he just had to find it. For now he was content in the woods. His cabin was large and far too spacious for one person, but it allowed him the freedom he needed to get back in touch with himself. Three years had passed by already and he felt like a new person. No longer tormented by the terrible loses of his past, he only wished to focus on the future and finally finding his true calling on this earth.

Cordelia, Spike, Angel...all of them, they had been chosen to be champions, fight the good fight, but he did not see himself in the same manner. Sure, he had fought with them, walked away with a few war wounds of his own and yet, in the end, he was not a hero.

Sighing he sat down on the porch of the cabin and looked out into the impressive scenery before him. The only thing that still worried him was Illyria. According to Spike and Angel she had dropped of the face of the universe. Sometimes he wondered whether she even knew he was alive, did his death grief her so much that she had walked away from it all?

Speculations, that's all he had to go on. A small part of him often missed her. It hadn't been her fault, he had concluded once the pain of Fred's death had finally settled. Illyria had not chosen Fred, Knox had. She had only invaded the host that had been presented to her.

Of course, in the beginning he had hated her, for parading around in Fred's body, using her image to torture him. But now he felt pity for her. So naïve and unsure of the world around her, she had been and in an odd way, he had loved that part of her. Being able to teach her about every small curiosity, in a way, had been an unintentional therapy for him. His duty as her "guide" having been the only thing that had kept him sane through out those last months before the apocalypse.

One Week Later

Illyria sat on the bed of her small motel room, after making numerous phone calls she had finally tracked down Wesley. It hadn't been easy, but that had been one thing that Angel and Spike had hammered into her brain – Patience. By contacting all the near by antique book dealers she had been able to obtain information from them about a certain secluded, British collector that would buy from them on a regular basis.

Wesley had always been so fond of books, Illyria recalled, she could still recite every single word of the Shakespeare he had forced her to read. He had tried to teach her about love through his works, but in the end it had all been hopeless. What he had been trying to teach her through the writing of dead poets was already within her, slowing growing with each day by his side.

Now that she was human and could finally comprehend and feel human emotions on every level the words, often, found their way into her thoughts. Certain lines suddenly made sense to her...the mere thought of Romeo and Juliet causing her to cry herself to sleep.

Standing up and grabbing her light jacket, she could feel her stomach grumbling. It was almost noon and she still hadn't eaten any breakfast. First she would go to the near by dinner and then she would be on her way to Wesley. Three years she had waited patiently for the moment of the reunion and in a few hours it would finally come.

A soft knock on his door brought Wesley out of the light slumber he had been under. Getting up from the couch he smoothed his dark hair as he made his way to the door. Most probably it was someone from UPS or some kind of delivery service, who else could it be?

Opening the door he found himself absolutely floored when he saw who was standing on the other side.

"Illyria?" he asked with uncertainty. Her eyes were still so amazingly blue, but everything else about her was so different. Her form was still Fred's but barely resembled the state it had been in when Fred had possessed it. She was smaller now, but at the same time more sensual around the hips and bosom, her body clearly a finely tuned fighting machine, but far more feminine then Fred could have ever been.

Looking deep into his eyes Illyria allowed herself to smile and took a step forward. Immediately Wesley recoiled into the house. He still couldn't decide whether he was glad to see her or disappointed.

"Why are you here?" he asked sharply.

Illyria was not surprise by his reaction, but at the same time it caused her great pain to see his discontent for her. In her most private of thoughts she had wished for him to greet her with arms wide open, allowing her to finally love him, accepting her as his lover....

"The last thing I wish to do is make you uncomfortable, I just wanted to see you and have you see me" she told him honestly, the concept of lying or covering up her true purpose never having occurred to her.

'Painfully honest Illyria' Wesley thought to himself as he came to stand in front of her. Extending his hand toward her face he now caressed the soft skin. She was no longer cold to the touch as before, instead she was warm and soft.

Leaning into his touch she couldn't help but close her eyes as his hand traveled down her neck and all the way to her hand.

"My God, you're human!" he exclaimed in a shocked whisper. Wesley could feel a storm of mixed feelings forming within him. In a way it was as if Fred had been returned to him, once more her body was mortal – breathing and living. But it was no longer his lost love; instead it was an entirely new person...a different version of Fred, the same body but a different soul.

Illyria brought their joint hands up to her chest so that he could feel her heart beating...just for him.

"But how?" he asked out loud.

"Spike sent me..." she began to explain but was cut off by Wesley's own rambling.

"Of course, Spike. He had won his soul from that African demon, but it had been at a great cause."

Looking away from his eyes, she did not want him to realize the great trouble she had gone through to become human, the power she had walked away from for him. If there had been one thing she had learned in her three years of being human, it was humility. Sometimes, she had concluded, that there were certain things that should remain unsaid...only necessary truths.

TBC