A/N: Since I already included a character from "Ties That Bind," I'm continuing the timeline as well. It won't make much difference save for the fact that Dawn knows Wesley and Gunn. Just go with it.
---
The first thing that occurred to Dawn as she came back to consciousness was that she was cold. The second was that her head really hurt very badly.
The third was that she would never, never have a normal relationship if things like this didn't stop happening.
Where am I? she wondered groggily. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and lifted her aching head. And her first thought was, "Charn."
One of Dawn's favorite books was still The Magician's Nephew from C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. As she looked out at the landscape in front of her, she couldn't help thinking of the dead world Charn described in that book.
She was lying on a rounded stone platform with twisted columns made of dark metal or stone standing along the edges. Beyond the columns was a flat plain covered in reddish dust. A dry riverbed cut through it, and standing here and there were little protuberances that might have been ruins or natural formations. It was dry and cold and felt like nothing had grown there for a long, long time.
Dawn glanced up, and the Charn comparison grew even stronger. Whatever structure she was in had no roof, and she could see the large, red sun that hung sullenly in the sky, followed at a distance by a sallow moon. The sun gave neither much heat nor much light. ". . . a sun near the end of its life, weary of looking down upon the world," Dawn thought, the phrase from The Magician's Nephew coming unbidden to her mind. Clad in only a linen sundress, she shivered.
It clicked in her mind that though there seemed to be enough wind to kick up a few half-hearted dust devils on the plain, Dawn didn't feel any breeze. Curious, she walked forward to the edge of the structure, between two pillars--and met resistance.
Magical shield, she thought, testing it with her hand. Should've expected that.
She turned to take a full survey of her surroundings and got a nasty shock. Lying about ten feet away from her, a faint glow about their bodies, were Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and Charles Gunn. Dawn had spent some time with Angel's friends after Buffy's death, and she recognized both of them.
"Wesley?" she called softly. She went over to take a closer look. "Gunn?"
They were dead. Of that, Dawn had no doubt; she'd seen enough death to know what it looked like. Wesley's face was white, his lips bluish, and dried blood was visible where his jacket didn't cover him. Gunn looked like he'd been all but ripped apart--Dawn looked away quickly as she realized the shiny white things she could see in his torso area were bones and internal organs. She felt a stab of sorrow; she'd liked them both.
She pulled her eyes from the corpses and discovered she was at the edge of an impressive set of ruins. The stone platform she was on overlooked what had been either a small city or a large complex of buildings. It was hard to tell. Columns and walls and even whole chunks of rooms or buildings built out of dark stone stood half-buried in the red dust of the plain. It was both a sad and a foreboding sight.
A loud rustle startled Dawn. She whipped around, looking for what had caused it. Nothing presented itself. She swallowed hard, searching her dreary surroundings for any sign of life.
Suddenly, a squat creature with only a few scrawny tentacles for limbs scuttled out of the shadows cast by a ruined wall and threw itself at the platform. Dawn shrieked, jumping back into a defensive stance, but the creature bounced harmlessly off the invisible shield.
"They cannot harm you," said a cold, flat voice.
Dawn turned. The speaker was the demon that had captured her. It walked up the stairs to the platform and crossed through the magical shield with no apparent difficulty. Somehow, in the dusty reddish light of this world, it looked even more alien than it had in Rome.
"Who are you?" Dawn asked.
The demon seemed to ignore her, its unnaturally-blue eyes straying to the plain. "They were once a proud warrior race. Legion upon legion served me unconditionally, and the army they made cast fear into a thousand dimensions." The one that had tried to attack Dawn picked itself up off the ground, shook its stumpy body, and scuttled away. "They were scattered when I was defeated--chased out of Vahla Ha'nesh by my enemies. Now, after eons, they are mere shadows of their former selves, barely-conscious animals nearly starved out of existence on a dead world, devouring each other to survive." The demon turned its eyes to Dawn. "Do you not know me in my present form?"
"No," said Dawn.
The demon walked over to her. Dawn could almost feel the restrained power in its movements; in that way, it almost reminded her of Buffy.
"I am Illyria," it said. "I am your creator."
Somehow, it was just as shocking hearing it the second time. "You--you made the Key?" Dawn asked.
"I did."
More questions than she could ever ask filled Dawn's mind. She stared at Illyria, trying to decide if any part of her recognized this being. Its face was strangely familiar, as if Dawn had seen someone once who looked like it, but she felt no sensation of déjà vu. In a way, Dawn found that fact disappointing.
Illyria, in turn, stared back, examining Dawn with its eyes. Its expression gave nothing away. Dawn couldn't tell if it was satisfied with what it saw, if it disapproved--and she had no hint as to what it was going to do.
That was the question that finally won out. "Why did you come back for me--for the Key--after all this time?" Dawn asked.
"I am but recently reawakened," said Illyria, "and much weakened. I require the power I placed in you to carry out my aims."
"And those would be . . ?"
Illyria surveyed the platform. "This is Gog-Horgul, once the least of my temples. Now it is the only place left to me that still contains a remnant of my power and possesses the right conditions for me to regain that power." It turned, its eyes finding Wesley's corpse. "I will not be thwarted again."
"Did--did you kill Wesley and Gunn?"
"It was not my will that they die," said Illyria, sounding almost offended. "Wesley was . . . exceptional among humans. His death serves no purpose." Illyria's face softened as the demon approached Wesley's body and reached out one hand as if to touch him. "I told him a lie at the end. I told him he would be reunited with the one he loved, but she no longer exists." It pulled its hand back. "There is nothing for him in death. The warlock's house and what I could salvage of my sarcophagus gave me the means to preserve him and to transport us here. Now, I will bring him back, and Gunn as well. I found him unobjectionable, and he was Wesley's friend."
"What happened to them?" asked Dawn. "What happened to Angel? Did you have anything to do with it?"
Illyria turned to face Dawn again. "Yes. I did."
---
Four months earlier:
The cacophony of battle surrounded the small band of heroes as they faced down the Senior Partners' hordes. It was a hopeless fight; all they could do was try to inflict as much damage as possible upon their foes before dying themselves.
Illyria had been the greatest of warriors in its time. Though this body was no longer indestructible and its power had been decimated, it was still the equal of any of the demons it faced. Grief and fury added to its strength as it hacked its way through the demon horde.
They wouldn't last long, it knew. Angel was still fighting like he'd just started, the blood he'd taken from Hamilton quickening him beyond his own preternatural strength. Spike, however, was beginning to labor, though the fire in his eyes was as bright as it had been at the start. Gunn was nowhere to be seen. Illyria felt certain they'd lost him. Gradually, it lost sight of Angel and Spike and concentrated only on this opponent, then the next, then the next.
Some time later, Illyria became aware that they weren't fighting alone. A number of young human women had joined the battle, fighting the demons with greater strength and skill than seemed possible. Slayers, Illyria realized, and hoped none of them would mistake it for the enemy. There were too few of them, though, to save Angel and Spike. The vampires would still die.
A sound like thunder broke from above, and bright lights swept over the battlefield. Illyria spared a glance skyward.
Helicopters? Humans and their weaponry?
Illyria was so distracted by the visual non sequitur that a demon was able to knock it to the ground. Barely a second later, Illyria was almost grateful it had; machine gun fire swept through the massed demons.
"Cease fire!" barked an amplified human male voice. "There are humans down there! Repeat, cease fire!"
After that, the chaos became even more chaotic. Soldiers dropped out of the sky, wielding firearms and electric guns at close range. Illyria regained its feet only to find itself at the wrong end of a gun. Swiftly, it seized the gun's barrel and swept it upward, striking the female soldier holding the gun in the face.
"Sam!" yelled a nearby male, and Illyria made the decision then to run. These soldiers saw it as the enemy, and it would not be killed by humans. Not after this night.
As it sought an escape route, Illyria spotted Charles Gunn's body lying about ten feet away. It ducked through the battle, seized the body, and forced its way through the masses. A hole in the wall of the Hyperion was its exit point, and from there to the sewers.
Once in the sewers, Illyria set Gunn's body down and rested for a few moments, deciding on its next move. It had no idea if Angel and Spike were still alive, but their odds of surviving the night didn't look good.
A waste, it thought. Such a waste.
It looked down at Charles Gunn's mangled body and remembered Wesley, who was lying in Cyvus Vail's dining room. Grief overwhelmed it again, and an armored fist smashed into the sewer wall. Why did humans have to be so frail? Why couldn't Illyria, once a god, do anything to stop their deaths?
It calmed itself then, recalling how at one time, it had been able to restore life to its favored few. There had to be a way. Other humans had been restored; Fred's memories contained a fragment about Buffy Summers returning to life after being killed--how? How had the Slayer died, and how had she returned?
Illyria searched the memories further. The disordered thoughts of the barely-sane Fred from that time made the search difficult, but finally, there was a memory of a sad, red-haired girl speaking to Angel, a half-heard, barely-understood conversation about a demon god and Buffy's sacrifice for her sister the Key--
The Key. Illyria was thunderstruck. It still existed, then.
A small smile crossed its face. Yes, that would do. That would do excellently well, though it would take time and great effort. There was much to be done.
Tenderly, it picked up Charles Gunn's corpse and began making its way back to Vail's house.
---
"You worked with Angel?" Dawn asked, feeling a bit of hope. "The two of you fought the Senior Partners together?"
"I was his ally in that fight," acknowledged Illyria. "The Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart will pay for what their minion did to Wesley." It turned, fixing Dawn with its eyes. "I will draw from you the power I placed in you at the beginning. With it, I will bring Wesley and Gunn back, and then I will use the remainder of the power of the Key to wreak such vengeance upon the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart as has never been heard of from the formation of the universe."
"And--and what exactly will happen to me?" asked Dawn, fearing the answer.
"Your physical form will be obliterated, of course. It is of no significance."
"It's of a lot of significance to me!"
"But not to me," said Illyria. "You are mine, and you will serve my needs. When the moon is aligned with the sun, conditions will be ripe for me to regain my power. Until then, I have preparations to make." It turned and walked away, back down to the ruined temple.
Dawn, stunned, watched Illyria walk off the platform. Finally, she regained her voice. "I'm not yours!" she shouted. "I'm myself. You can't use me like this!" She ran to the edge, where the magical shield stopped her, as Illyria disappeared into the ruins. "I'm myself!"
There was no reply. Dawn looked skyward, where the moon was drawing closer and closer to the sun.
