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"You said there are fragments of Fred?" Spike asks.

"Yes," Illyria replies. "There are fragments of the shell with in me."

"She isn't the shell. She's Fred," Spike states.

"What are you thinking, Spike?" Wesley asks.

"Well, a wise person told me once, that fragments are often just buried pieces of a soul, and a soul cannot be destroyed. It can be unmade, but not destroyed."

"So if the fragments are still there, then the soul is just heavily suppressed?" Wesley asks.

"Right," Spike nods.

"Which means we can get Fred back."

"What happens to me then?" Illyria asks.

"I don't know," Wesley replies. "I'm not that into soul magic."

"We could try to call the Council to ask Willow," Angel suggests.

"After what they said last time, not bloody likely," Spike grimaces.

"We could try to research it on our own," Wesley suggests.

"Alright," Angel nods. "Let's get to it."

They go down to Wesley's office and grab books to start going through. Illyria joins them after a while. She had grown to like the disparate group of individuals trying to do what's decent. Going through the oldest texts, she makes notes and watches the others covertly. Wesley is tearing through the books furiously, the others with as much passion, but not as quickly. Spike seems sunk in thought, and Angel his usual broody self. Illyria would not say or think broody. She wondered sometimes how a grandsire and his childe could be so different.

"Just a philosophical question here, but if we promised to teach Illyria what's right, and then destroy her to get Fred back, are we doing the right thing?" Spike asks curiously. It had been bugging him slightly. They had promised not to hurt her, and yet most the spells he was finding that looked remotely useful destroyed the demon while reclaiming the soul

"Are you saying we shouldn't do it?" Wesley snarls. He stalks over to Spike "

I'm playing devils, or rather demon's advocate," Spike holds up his hands. "Don't stake me for it."

"I don't know," Wesley replies. "Wish our old demon's advocate were here."

"Well, she's not," Spike states. Moreover, if he had is choice, she never would be. Last, he had heard, she had herself a comfortable situation. Not a whole lot of getting down and dirty with the messiest element, a decent job, though nothing he would have chosen, and a house. The first house she had ever owned, with no nastiness attached.

"I know," Wesley nods. "Still, she'd be plowing through these quicker than any of us."

"True," Spike nods.

"Is she happy?" Wesley asks. He hadn't seen her since they helped her to 'die'. "Really happy?"

"Happiest that she's ever gotten a chance to be, with a steady job that's right up her alley, a real house, minimal fighting against demons and even a steady lover."

"Good for her," Wesley nods. "She heard about what happened with everything last spring?"

"Yes," Spike nods. "Couldn't help it, like calling to like and all that. She was bound to notice something being up."

"True," Wesley nods. "So she's settled down now?"

"Yes," Spike nods. "She still keeps up of course, but not like she used to have to."

"That's good," Wesley sinks back into the silence that had come to characterize him since Fred's death. He continues making notations as he translates his way through a bunch of spells.

"Well, this spell says something about melding," Harmony states. "And a sarcophagus, and some snakes, but I don't know if it's useful."

Wesley grabs the book and starts translating as quickly as possible. The others continue, with the first ray of hope they had had in weeks. Spike and Angel had yet to discuss it with the others, but they both felt like something bad was going to happen and fast. It was coming nearer and nearer. Both had gotten their affairs in order weeks ago. Weird for a vampire to have affairs to get into order, and it was weirder for them to feel the need. Spike had been considering contacting their old friend, but had held back, having sworn not to get her involved in any more battles for the fate of the world. She had done enough of that in her youth. After consistently saving the world for years, it had wearied her, and she had disappeared. She had trusted Spike with her cell phone number with the knowledge he would never abuse it. He had called her once a year since then to chat, but never to drag her back into what she had left voluntarily years ago.

"It doesn't make sense," Wesley growls. "It says we need a sarcophagus from Mexico, a snake from a human that is not implanted, and a slayer who claims an uncle who is dead and not dead, and a brother who is related by bond but not blood. As well as a bunch of other things in a language I can not read or even begin to translate."

"Well that screws that spell up, the slayers won't talk to us," Angel growls. "They wouldn't help us save the world anymore, let alone anyone's life."

"Spike, there's one slayer who would help us," Wesley points out.

"NO!" Spike exclaims. "We aren't dragging her into this. She left the gig years ago."

"But she said if we ever truly need her help to call her," Wesley points out. "She said she'd be there for us when we needed it most."

"Not now, not when she is finally happy," objects Spike.

"Spike, do you honestly think that she will be as happy as she thinks she is, if she knows that we needed her help and we let technicalities get in the way?" Wesley points out. "Besides, remember her other talent?"

"You mean she probably is waiting for us to call her," Spike sighs. He digs around in his pockets before pulling out a piece of paper, much folded and creased. "Do not pressure her in any way, shape, or form. Do not guilt trip her. If she doesn't want to help, don't make her feel bad about it." He hands the paper to Wesley who dials the number. It rings and is almost immediately picked up

"Spike?" a voice Wesley had not heard in over nine years replies over the line

"No, it's Wes," replies Wesley. "Hi Aliana."

'What the hell are you doing calling me, Wes? What the hell do you have going on down there?" growls Aliana. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Um, three in the morning," replies Wesley. "It's good to hear you again."

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