Chapter 5

Twenty minutes later a recovered Kay took Thu home, dropping off Spike and Paloma in the motel's parking lot. Michael Wight met them at the office door.

"Illyria passed out again twice after you left. The second time we made her lie down so she wouldn't fall and hit her head. We didn't see any sign of Miss Burkle; the fainting came and went so fast. Now that you're back, I'd like to try to look for her."

The Old One lay half sitting up, propped with pillows. Dilip's single-size bed was undoubtedly a far cry from her former thrones, and she looked vastly ill at ease. Michael drew up a chair next to her.

"This won't involve any magic; just some simple extrasensory perception - well, extra for most of us, anyway. All you'll need to do is sit quietly." Michael's owlish face looked her honestly in the eye. "I have no idea what I'll find or what will happen. I can't guarantee anything, except that if we kill you, it won't be on purpose."

Illyria's eyes widened incredulously. Her mouth opened as if to speak - Little man, kill me and you HAVE no purpose - then snapped shut. Michael turned to Spike. "You said that no one's attempted to contact Fred before?"

"Not unless Pryce tried and didn't tell us. I didn't think she still existed 'til I smelled her scent yesterday. Thought her soul had been destroyed - that there wasn't anything left of her."

Dilip spoke up sharply. "Souls can't be destroyed. Who told you that?"

"Well...Wolfram & Hart. Their chief surgeon. He said her soul had been consumed."

The Indian raised his eyebrows. "And you believed him?"

Spike suddenly felt incredibly, horribly foolish. Why had they simply taken the bastard's word? They'd been so helpless against Fred's death, and the brutality of it; had just swallowed the bitter pill and tried to move on. Christ on a crutch, all this time...

"Find her," he pleaded, and his voice was raspy with emotion. "If I knew she was in a better place - Heaven, or whatever you want to call it - I'd be okay with it. But if she's somewhere else...someplace bad..."

The room fell quiet and still. The yellow glow from the bedside lamp suddenly seemed frail against the blackness of the universe, and the unknown horrors it might contain. The five looked at one another, and finally Wight broke the silence.

"Well, let's get started." he placed his hand on Illyria's wrist, and closed his eyes.

For Michael, the ocean was always a good place to start. He imagined himself cruising birdlike just above its surface, small caplets of seafoam rushing past, the horizon stretching out in all directions. It was night on this ocean, and the stars were out. He held the object in his hand in front of him, and felt a gentle magnetic pull. He floated, and let the pull tow him.

The soft murmur of the seacaps became silent, then water and stars alike disappeared. He was moving now through inky blackness. The pull weakened, then ceased.

"She's here."

He was somewhat surprised at not being able to hear his own voice, but he continued to speak anyway.

"Everything's dark; she's in here somewhere..." He began to sweep his arms through the darkness, fishing about as though trying to locate an eel in a barrel of murky water.

Suddenly he felt her. She careened into him and through him, and he tasted the nauseating wash of her terror. He reached out into her wake, but his hands closed on empty air.

Someone's here. Fred jolted into alertness and was seized by a mixture of joy and panic.

Don'tleavedon'tleaveohpleasegoddon'tleave she screamed soundlessly, and began to race wildly in every direction, in an agony of fear that whoever it was would be gone and maybe not even know she was there and never come back and I want to go home I wanttogohomeIwanttogohome

Dilip, Spike, and Paloma stood transfixed by the scene at the bed. Illyria's eyes were open, but her breath had become shallow and she lay perfectly still. Michael's eyes moved rapidly back and forth behind his closed lids, and his free hand began to make little grabbing motions. His face tightened into an expression of frustration.

Then his lips started to form words.

"...other way. It's her. She can't find the way out."

"You can see her?" Spike gasped, moving to stand at the vacant side of the bed. Michael appeared not to hear him.

"I can't catch her, she's moving too fast, too much. Tell her to stop moving so much."

His voice had begun to take on a tone of alarm.

"Tell her to stop moving!"

Frightened, Spike leaned over Illyria and gripped her shoulders. "Fred!" he bellowed into her face. "BE STILL!"

"FRED!"

A deep, familiar voice burst into her mind. A voice she trusted. SPIKE. SOUND. She froze, a rabbit trapped in the headlights, and heard sounds again.

"BE STILL!"

She obeyed instinctively.

And in the seconds after she became still, Michael-In-The-Void found her, locked his arms around her, and flew backwards.

"HAH!" Simultaneously, the woman on the bed in the Happy Trails apartment gasped and the man opened his eyes.