Biiiiiiig thanks to Sockmonkeyhere for being my beta. Love ya!
Blah blah, I don't own any of the characters. ('Cept for Simon, Karen, Shannon, and Rob.)
-Clocky
Wesley why can't I stay?
Reverse, reverse, rewind, rewind, scattered thoughts and pain, memories moving ever backwards, stopping from the moment she fell on the stairs.
You make me happy, when skies are-hurk...
Falling, being caught, in a hospital bed. Her boys all around her. So much hurt, a dull pain in her middle, gnawing at her and eating away, her chest all tight and constricted, like there's a vise around her lungs. Then she's in her apartment, and Wesley is there...
Finally get you into my bedroom and all you wanna do is read...
This is my power! To not let them take me!
Wesley, why can't I stay?
Rewind, rewind. All over again, reliving and dying. Faces swirl, flashes of battle, Wesley on the floor, rain, smell of gasoline and bits of road. Doglike faces with glowing eyes in the darkness...
Over and over again, they don't take her but she's in their clutches, and she's falling again...
Sunshine... my only sunshine... you make me happy...
"So... you're telling us that... Fred is still in there?"
Shannon nodded; she liked Angel's voice. It had a calm, lucid quality to it that was soothing. Though he also sounded like he had a lot going on in his head.
Illyria merely sat, looking haughty and sticking her nose in the air. The group had gathered in the back room of the diner, which housed a small kitchenette and living room area with a small television in one corner, and a pair of doors which no doubt led to bedrooms.
"I mean... Look, I'm no expert, but there's definitely more than one person in that body. Here, let me show y'all."
She moved towards Gunn. "Do you mind if I use you as a model for a minute?"
"Uhhh, okay. Not gonna frisk me, are ya?"
She shook her head. "No, no, don't worry. Here," she moved her hands around his arms and middle about a foot. "A soul, a person, has two auras. The outer aura shows the physical health of the body; the larger and brighter it is, the healthier it is. The inner aura is... umm... the self. Personality, being, whatever makes the person, that's the inner aura." She gestured slightly more inward, closer to Gunn. She nodded towards Illyria. "She had four auras in her. That's why I thought someone was standing behind her, or something. Guess what it really is is there's two of 'em in there."
"But the Doctor at Wolfram and Hart said her soul had been.. consumed. How's that possible?" Gunn eyed Illyria.
"Soul can't be... destroyed. I don't think... Broken, I guess, lost, but isn't the whole purpose of a soul is to ensure you go on after death?" Shannon looked off into the distance, face screwed up in thought.
Angel sat himself down on the arm of a ragged little sofa. "Fred's... still in there, somewhere. Illyria, you have to let her back."
"Even if I wished to leave yet, I could not bring her back. I took her out, but pieces the were lost in the hollowing process. And I do not wish to leave just yet."
Angel stood again, but it was Spike who snarled from the corner. "It's not your body, little Shiva. You took it from her, and you'll give it back when we say. You're not a king anymore, you're not in charge."
Illyria was standing before him in a flash. "You will not speak to me that way! I could obliterate you if I deemed you worthy."
Spike sneered. "You've had every chance to do one of us in, all this time, but you haven't. Why's that, blue? Is it just maybe, that little bit, that piece of Fred is holding you back? Or have you actually started to give a shite about us 'primitives'?"
Illyria's eyes seemed to grow colder; her hand lashed out, inches from grabbing hold of Spike's neck.
"When you manage to return the Burkle, I will leave this shell and not return. If I ever do, it will be because I have risen to what I was, and I will slaughter each and every one of you, including your Winifred."
Angel approached Illyria, looking frighteningly imposing before her. "You're gonna give Fred back her body, and you're going to leave and never come back, and if you do, it's not going to be us who get killed; got it?"
Shannon reached up and took hold of Gunn's upper arm; he jumped. She removed her hand, muttering "Sorry," then faced Angel and Illyria. "Um... If.. if there's going to be killing going on, could it please not be in my diner? I.. I try to avoid death, you know, much as possible."
There was a heavy, prolonged silence in the room, and the tension was so thick that suffocation was a distinct possibility. It was broken by a door opening to the side, and Karen appeared, looking snooty.
"I'm going to check on Simon... Why are they still here?"
"They saved yours and Simon's lives... They actually get rid of vampires for a living." Shannon crossed her arms.
"Well... not really a living, exactly... We kinda... help the helpless." Angel broke his dangerous gaze from Illyria, who continued to eye him coldly.
Shannon shrugged. "Close enough. If that offer from earlier is still up, to take care of the vampires..."
Angel nodded. "Of course it is, we couldn't leave here and let you guys try and take them on yourselves. You're not equipped for it, it's dangerous."
"We've been doing just FINE without you."
"Karen, don't start."
"I want to help, then." Karen jabbed herself in the chest with her thumb.
Angel shook his head. "It's way too dangerous, you'll stay here, where you won't get hurt."
"That's not fair-"
"Don't argue with him!" Shannon cut her off, pleading. "You've got to stop it, Karen. You almost died tonight... I know you don't take value over your life, but dammit, Mom and Dad would not have wanted you to risk your neck for what happened to them. Don't give me that look, I know that's why you're so hellbent on helping. You're a kid, Karen. You have to be a kid and get off this stupid vengeance kick. For once in your life, listen to me."
Karen slumped where she stood, looking pitiful.
Angel and company decided to take that moment to leave the diner and return to the motel. The sun would be rising soon, and as they left Angel promised they would return tomorrow night.
"If I can repay you, in any way... We don't have a lot but-"
"No, no... But I was wondering, maybe... You could try and do something to bring our friend back?" Angel muttered as they slipped from the room, keeping out of earshot of Illyria.
"HER? Aw geez... I dunno, I mean... Look, I can't promise anything. Really."
"I'm not asking you to promise... Just, to try."
She nodded. "That, I can do."
"Thank you."
Illyria spent the following day roaming the outskirts of the town, relishing the pounding heat from the sun, which hung fat and yellow in the sky.
Conversations with Wesley floated through her mind, and she sifted through them.
He had hated this world without the Burkle human in it, had accepted death with the knowledge that he would see her once he had passed on. But now, with the information that the Burkle was still here, on this plane... She knew Wesley most likely hated where he was now, because the one called Fred was not there with him. Illyria had not liked it when Wesley hated things or was grieving, so if she left the shell and moved to another plane...
She would be walking into irritation and unpleasantry; even if she wished to see Wesley again. This concept bothered her.
She thought about bodies, about shells and planes of existence. The inklings of a plan began to appear within her mind.
The following evening garnered a surprising lack of participation from the Angel crew. Lorne had deigned to stay behind at the hotel with Gunn, who was still recuperating with several stitches in his side; and while he claimed to be doing fine, he still had trouble doing much strenuous activity.
Angel decided that punching vampires in the face constituted as 'strenuous'.
Not to mention Illyria seemed to have gone on strike after the confrontation with Spike and Angel, contenting herself to roam the edges of town in Fred-face searching for coyotes. She appeared at the motel at random, only stopping in to pick at a bag of Doritos and inform Spike that the lupine creatures continued to elude her.
Spike merely nodded. "Yeah, they'll tend to do that."
No one wanted to force her into joining them while helping Shannon and her little ragtag slayer group, though. The unspoken but unanimously understood thought was that if they irritated her too much, she would disappear with Fred's body, and they'd have no chance of returning their friend.
So when the sun finally set, it was only Angel and Spike who gathered directions from Shannon, and drove out in her pickup truck to what she called the vampire's 'headquarters'.
"S'far as vamps go, we had way better taste than they do," Spike muttered.
The 'headquarters' was a rickety-looking old barn. There were holes in the roof and any paint job it may have had in the past had long since faded; the wood was now a soggy grey color. Light bled from the cracks in the double doors, and a meat hook suspended on a rope from the roof held a bucket that, even from this distance, reeked of blood.
Spike tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with his boot. "Shall we, then?"
Angel nodded. "That we shall."
They crept up towards the door, and as they approached they heard shuffling on the inside, and a voice bemoaning the loss of 'Cheyenne, Margie, and Carl'. Spike assumed it was the vamps from the previous night.
"Carl was a retard anyway, no loss," Came a second voice.
"Those dumbass kids have never taken out more than one of us on any given night. Shit, how many has it been, really, these last couple'a years? Like four? And they've all been newly turned. They've got help now, no doubt about it."
It was just about then that Angel kicked open the door and they strolled right in, and it was so unexpected and random that the six vampires within the barn paused to stare.
The old stalls that had once housed horses now housed lumpy looking mattresses, each one vaguely personalised in various ways. An old television set sat at the far end of the barn before a couple of sofas, which were stained bloody.
"Evenin', ladies and gents."
Interestingly, there was no 'who the hell are you'; there was a momentary silence, and then they charged, the six of them leaping over the sofas and various crates strewn around the floor of the barn.
Spike caught the first one with a nasty right hook to the jaw, then ducked a blow from another one. A brief look at Angel told him that it was three on one for both of them.
Goody goody.
He turned the duck into a lunge and slammed his head full-pelt into one of the women's abdomen; two men leapt after them as they rolled across the floor. Spike whipped a stake from his sleeve and jammed it into the woman's breastbone; screaming, she crumpled to dust. This is just sad, Spike mused, silly little prats picking off blokes in a sleepy little town that doesn't see a thing coming...
He leaped to his feet and his face met a fist. Spike jerked backwards, and kicked out, catching his assailant in the stomach. The vampire fell backwards, and Spike caught the second one with his elbow in the face.
He grabbed hold of the first man's shirt and jabbed the stake into him, dusting him, and whipped around to shove the stake into the second, whose bloody nose quickly disappeared in a splash of grey.
He turned in time to see Angel pull off a little spin-kick maneuver and knock his last assailant off his feet, landing on one foot and knee to slam the stake into the vampire's chest, obliterating him. Angel brushed off his shirt, looking as if quite a large amount of the grump that had been accumulating since they fled LA had been worked out.
It was over quickly and hadn't been much of a fight, but Spike felt loosened out, less tense. Thrill of battle had always somehow managed to relax him afterwards; the exploding of emotion and energy that was almost like a high that he gradually came down from after a fight. What he needed now was a drink and a sofa.
"Nice little deal they carved out, looks like. Take over a small town, pick off whoever they want, nobody figures out the cause of death, and they live like... really filthy kings in an old barn." Angel kicked at one of the mattresses, strewn with beer bottles and porno magazines.
"Guess they didn't expect a couple'a vamps who know what they're doin' t'show up." Spike sniffed the air.
"Guess not. How long did that take, anyway? Ten, twenty minutes?" Angel checked his watch.
"What, s'that a new record?"
"... Yeah, actually, I think it is."
"... You're keeping track?"
Angel coughed. "Let's just... get back. Give 'em the news."
"HYYYAAAH!"
From the door of the barn came a rather blurred yellow figure, who halted and stared when it saw the unscathed Spike and Angel, and the dust-covered floor.
Karen, in a bright yellow sweatshirt and looking sorely disappointed.
"Balls," she muttered.
Needless to say, the ride back to the diner was fairly awkward.
"You are sooo freaking lucky you didn't get hurt! Your bike doesn't have any of those reflector things on it; what if you got hit by a car?"
"Jesus, Shan. I'm fine, will ya quit it already?"
"No, I won't!"
The battle that waged between Karen and her sister had been going on since they'd returned to the diner, and while it mainly consisted of Shannon shouting about how Karen could have died, she was grasping at straws trying to make Karen understand how worried she had truly been. Spike had no siblings as a child, and he was curious at the way these two treated each other. He had been fairly docile as a teenager, immersing himself in books most of the time; he wondered if he had been as snotty as Karen was being now, would he have turned out differently?
Would his mother have kicked his ass?
Finally, though, Shannon broke down, shoulders slumped, and threw her arms around Karen's shoulders.
"I was so worried about you... I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Karen."
There was silence. Rob and Simon (whose hand was now bandaged up in a splint and cast) peered from their spot at the counter.
Karen's mouth hung open for a moment, then she returned the hug. "'M sorry, Shan."
"I love you, sis."
"Yeah." Karen sniffled. "Me too."
Shannon held her at arm's length and smiled. "No more fighting, no more vampires; be a kid, Karen. Go out and experiment with pot and beer, that's way safer."
There was snickering from the entire group, and Shannon seemed to remember that they were not alone in the room. She straightened and turned towards Angel and Spike.
"I can't thank you guys enough, on the town's behalf and ours. And... I think you'll be happy to know, I think I've got an idea to bring your friend back. Rob and Simon found some stuff out for me, and I think there's something I can do."
"Thanks for saving my life the other night, by the way." Simon waved his injured arm. "Wanna sign my cast?"
Angel smiled, worry seeming to wash away from his face. "It's no trouble. If you guys ever have trouble with vampires or anything else around here, give us a call. We'll gladly come and help you out."
"Hey! I got a question! What brought guys like you to a place like Cromwell? There's like... nothing here. Except for Shannon's pie. What'd you come here in the first place for?" Simon asked.
Angel hesitated. "Well... we used to be, well still are, a detective agency; Angel Investigations. We help the helpless. We got involved with this big multi-dimensional evil law firm and tried to do some good with it. Ended up causing more trouble than it was worth, and we had to leave LA so the higher-ups didn't catch us."
"Who were the higher-ups?"
"S'probably best you folks don't know. Less you know about 'em would be safest, I imagine."
Angel nodded at Spike. "He's right. The less you know about it, the better for you." Angel looked over Shannon. "What's your idea with Fred?"
The following evening found the entire Angel Investigations group in their motel room, joined by Shannon, who was explaining her theory.
"See, Simon found this thing in a book at the library; some guy named Carlos Castenada said that fragments of souls are found in the memories of the retriever. Now, I've got no memories of your friend, so I'm going to try and see into all of your memories and drag the pieces back to her body." She held up a book entitled The Impeccable Warrior of Light: Wisdom Teachings for Spiritual Protection. "The fact that the library even owns this book is, in itself, freakin' amazing. It's by some lady named Peace Mother Geeta Sacred Song. Seriously, what the hell?"
She was met with mildly perplexed stares.
"So... You're saying you're gonna look into our noggins and try and bring Fred back using our memories of her?" asked Gunn.
"In theory. I've never tried ANYTHING like this before in my life. I've got no guarantee that it's gonna work or if anything's gonna even happen. I don't want to get your hopes up, but if it works... you guys very likely will have your friend back. Though I don't know what will happen to Miss Illyria..."
"I will be leaving the shell regardless. I have other places I wish to be that I cannot go to in this body. It is restrictive." Illyria sat calmly on the bed, hands folded in her lap.
"Okay then. Lie down, so you don't fall over or something. You four, lemme see your hands." Shannon put one hand on Illyria's as she lay on the bed, and held out the other for the four men to hold, each one grabbing a finger.
"Here's hoping, folks; bring up all your memories of your friend, let me see them."
It was impossible to tell beneath Shannon's sunglasses, but she closed her eyes.
Thoughts and memories that didn't belong to her flooded her mind. Images that she had never seen in her own eyes, though things she was surrounded by daily, rooms and colors and people.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine....
A bloody hand held aloft, seen through the eyes of a bloodthirsty demon, then in the bowels of a cave, a filthy woman wearing thick glasses and rags.
"I've been trying to make an enchilada out of tree bark."
"Bark enchiladas. How's that goin'?"
"There's work to be done."
You make me happy, when skies are grey....
Curled up with Fred in bed, talking quietly, whispering softly and holding each other, enjoying the company and bathing in the solitude.
"I'm being ridiculous, I know. It's just... I don't have a lot of experience in this area. I spent the last five years in a cave."
"Yeah, I know what that's like."
"How could you?"
"Because now, everything's so bright my eyes hurt."
You'll never know dear, how much I love you...
Fred in her element, working nonstop in a laboratory, to help him of all people.
"I'll never get this right!"
"Yes you will! Genius, remember?"
Saddened at failing to help him, sitting on a desk in her office.
"That i'm a handsome devil who brightens the place up?"
"That you're worth saving."
Please don't take my sunshine away...
Lunch breaks chatting with Freddles about her day and his day and just enjoying each other's sparkling company.
"Yeah, we're wallflowers."
"Oh no, no, no, sweetie. You're the young, the beautiful, the ready-to-- oh. Well, here's one problem. You're totally sober! It's Halloween: you should be three sheets to the wind already. Now, try and get into the spirit of things, okay?"
Sunshine... my only sunshine...
Then she was rushing across time and space, deserts and oceans and mountains flying beneath her feet as she found herself at a house in Texas, grabbing onto a frightened fragment and holding on tight.
Then she was in Los Angeles at an old hotel and there was a second fragment, flittering around, frightened. She grabbed that one, too, and flew all across the world, finding them and piecing them together. She didn't look for them, was merely dragged to where they had fallen; in places that Winifred Burkle had loved in life.
"Wesley, why can't I-"
Everything stopped. Wesley faded away, her room faded away, and she was floating quietly through emptiness; a room materialised around her. The repetition had ended and she knew that her death was over. It had been repeating over and over these months, though time held no meaning then. It was as if she had been experiencing a truly horrible case of deja vu.
Again and again and again.
Winifred Burkle floated into a motel room, and lay down inside her body.
For the first time in months, it was Fred who opened her eyes and took a breath. Four voices came in tandem.
"Fred?"