2

Wesley moved away from the sofa, backing away from Harmony's reanimated, splotchy blue corpse, who now wanted to be addressed as " Illyria." He placed his right hand inside the pocket of his jacket, gripping the crucifix he kept there, for occasions when Wolfram & Hart vampire employees got out of hand.

She rose up quickly, standing straight, with a haughty demeanor.

"What place is this?" She demanded, "Where are my Devotees, and why is my Devine Personage contained in such an unworthy vessel of corrupt flesh?"

He told her, "You are in Los Angeles California. In the apartment of my betrothed, Miss Winifred Berkel; who works as a researcher for Wolfram and Hart Corporation."

She raised her voice in anger. "I am in the home of a woman of an inferior class? Who is responsible for this outrage?"

"Whoever it was," he told her, "he, she or they, sealed you inside an accursed

Sarcophagus, more than three thousand years ago."

"Oh yes." She nodded, "The Leaders of the Rebellion. Three thousand years have passed? Does the Rebellion still continue?"

He shook his head, "That Rebellion is a long time ended, and a long time forgotten."

"Then why was I only released now?"

"Because you Illyria, are a long time forgotten yourself."

"I? Illyria? A long time forgotten?"

"It happens to everyone eventually Illyria, including Divinities such as yourself."

She stood there silently, with no change of expression.

Then she asked, "Tell me, what is your name?"

"I am Wesley Wyndham-Pryce the third. I am now an Executive at Wolfram and Hart Corporation, and a former member of the Watcher's Council."

"'Watcher's Council'? Tell me Lord Wesley Wyndham-Pryce the Third."

"I am not a Lordship."

She sighed in resignation. Then she asked, "What do the members of this Council of yours watch?"

He went on, "We watch vampires."

"I see. Are there any vampires nearby now?"

"Nearer than you apparently realize, oh most Devine One."

She turned around, and looked through the open doorway into the bedroom. She saw the lifeless body of Winifred Berkel.

"This woman is dead. Killed by a vampire."

"That is correct."

"Have you come to drive a wooden stake through her heart, to prevent her from becoming a vampire herself?"

"No." He shook his head. "Never. She is the woman I love. My betrothed. I will never do that to her, and I will do all that is within my power, to prevent anyone else from doing so."

"You intend to remain betrothed to a woman, who might become a vampire? Will you be wed to a vampire?"

"I am greatly distraught." He told her, "I know I am exercising very poor judgment, in regards to this situation."

"Indeed!"

"If it wasn't for you," he spoke sharply, "she would not have been killed this way!"

"How could I have any involvement in this situation, when I've been sealed inside a sarcophagus, for the past three thousand years?"

"I have no idea who rebelled against you, or why! What I do know, is that you were sealed inside that accursed sarcophagus! I also know that my betrothed Winifred Berkel was the one who unsealed the sarcophagus. When she did, she inhaled an ether, that caused an infection that was going to kill her.

"I did not want to lose her entirely, so I had a vampire named Harmony come over here today, and bite her, so that she would remain in this world, as a vampire."

"You are a fool, Wesley Wyndham Price the Third."

"In this situation, I cannot argue."

"Wait. You said the vampire was named Harmony. That is what you called me."

"That is correct Illyria. You may have been a Divinity, three thousand years ago, but now, you are just a humble vampire girl, who has drunk blood that was infected with you."

Now the splotchy blue woman growled. She extended her fangs, and pounced toward

Wesley. He pulled the crucifix out of his pocket, and held it between her and himself.

Illyria reached out and gripped the crucifix. Then she howled in agony, and pulled her hand away as she recoiled back.

"Wes!" She called out with Harmony's voice, "What the hell's the matter with you?"

The splotchy blue color was gone from the Wolfram and Hart receptionist. Her skin had returned to its normal tone and her hair was blonde again. She looked at the palm of her hand that had touched the crucifix. She held the wrist in her other hand.

She asked with a whimpery voice, "Don't you know how much that hurts?"