Author's Notes: First of all, thank you for all the reviews! I'm thrilled that you're interested in this story!

Secondly, the next few chapters were originally one long one, until I decided that the flow worked better with them separated. (Plus, more cliffhangers!) Hopefully I was right about that one! An added bonus is that the next two are practically written already, and so updates should be eminent.

And lastly, there are quotes taken directly from episodes of the show, indicated by italics. I don't always state directly who said them, but I'm assuming that we're all Angel fans to some degree and so won't be completely confused by them.

Chapter 3: The Second Battle

Maybe it's not so much magical as chemical when two people are attracted. Maybe it's that the DNA knows what it needs, and when it finds it nothing can get in its way.

It just takes it.

--Fred, "Couplet"

When Illyria burst upon the house of Vail, Adele was singing over the body of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. It was an old song, a Valkyrie song, one that had been sung millions of times in millions of years. It was strong, and sweet, and sad-- to some.

It was the song to lift the soul.

And Illyria had heard it many times. She knew what it was, and just as surely she knew that this time the song would not be completed. She would end it... now.

"Touch him and die, Valkyrie."

--------------------

The song stopped. "Illyria," Adele acknowledged heavily, turning. She'd expected this confrontation with the tired air of one who has seen too much and so knows disaster is inevitable.

"Do not presume to speak my name!" the demon goddess snarled in a shout, more on instinct than anything else. This Valkyrie must know her place... and her place might well be on the floor with the headless body of Vail. Wesley's killers deserved no less, and she would soon decide if his blood stained the hands of this one as well. She knew what a Valkyrie was. Death-choosers, thieves of life and victory in battle.

But restorers of life as well.

And so she could not attack, not yet, not with her fists. She would make do with words—for now.

"I know your kind well. You appeared beautiful, but you were carrion-eaters," she spit out contemptuously, vitriol dripping from her words. "You flew over the battlefield to pick at the dead like the vultures you were."

"We never killed," Adele replied, seemingly not affected by the insult—though she found being referred to in the past tense vaguely unsettling. Clearly, millions of years asleep in the Deeper Well had done precious little in improving Illyria's social skills. Turning her head down towards Wesley, she continued, almost gently. "And so if you wish to cast blame for this death, you'll not find it here."

She may as well not have spoken at all. Illyria's head lifted sharply in a provoked surge of rage. "But you CHOSE him!" she accused, her voice thundering.

"Yes." The Valkyrie was calm, infuriating the former monarch further. How dare she admit such a crime as if it were nothing! Did she not know the name of Illyria, and what she could do to her in punishment!? This death-chooser did not even acknowledge her anger by raising her voice herself. She knew that Illyria had no power to bring back life—a god of war and death, she never had—and she was gloating, rubbing it in her face, deliberately rousing her ire. She would pay dearly for that... after she had done what Illyria wanted.

"Then you will restore him," she commanded, voice deep and flat and cold. There was death in that voice, icy threat in her eyes

"I can't. My decision has been made."

Illyria's eyes flew open wide, any thought of restraint lost. Wesley was what she wanted, and this single, pathetic death-maiden stood between them like a wall, like a fortress. She knew what she'd done with those things in her day. She'd destroyed them. Completely.

"Reverse your decision. We killed your kind easily for such refusals."

It wasn't true—entirely-- but the Valkyrie made no argument. Argument with Illyria was pointless, and very dangerous, though an attack was probably inevitable no matter the case. She wasn't afraid; that was a sensation she had not experienced for longer than she could remember. Being the last of her kind had never given her a sense of desperation. She lived and fulfilled her purpose, but should she die she would go to Valhalla, reunited with her sisters at last. It gave her an air of weary boldness, knowing that neither life nor death held any terror for her.

Not that she had any intentions to invite the latter.

"You could kill me, yes," she agreed evenly. "But I warn you that it would bring you nothing. There isn't a witch or conjurer or spell in this world that can bring Wesley back to you. My choice of death can't be reversed—not even by myself—while the reason for my decision still exits. It's a law as old as the Valkyries themselves."

Illyria let the truth of the words glance off her, as the weapons of her enemies had glanced off her armor in battle. She cared nothing for these excuses. "I'll do it myself, then," she challenged. "I'll rip time apart if I have to, and cut off your decision before the foul words can leave your mouth."

Adele recognized that for what it was—an idle threat. Illyria was only posturing, unwilling to show any weakness. Of course she had already tried to turn back the clock to supercede Wesley's death— she'd tried it from the very moment she realized her powers had been restored. She'd failed. Again and again. She didn't know why yet, but Adele did, and she struggled with the idea of telling her. Even had she succeeded in moving time backward, however, it would have done no good. So long as Fred was gone the choice of Wesley's death must remain as well, and Fred's demise was one thing that Illyria could not undo through time. It was impossible, for she would destroy herself in the process.

It was dangerous business, stating these facts openly to Illyria herself, and so Adele chose not to complicate matters further. "You can no longer alter time," she stated simply.

Illyria's reaction was immediate and fierce. Once again the Valkyrie dared too much, insulting and taunting her with reminders of her lost powers. In the old days Illyria had killed for less insolence than this, and her hands twitched into fists.

You'll have to learn to change. You must not kill.

Wesley had said that. The memory bolted into her mind before she could stop it. It was not so strange, really, that his words came to her now. But he had killed. He had killed Knox, whom he said murdered Winifred. He stabbed Charles. He'd tried to kill she herself when she came. Because of them, Fred had died.

Does that make it just?

No, it wasn't just.

Killing Vail had been just, necessary. Illyria felt no remorse for that, nor for the thousands of enemy demons who now lay tangled and dead in the dark rain-drowned alley. But this Valkyrie.... she could not decide if she was more guilty for what had befallen Wesley, or not guilty at all. Either way she forced herself to damper her boiling emotions. She could not harm this one, for there was awful truth in her words. She was her only hope of bringing Wesley back from death. And Illyria would make her do it. In this she would not fail.

"You must see very little," she scoffed. "I did so tonight, and I'll do it again."

"You did." Adele paused, looking at Illyria, trying to read her. What she had to say would not be taken easily. "But you don't know why. Why you regained your powers in the fight but now..." She trailed off at the demoness' freezing glare. The truth must be told, but Adele was not looking forward to fending off Illyria's reaction. "It was the strength of your feelings that drew them to you, and allowed you to expel them quickly enough to keep from self-destructing. It was emotion which empowered you—making you as strong as you have ever been. Perhaps even stronger. But there's more. Your powers were sent to a far-off pocket universe when Wesley drew them from you with the generator. Someone had to retrieve them, and send them towards you—measured, so that you drew only what you would use at once and would not self-destruct. And that someone... was I myself."

"Impossible," Illyria spat immediately, but she was stunned and shaken-- which made her look like she'd been hit hard in the chest. She looked away, collecting herself, then shot her gaze back. "Why?"

It was a heavy question. Why would she aid an Old One, whose kind had murdered her sisters, and whose return she had so struggled to stop? Despite the fact that she'd fought on the side of good this once, her place in the world was still uncertain at best. "It was the only way the war could be won. Without you all would have been lost, and you could not have prevailed without your former strength."

Adele knew that something was wrong as soon as she'd said the words. Illyria was taking this far too calmly, though she was beginning to tremble, her fists clenching and flexing. Perhaps she'd decided that the truth of her lost abilities was absolute, and useless to fight against. She rather doubted it.

Loathing seethed through Illyria's bared teeth as she replied some long moments later. "I owe you nothing," she finally said, imperious.

"That's true. My part in your re-empowerment was very small. But… it was a necessary part… and also temporary."

"And so I cannot regain them again without you."

Adele let the question hang in the air, but knew she had to answer. "Yes."

That's when the fire flew into Illyria's eyes, and the Valkyrie knew she was probably going to die.