Note: I wanted to get the story moving along, so another chapter post. There's a little gore in this (wounds and such from the battle). Just so you know reading it.

Chapter Two – I'll Rest When I'm Dead

Faith's heart almost pounded out of her chest as she approached the hotel. Traveling for most of the day through airports had made her cranky and stiff. But action was the least thought in her mind. She had made it around the police barriers easily. Since it was almost midnight, the carnage before her glowed in the moonlight.

No way the authorities would be able to sweep this one under the carpet. Destruction and bodies went on for blocks. Which meant the vision she had would have already happened. She hoped that it hadn't. But in her heart, she somehow just knew.

Stepping into the familiar courtyard, Faith's senses told her that no one lurked in front of her. Her way was clear. But inside, who knew.

The door hung off its hinges at an odd angle, like someone had ripped it off to get inside. But inside the huge lobby, it was very dark. Groping for a light switch, Faith's hand finally touched it and flicked them all on. Light illuminated the once dark interior. Everything seemed intact. Sheets covered the furniture. Dust covered every surface. No one had been here in some time.

Until she looked down, she thought the place had been abandoned. On the floor was a trail of blood. Now that stood out. She followed it, stopping at the round couch in the center of the room. The other side facing away from the door was covered in it. From there the blood hadn't traveled. Had someone died there?

Faith slowly stepped over to the office. The door was slightly ajar, so she tapped it open with her foot. Never can be too careful. Bloody bandages covered the floor. Someone had some serious battle wounds. Must have been Angel, she mused. But where was he?

The noise outside the office was so faint, any normal human would not have heard it. But something or someone was out there. Faith quietly strode to the open office door and peaked through. Standing in the middle of the lobby was someone in full leather and blue hair. And she looked a hell of a lot like that skinny beanpole Fred.

For some odd reason, Faith knew that this wasn't Fred. The icy blue eyes on this creature held an air of arrogance even Angel would have a hard time matching. The woman held a short, brown leather coat over her arm. Faith wondered why the so-not-Fred stood stock still in the middle of a deserted lobby. Probably wondered who had turned on the lights.

Even though she sensed danger coming from the blue-haired woman, Faith still needed to find Angel, and quickly. So she stepped out of the office in full view, with her hands up to show that she meant no harm.

The thing shifted her attention to Faith, turning her head to the side, like she was studying her.

"Hey, I'm lookin' for Angel." Really friendly like. "Have you seen him?"

She slowly approached the strange-looking blue creature. The thing really did look like Fred. Spooky.

"You are human." It spoke. Totally different voice from the Texan girl she had met a little over a year ago.

"Yeah. I'm a friend of Angel's. Did something happen here?"

The creature in front of her stared down at the jacket and looked as if she was on the verge of crying. "I do not know where the other half-breed is. My mission was not successful."

"I don't understand. I just need to know what happened."

Would the creature tell her the story? Each minute that passed almost put Faith over the edge.

"I could not save him. They did not leave the body." A tear escaped the creature.

Faith noticed the rents in the woman's leather, wounds on her neck and forehead standing out. She slowly sank down on the round couch, still clutching the jacket like a security blanket.

"You're hurt. I can see that. Maybe I can help?" Faith inched toward her, until those icy-blue eyes halted her progress.

"No one can help me now. My guide is gone. The battle is finished."

Faith was getting nowhere fast with this creature. What came barreling down the stairs next shocked her even more. Spike in all his glory, coat in tatters, but still flapping around him like a cloak.

"What happened?" he screamed.

The blue-haired thing clutched the jacket even tighter. He's dead, Faith kept telling herself over and over. Buffy had seen it happen. To save the world and close the Hellmouth in Sunnydale, Spike's sacrifice had lit up the sky that day.

"Spike?" was all that she could manage to get out.

"Faith, what are you doing here?"

But there he was, standing in front of her in the lobby of the Hyperion, blood dripping from his scalp.

"You're bleeding."

Spike wiped the blood away. His hair, instead of that platinum blonde he loved so much, was crusted with blood and other unidentified goo. "I'll live. Illyria, what happened? Gunn?"

"Is still alive, for now."

"Good. That's good," Spike said, swaying a little.

"Spike, I know I'm coming in the middle of this, but what the hell is going on?"

He swayed more and fell to one knee. "You wouldn't mind, luv, if I just took a breather right here. Can't see straight."

Faith ran into the office and grabbed as many clean bandages as she could find. Racing to him, she placed one on the back of his head, holding it firm and steady. Damn, I thought vampires didn't bleed this much.

"I have to get back upstairs," Spike whispered.

"Why?" Faith's hands shook. No one was giving her answers.

"Angel's up there. Needs something. I can't quite remember." Spike's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed in a heap. Faith mostly caught him before his head hit the hard floor.

"Could you help me out here? What did he call you?" Faith called to the blue-haired leather sitting on the couch.

"Illyria."

"Snap out of it. I need your help," Faith yelled as she lowered Spike the rest of the way to the floor. Illyria complied, still holding the jacket. "Put that down. I need you to hold this to help stop the bleeding."

As Illyria gently laid the jacket down, Faith noticed the dark stains on it. Bloodstains, she was sure. Did it belong to Gunn?

"Tell me where Angel is? Upstairs? Please."

"He is . . . on the second floor of this building, I think." Illyria looked confused.

"Take care of him. He's depending on you." Illyria looked at her like she didn't want anyone to depend on her.

Faith bounded up the stairs. Each door she came to, she peered inside. On the sixth one, she finally hit paydirt. She could see Angel lying on a bed, shirt off, covered in blood and demon guts from head to toe. And he shivered like he was cold. Vampires were always cold. Something else was wrong.

"Angel?" she called out.

No answer.

As she neared the bed, she saw all the bloodied rags on the floor next to it. It looked like Spike had been trying to clean out the wound on the other vampire's back. The skin had been sliced open, all the way down to the bone. He'd need lots and lots of stitches to close that one.

"Spike," came out in a whisper from the bed.

"It's Faith," she said as she kneeled down to the level of the bed in front of Angel's face.

"Faith?" he called, eyes glazed over.

She could see the blood on his face too. A cut above his eyebrow, one on his chin. His ear was covered in something she wasn't sure. Faith tried to hold in the tears. She needed to be strong, proactive. She just didn't know where to start.

"I'm here. Just tell me what to do."

Explanations would have to wait a while.

"Spike went to find Illyria," Angel mumbled.

"Downstairs. He passed out. Vicious-looking head wound. But he'll live."

Angel closed his eyes in pain.

"What do I do first?"

"He, help Spike."

"You look worse. Like hell."

"Feel like it." Angel laughed a little, splitting his lip again where it had been opened up before.

"I'm going to find something to stitch you up. Just stay here."

"Not going anywhere," the vampire groaned back.

Faith ran back downstairs. Illyria still held the bandage to Spike's head. She had not moved, not replaced the dripping piece of cloth. Faith took the soaked bandage from Illyria's hands and placed another one on the gash. The bleeding had at least slowed some.

"You have to keep up the pressure to stop the bleeding."

Illyria looked at her, confused. "I did not know. These half-breeds are so much more fragile than I thought."

"Angel," Spike whispered.

This was so new. Spike was actually concerned about his sire. From what she had gleaned from Buffy, the two despised each other. Something must have changed over the past year.

"I'm helping him, Spike. Just let Illyria take care of you." Faith turned to the office again to gather the supplies she would need to stitch Angel's back.

"Blue's here?" Spike called, eyes closed. He must mean the blue-haired creature, that from what Faith could tell, was definitely not human. Her hands were just too cold.

"She's here, Spike. Where's Wes?" She hated to ask. But she'd been running around the last fifteen minutes ready to scream his name until she was well, literally, blue in the face.

Illyria noticeably flinched, but didn't take her hands away from Spike.

"You are the dark-haired slayer," Illyria pointed out, like she knew Faith.

"Yeah. That's me."

"We do not need your assistance."

Spike passed out again, not voicing his opinion.

"Don't think you have a choice, lady." Faith's arms trembled with the supplies that she gathered from the office. "Besides, you're not exactly useful, are you?"

The icy-blue eyes glared at Faith like she could cut her in two with just a look. "Do not be insolent with me, human."

"I don't have time for this. Take care of Spike. I'll be back down to fix his head."

Faith really did not like Illyria at all. Too much posturing, no action. But now Angel was on her mind. He needed her full attention.

Rushing back up the stairs, Faith ran to Angel's room, finding him in the same position as before. She'd never done any extensive patching up of anyone. Hoping that stitches were somehow the same as fixing a tear in clothing, she set about to clean and fix the large gash on his back.

It took her what seemed like hours to clean, stitch and bandage Angel sufficiently enough so she felt comfortable at least rolling him to his side. Angel groaned in pain from the action.

"Sorry. I need to check out the front."

"Be careful," he managed to grunt out under clenched teeth.

Faith could see the scorch marks on Angel's torso, like something had taken a blowtorch to it. She really didn't know what the hell to do with those.

"You still with me?" Angel shook his head slightly. "I don't know what else to do."

"It's OK. It's better. Take care of Spike. Gunn?"

"The blue chick downstairs said he was still alive, but that was hours ago."

Angel sighed in relief.

"Where is he, Angel? No one will give me an answer."

Damn it, the man started crying. "I'm sorry Faith. So sorry. It's all my fault. I should never have done this. Things should have gone differently."

Faith had known already what the conclusion was. Had felt it down to her bones. Just like she had when her first watcher had died.

"Was it quick?" It hadn't been quick for her first watcher. She'd been tortured to death by the hands of Kakistos, an old and scary vampire.

"I wasn't there."

"You mean he died alone?" That was even worse. The man had died without his friends around him.

"Illyria found him. She was supposed to retrieve his body."

Which didn't happen, Faith surmised. She'd have to find out from Illyria why she hadn't retrieved Wes's body. Another thing on her list to do. God, she needed help with all this.

Wesley stepped into the cottage after knocking and getting no answer. A fire was set in the fireplace, tea already steaming on a table by a comfortable chair. This so obviously looked like the place he was supposed to stay and wait for Cordelia to come back for him. He could put his feet up and just sit.

He hadn't felt this calm and peaceful in years, maybe ever. Like he was done with the nonsense of saving the world from destruction. Being a mere human in the mist of beings like Angel had taken its toll on his mind and body. There were only so many times he could cheat death before his time was finally up.

His heart still ached from the loss of Fred. She had been so pure and innocent in the world, to be taken away so quickly after they had finally found each other. And the cruel punishment of her body being used by Illyria was too much for him to bear. One minute he wanted to try and accept Illyria for what she was and the next minute he still tried to find a way to bring Fred back.

Fred dying hadn't directly been Illyria's fault. No, that had been Knox's for choosing Fred in the first place. This wasn't a place that Knox would ever end up, may he rot in hell.

By every time he looked at Illyria, he thought of what could have been. He was never meant to be happy in life. For one moment, he was. Maybe that's all that people got. Their one shot, and if they blew it, well, you didn't get another one.

Wesley settled down in the chair and poured himself a cup of tea. The familiar routine made him comfortable and quite groggy. Thank goodness he wasn't coated in the blood that had quickly drained from his body. It wouldn't have made his rest all that comfortable.

Cordelia had told him he should rest. He felt weary down to his bones at that moment. Putting his head back, he peacefully drifted off to sleep. If this was what heaven could be like, then it would be so wonderful.

TBC

Next: Wesley has to make a choice that will change someone's life. For the better or worse?