The building had been emptied, except for the science corridor, when he arrived. Gunn finished talking to one of the armed men lining the walls and came to meet Wesley. It seemed appropriate for them to shake hands. Wes offered his and was glad Gunn gripped it with no hesitation. The two of them walked together.

"How you holding up?" the attorney said. "You ready for this?"

Taking in the length of the corridor, Wesley thought about that. In fact, he felt utterly despondent. "I'm ready. Is the area secure?"

"Locked tight." Gunn's eyes shifted over the assembled figures. "Wasn't too hard to pull some of the old crew in. Most of your people came, too. They wanted paying upfront."

In addition to the young black men, there were some others, distinct not so much by the whiteness of their faces as by the lack of emotion on them. Wesley recognised these from the dark days when he'd been estranged from his friends. They were little more than mercenaries, but they were handy in a fight, and trustworthy.

"I'm not at all surprised," he said. "I'll check on preparations in the lab."

"Okay. Don't start without me." A Gunn's look hinted at something else.

"What is it?"

Gunn made a quick sound, as if he was trying to laugh something off. Perhaps it was necessary to maintain an image for his old comrades. He led Wes to one side as they reached the lab and spoke quietly. "Are you feeling it?"

Indeed he was. It had been growing in him for hours. "The sense of despair, you mean? I'm not allowing it to control me. Not this time."

Seeming diminished, Gunn held his gaze, and for the first time Wesley really saw the guilt he carried, saw how much he still blamed himself for what had happened last winter. He'd never looked so vulnerable. "Make this work, Wes."

It was impossible to know how to respond to that, and so Wesley answered by standing there with his friend a moment longer. He nodded briskly, an acknowledgment rather than an affirmation, and entered the lab.

A stone sarcophagus occupied the centre of the room, surrounded by four massive coils like hooked fingers. Lorne fussed around these with several technicians while Angel reattached the red crystal that Wes had broken from the sarcophagus months before. Spike stood back with his arms folded, as if supervising.

These things only occupied the peripheries of Wesley's awareness, however. What really drew his attention was Knox moving about the room with Illyria following closely behind. He was pulling crystals from his chest cavity like a ghastly stage illusionist. Wes watched the bastard set one into each of the first two coils. At the third, Illyria clamped a hand around his upper arm.

"Place them correctly, Qwa'ha Xahn," she said.

Knox beamed from ear to ear. "Well, I could do that, but-" He yelped as Illyria calmly lifted him off the floor. Angel, Spike, and Lorne all turned to look.

"Do you wish to be introduced to horrors?" Her tone was impassive, as if this were a genuine question. "Perhaps you will find it interesting to shriek through the ages that pass while the denizens of hell attempt to reassemble you." As she studied him, her head slowly tipped from side to side. She looked honestly curious.

With some reluctance, Wes crossed the lab to them. Though appealing, her idea wouldn't help anyone. When he reached her, he spoke quietly, trying to make her hear that he understood. "That's enough."

The words momentarily froze her in place. Illyria stared at the sarcophagus, and then lowered Knox softly back to the ground. She made a magisterial gesture to the nearest coil. "Obey." Knox did, finishing with the coils and placing another red crystal on the sarcophagus itself. Using a hand scanner attuned to frequencies of mystical energy, Wes noted its position.

"Wes!" Lorne stepped forward, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "Are these the things you wanted? I've been keeping an eye on the lab guys, but, you know, secret mystical technology isn't my forte."

Wesley circled the coils, checking them over. "These are rather complex, it's true."

The demon attempted a smile. "You should see a standard Entertainments Division contract."

One side of his mouth curling in a weak but grateful response, Wes inspected the laser guides and interlinked electronic micrometers around the coils, ensuring distances and positions were correct. The ratios of the coil's relative locations were critical. He released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Everything was as it should be. "Excellent work," he said to Lorne. Then he addressed the technicians. "You won't be required again today, thank you."

Following them out of the lab, Wesley beckoned to a man from his old team. "Jones, please escort these ladies and gentlemen to another part of the building. The outside of it would be good." It was a little rude, but he couldn't take any chances for the sake of good manners. He continued to follow them until he was within talking distance of Gunn. "We're ready now," he said.

- - -

"And Lorne, if you could stand here."

Angel, Spike, Gunn, and Lorne now surrounded the sarcophagus, each one of them standing under a coil.

Seeing uncertainty and failure in their eyes, Wesley began to doubt they were up to this. He tried to ignore the feeling. "A degree of concentration is needed. It's important that you allow your minds to act as conduits for the calculation."

Angel's expression became more alarmed. "We have to do math?"

Lorne groaned.

Wes raised a hand. "No. I'll be responsible for that. You four are simply part of the energy focus system."

"Oh, stop it." Spike said. "I'm blushing."

Gunn gave the vampire a look before making a questioning gesture to Wes. "What about you? Where do you go?"

"Higher spatial geometry comes into play here." Wesley indicated the coils. "Imagine each of these is a corner. Together, the four make up one plane of a shape. I must be fourteen point seven feet higher, at the apex. Coincidentally, that is in my office, directly above this room."

Their eyes moved over the coils and then pointed upward. Angel frowned and looked straight at him, verging on embarrassed. "A pyramid? Isn't that a bit, well, corny?"

"And Seventies?" Gunn said.

Even in his dark mood, Wes felt a trace of amusement and welcomed it as a small victory. He was lucky to know these people. They'd do fine. "It's actually the extension into three dimensions of a hyper-polygonic-"

They all stared at him.

"It's a pyramid," he finished.

The amusement remained a little while. After a period of silence, Wesley made a move to the door. "Right, then. Once Illyria is in position the procedure can begin. I thought of several things to say at this moment, but they all seem redundant now." He gave them a final look, and knew he could rely on them.

- - -

Together with Illyria and Knox, Wes marched along the science corridor to the stairs. Two of the new guards, Rondell and Brownstreet, fell in wordlessly behind them. Wesley's emotions were telling him to find a corner somewhere to crawl into, but he paid them no heed. He was making the decisions.

They hadn't got very far when Spike caught them up. "Can you give me a second?" Without waiting for an answer he pulled Wes back so that they lagged behind the others. "I didn't want to say anything in there, but Fred told me she had other ways for ghosts to get their bodies back. Dangerous, she said."

Wes shrugged with one shoulder. "What I'm about to try does have an element of risk, yes."

"Risk for…?"

"Me. Were I to become lost in the calculation, I might be unable to return from it." He spoke in a voice that sounded as careless as he felt on the subject. Any danger to him was reasonable.

Seeming to appreciate this, Spike nodded. "Well, best of British and all that. You bring her back, now."

"Thank you," Wesley said, truly grateful to the vampire. Spike turned back to the lab, and Wes continued along the corridor to the stairs, feeling more positive. When he arrived at his office, Rondell and Brownstreet flanked the doorway.

"She'll come through," Rondell said. "She's a fighter." Wesley inclined his head.

In the office, Wes drew a small cross on the carpet and waited while Knox placed the final crystal. It was a vivid yellow colour, almost an amber. The scanner showed Wesley that its location was within the acceptable margin of error, and he took out his phone to call the lab. Angel would be waiting to sign Knox's release papers. Before he could make the call, Knox himself approached, his eyes laughing. "I want you to know – and I want you to tell Angel – that I'll be making a formal complaint." Even now he looked cheerful and smug; it bordered on the psychotic. Illyria, who had been gazing at the crystal, glanced up and casually slapped him across the face. There were two muffled crunches as his head span almost two hundred and seventy degrees. He dropped to the floor.

Nothing needed to be said. After Wes called Angel to let him know they were finished with Knox, a portal opened and the man was taken back to wherever he'd come from.

So. The sacraments were in position. Illyria merely had to take her place in the lab, and all would be ready. This was the time to say goodbye. The Old One deserved a kind farewell. "Illyria," Wesley began, "I wanted to thank you."

Those unearthly eyes lowered. She seemed simultaneously detached and troubled. "Now I truly understand nightmare," she said. "I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams." Graceful disappointment took away some of her posture. "I once ruled this world and many others. I was to have ruled again." Her words were almost a sigh. "The shell is with me always now. Her thoughts and feelings are mine. I cannot be wise when her soul whispers. I fear she has bested me." The little animation that had been in her face faded into blankness and her head tilted. "She speaks. I know the words but I do not understand them."

"What are they?" Wesley hadn't spoken for several seconds. His breath had caught.

"Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur." She was quoting from the Roman farce writer Publilius Syrus – even a god can scarcely love and be wise at the same time. Returning to an alert stance, Illyria faced him. "I grow impatient for the Well, for the embrace of its sleep until my and my brethren's return."

Wes smiled a little. "I'm afraid I won't be here for that."

She stared back. "You have not seen me in my grace and majesty, Wesley. Pray you never do." Moving to the windows, she cast her gaze over Los Angeles in much the same way Angel did. There was a hint of protectiveness in her look. "The latter days when the Old Ones reawaken will be a time of great chaos and pain."

The moment felt crucial. Joining her, Wes let his own eyes roam across the buildings and the confused, clumsy humanity. "Then remember what you have learnt here."

Her smile was slight and not a bit like any of Fred's smiles. "I will try."

He touched a cautious hand to her shoulder. "Rest well, Illyria."

"Be happy with her," she said.

- - -

It seemed strange to Angel, but now that Illyria was leaving the world she looked more comfortable than she ever had. Saying nothing, she walked across the lab and lay on the sarcophagus. Angel blinked when he saw her cross her arms over her chest.

Her eyes flicked in his direction. "It seemed apt." Was she joking with him?

Spike coughed. "See you around, then, Blue."

Those eyes moved toward him. "It is unlikely you will exist for long enough. You should develop your fighting skills. You telegraph most of your blows."

"Oh, do I?" Apparently finding it easy to accept that she was teasing him, Spike took on an expression of mock offence. "You hit like a girl." He smirked.

"Farewell, Spike." There was some sadness in her voice. The eyes shifted to Gunn. "You are unnecessarily troubled, Charles Gunn."

He smiled feebly. "Not sure it's unnecessary, but thanks. Take it easy."

As she looked at him, the faintest glimmer of compassion formed in the depths of her icy stare. Then she turned to Lorne. "Krevlorneswath, our song was agreeable."

Although he was often surprisingly guarded, the demon smiled warmly. "If you ever want a gig, blueberry muffin, you know who to call."

Some of the warmth reflected back from her, but when her glance fell on Angel it had gone. In its place there was something else. Respect? "I entrust this kingdom to you, Angel."

Instead of responding to that with something sardonic, Angel bowed slightly. It occurred to him that she was essentially saying goodbye to what she thought of as her court, but humouring her was the right and kind thing to do. Besides, he couldn't help but feel secretly flattered.

Her gaze finally came to rest pointing straight at the ceiling. "It is time. Begin."

Angel closed his eyes. Almost immediately he felt a jolt as something began to pass through him, tying him to the rest of the Black Thorn. It was like an electric shock, but not physical. Even while his body slumped and relaxed, so that it began to seem far from him, his awareness was stretched and prickling. It was as if his soul had been plugged into the LA power grid. In a panicked trance, he inwardly gritted his teeth and held on, wondering what this must be like for Wesley.

- - -

Wesley knew the trees, of course. It had only been three years since he was last in Pylea. He made his way through their tangles, following the singing as if it were a gentle stream on the forest floor. This was no dream or hallucination; this was solid and unchanging. Yet it wasn't real, either. The air, light, and world around were quite literally perfect. He was living the calculation.

She stood in a clearing, surrounded by four tall trees. Greasy hair hung in strands over her dirty face and burlap rags. She was beautiful; his dear one. Captivated by the sight, Wes moved between foliage that now seemed almost ethereal and stopped a few feet away from her. In truth, he didn't dare approach too closely in case that would somehow break this spell. And so he watched her – an old habit. She went to each of the trees in turn, humming snatches of song and peering into the branches. Then she saw him and broke into a grin. "Hi!"

Shadows were banished. "Hello, Fred."

The grin widened and she immediately took his hand, leading him across the clearing. Her tone was bright and familiar. "I used to come to this place sometimes, 'cause it's miles from anywhere and I could be safe for a while. Although it being miles from anywhere meant there was no real food… But there were nuts." Her hand was alive, soft, and radiated heat. Her grip was firm.

"Nuts aren't real food?" He'd missed her so much.

She stopped and turned to him with a little smile and comically guilty eyes. "I tried to think they were nuts when I ate 'em. Bugs love these trees." A laugh escaped her and they began to walk again. "I became an amateur entomologist for a while. And an etymologist. Naming things was a good way to keep my mind occupied." They'd reached one of the trees now, and Wesley could see a number of pupae among its leaves. Fred placed a hand on his arm. "Don't worry. No nuts today. We're just here to see the butterflies."

One had almost broken free of its chrysalis. It slid out and its wings began to unfold with tiny pulses, spreading and drying quickly. They were spectacular. After what seemed no time at all, the wings flickered and the insect flew away, perhaps to cause a hurricane or two.

"Such a sweet thing!" Fred said. She nodded, smiling, obviously a little pleased with herself. "I called it Miluus Paelius vastitatis."

"Pylean kite of desolation?"

"I was feeling kinda down." Gazing at him fondly, she touched his neck with one hand while picking a leaf with the other. It twirled back and forth in her fingers before she handed it over. "The Mandelbrot fractal set."

Wesley examined the leaf.

She leaned close, conspiratorial. "Careful. Curiosity killed the cat."

Lifting his head, Wes allowed his gaze to linger on her face. Fred looked and smelt like someone who'd been living in cave for years, but he barely noticed, fixed as he was by her eyes and the soul within them. He was about to embrace her when he heard distant voices and the sounds of branches tearing. "Palace guards," he murmured.

Her big eyes became huge eyes, even while a worried frown narrowed her face. "There are no palace guards in this version of Pylea. Wesley, it's them."

Wes reached into his jacket and found no holster and no gun. He raised an eyebrow. "I'd have loved a gun, Fred."

A corner of her mouth quirking apologetically, she shrugged. Then her head turned as the sounds began again, somewhat closer. "We have to leave." She took his hand once more and led him out of the clearing. What seemed like miles of forest and then open country passed by them in minutes.

They came to a cliff and started clambering along a narrow path. "Watch your step here," she said. "You don't wanna wind up in the drokken gully." After only a few more yards the entrance to a cave came into view and she ran inside. Wesley followed, reading parts of the writing-covered walls. Equations flowed incongruously over the coarse stone. Who would win in a fight between astronauts and cavemen? Here was the lateral answer. They all win, because they stop fighting and start cooperating.

"Fred?" he called, surprised that her cave was this size. It went far into the cliff and, oddly, the luminosity slowly grew as Wes moved deeper inside. He wasn't certain when the floor changed, or when light fittings and furniture began to emerge from the gloom, but he abruptly realised he was in the lobby of the Hyperion. Fred was also there, wearing a summer dress and denim jacket, her hair in bunches. There was no pentagram on the floor. This was the dream, the one in which he always made her leave. She stood near the reception desk, facing his old office.

Not this time, he thought and went to the other side of the desk to stand opposite her. "The hotel?" He asked the question gently. "Why are we here, Fred?"

Placing an elbow on the desk, she rested her chin on her palm. "Define supersymmetry for me."

Wesley had to stop and think. As usual, she'd surprised him. Her other hand lay on the desktop, and Wes slid his palm over the varnished wood until his fingertips touched hers. "Supersymmetry is the hypothesis that every particle in nature has an as-yet-undiscovered perfect partner."

Her fingers crept over his, thumb stroking the back of his hand. "I guess by this stage we can lose the 'as-yet-undiscovered' part." Fred glanced around the lobby. "This is where and when you made me feel connected and a part of the world." A heart-stopping smile appeared on her face as she looked at him again. "I felt so wanted."

He returned the smile. It was impossible not to. "You are, always."

"And the great thing is I know it."

With his free hand, Wes brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. They stayed like that for a while.

"So what happens now?" he said at last.

A suggestion of unease crept onto Fred's happy face. "In a second I'm gonna ask to stay."

- - -

Angel's eyes slammed open and he looked at the still-motionless Illyria. There was no visible change, but that seemed almost irrelevant. It wasn't necessary for him to ask Spike why he had also just snapped out of the trance. The two vampires stared at one another. Fred's scent was in the air.

"Whoa." Gunn stood straight, blinking. Lorne began to stir. The Circle was broken.

Illyria moaned a little. Without a second's thought, Angel darted to the sarcophagus and took one of her hands, while Spike moved to grasp the other. Lorne and Gunn joined them. The demon squatted so that he was on a level with her, his head close to hers. "Fred, honey, is that you?"

"Hey, Fred." Gunn's light-heartedness sounded desperate to Angel.

Leaning forward, Spike held her hand between both of his. His expression was intense, but his voice was soft. "Come on, love. Come back to us."

It was all any of them could do. Angel glanced up at the ceiling. Wes was on his own, now.

- - -

There were only a few dry chuckles at first, but it didn't take long before Father was laughing like a drain in Wesley's mind. The hateful sound was so shrewd, so antithetical to humour. Wes began to shiver and reached out to Fred. "Don't go."

She shook her head, pulling away. "I belong here. Un-unless I don't. Which if-if you don't wanna put up with me, I completely understand..."

Suddenly he found himself on the other side of the desk, gripping her arms. He inevitably walked her toward the doors. Their relationship had always been doomed, always been based on doom. Father's laughter went on and on. They reached the steps, and the doors opened on the void beyond. Wesley knew he'd step into it with her.

"Please, Wesley, why can't I stay?" There was trust in Fred's eyes. Wes looked with dread at what lay outside the hotel.

The void… it was them. They were actually elements of a whole, an immense and ruthless mechanism driving all before it into darkness. It drained the light from him, making hope into nothing but pain. And Father was a part of it, an inner expression of an outer evil. Wesley looked at the laughing man inside and saw himself as well as his father looking back. It was to these as much as Fred that he spoke. "Let's put it to a vote, shall we?" We can do this, he thought. We can make the decision.

Father laughed harder than ever, but the inner Wesley faltered a little. While that wasn't much, it was an opening. Wes appealed to himself. "All in favour say aye."

Inner Wesley glanced at Father for a long moment, then smiled, lopsided. It became apparent that his face was laterally inverted – a mirror image. "Aye," he mouthed, raising a hand as Wes spoke the word. Father fell silent, and something that had been crushing Wesley's soul, lifted. Folding his arms around Fred, he turned away from the doors, sheltering her from the nothingness beyond. Chivalry was appropriate on this occasion. "Motion passed. Good. You're staying."

Moving her hands to his neck and shoulder, she brought her face close, no sign in her expression that there had been a chance of failure. "Satisfaction brought her back." She favoured him with another brilliant smile and pressed her lips to his.

- - -

Blue to brown. Seeing Illyria's eyes change colour before they squeezed shut was like watching a brutal force of nature at work. This power took hold of Angel, too, throwing him away from the sarcophagus, his skull impacting against one of the coils. He landed beside Gunn, dimly understanding that all of them had been knocked to the floor. It took a few seconds for his head to clear. By the time he stood she was getting to her feet.

There was still a greyish tinge to the naked woman's skin, but this quickly faded, passing along her body and leaving it through a hand that she had pressed against the sarcophagus. When it was over, she opened her eyes, seeming lost.

Lorne was the nearest, taking off his jacket to cover her. It looked faintly ridiculous – the shoulders were more than twice as wide as hers. As he fastened the buttons, she gazed uncertainly into his eyes.

"Hi, Lorne." Her voice was tiny.

The demon answered in kind. "Hi." His own voice was unusually devoid of irony. "Fred, could you…"

"Sure." She began to sing. "Ro-"

That was as far as she got before Lorne threw his arms around her and kept them there. He eventually turned to the others. "It's her. It's just her."

Her eyes became more focused and she looked at them all, a grin starting to appear. "I knew you'd come through for me, boys." Angel just stared in joyful disbelief.

His smile a little hesitant, Gunn approached her. "Look, Fred, I-"

"Don't be silly," she said, reassuring, hugging him before she turned to Spike.

The other vampire put his hands up in surrender. "Remind me to stay out of your bad books, love."

She rolled her eyes. "Spike."

He laughed. Then, sobering a little, he held her. "Really thought we'd lost you, you know."

Angel relived all his memories of her when she faced him. A couple of seconds passed while they smiled at each other; then she squeezed him affectionately. "Saved again."

Yes, Angel thought, I have been. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm feeling like someone who hasn't eaten for five months." She laughed, small but genuine. "I'm fine, considering. I-" She looked quickly to the side. Following her gaze, Angel saw that Wes stood in the doorway. The man's face was close to vacant and he swayed a little. He managed to take a step into the room before he fell to his knees and then his haunches. Angel was about to go to him when Fred ran across the lab. She knelt and embraced Wesley, resting his head on her shoulder and holding him upright. "It's okay. Everything's okay."

Wes began to shake. Placing her mouth to his ear, Fred sang, so quietly than Angel could barely hear it. He couldn't even tell if there were words or just a melody. Turning to the others, he noticed that Spike was also straining to make it out. The empath, however, appeared to see something. Angel walked around the sarcophagus to stand by him. "Lorne?"

"She'll be okay." Lorne sounded certain.

There was calm amazement in Gunn's voice. "After what happened to her?"

Angel watched Spike smile at the man and woman on the floor, and for a moment he didn't look like Spike. He looked like William, the strange innocent Drucilla had brought home one night like a cat with a mouse. "We should leave them to it. Anyway, I need to find a pen."

Giving them time alone sounded good, but Fred and Wes probably didn't even notice anyone else was in the room. His shaking had stopped and she now just held onto him. Something else had changed in the last few minutes. Angel felt blissfully cut loose. "Come on," he said to the others. "We won today. Let's celebrate."

- - -

Fred. He rubbed his face against her skin.

Lorne's jacket kept slipping from her shoulder, and she eventually pulled the garment off altogether. She pressed Wesley against her chest, kissing and stroking his head. The heat of her body, the touch and smell of her, the rhythms of her heart and breath, gradually soothed him. After a time she drew back, fingertips trailing over his brow. "You see? I told you we'd be together."

"That was you?" But hadn't he known?

She smiled at him. "Mostly."

It was a smile a man could bask in, and Wesley was doing that when a sense of reality began to return. Whatever had just happened was vague in his memory, but he knew they'd succeeded. Fred had succeeded. Was he actually allowing himself to be comforted when it was she who had been through an unimaginably hellish experience? Wes summoned the shreds of strength left to him in an attempt to at least get to his knees, but found he was literally unable to do so. He settled for putting his hands around her waist. "Were we just in the hotel?"

"I think so," she said. "It's all a bit fuzzy."

"Yes." His eyes traced her features. "How much do you remember about the last few months?"

"All of it."

There was pain on her face, and Wes felt disgusted with his own insensitivity. "I'm sorry. This isn't the time."

"Will there be one?" Somehow she brought her smile a little of the way back. "I remember it was pretty bad at first, then it got to be kinda like being back in the cave, which wasn't good either, but there was a window and I could see all my friends. I could see you." The smile faded and her eyes began to moisten. "I tried to let you know I was okay. I tried so hard."

It was enough. Wes attempted to raise himself onto his knees again, and again he discovered it was impossible. He did it anyway, and mirrored Fred's and his earlier arrangement; only this time it was her head against his chest. His fingers moved in a small circle on her scalp. "You were amazing, just like always." Sliding his hand under her chin so that he could carefully raise her face toward his, Wesley managed a soft laugh. "You know I'm not good at picking up signals."

This made her laugh a little, too. They kissed; time passed.

She stood, pulling him with her, and it wasn't impossible to stand, not when she was there. Fred took a lab coat from the wall, slipping it on before linking an arm through his. He kissed the top of her head. "You should really let Medical have a look at you."

A corner of her mouth pulled inward. "Because they did such a great job the last time."

They at looked at each other and embraced needfully. Wes toyed with her hair. "Would you come to Medical with me, please?"

She looked up at him, and the put-upon expression she wore was wonderful. "Okay, but I'm not letting them keep hold of me for long. We're getting food, then we're going home, and we're going to bed." Something about his face made her grin. "To sleep."

"Of course. You must be exhausted." As was he, though he couldn't imagine being able to sleep at the moment.

She leaned against him so that her jaw was flat against his chest. "We have to build up our strength up for tonight."

"Tonight?"

Her voice was a happy caress. "Uh huh. You're taking me out. It's going to be a surprise."