Angel sat. Drogyn was pacing nervously, for some reason, as if he knew something bad was coming, which, technically, was true. Spike sat, also, but away from Angel. The pilot was away from all of them, trying to examine the bite on his neck. It really wasn't bad, not at all, by any means, and he was far away from dying or truly being hurt. In reality, he had probably overreacted to the bite, most likely because he'd never been bitten before.
Angel was thinking about a lot of things. On the top of that list was the fact that so many people were dying this instant. He was thinking about anybody he could've hurt or harmed because of Illyria. Connor, he had to hope he was okay. And Nina, she was a good person, and Angel didn't want her to get hurt. He didn't want anybody to get hurt. Yet, he chose this path to kill so many people in order to save Fred. He hoped Fred was happy right now, spending time with Wes or with anyone she cared about, treasuring the fact that she was alive. Because tomorrow, it might be a different story. The moment she found out what he'd done…
Fred would hate him, surely. No, not hate him, maybe, but she would be extremely mad. She wouldn't understand. She may even do something drastic because she'd hate the fact that so many people died for her.
Drogyn had never done this spell before. It was spoken of, but never truly done, so Angel had no idea how much damage Illyria could do. She'd kill everyone between Fred and the Deeper Well, but would she just jump in and out of people in a straight line to the Deeper Well, or would she literally go everywhere in the world between Fred and the Deeper Well? Angel hoped the latter wasn't what was happening. It wasn't really up to him, though.
The repercussions would be terrible. The world—the part of the world that wasn't killed—wouldn't know how to react. How didn't Angel know that the other part of the world would be frightened and act out? What if everything went crazy and before he knew it everyone would be dead.
It'd be his fault, if everyone died. His fault. Not Fred's, not even Illyria's, and not even Spike, who just stood by as Angel made the decision to murder so many people.
Spike was a problem. He was acting very strange. What he'd done to the pilot—even if it wasn't that bad—wasn't a positive in the situation. He was a vampire and normally that would be his nature, but Spike wasn't just a normal vampire anymore. He had a soul, like Angel. Why wasn't Spike more like him?
Angel chuckled. Yeah, because that's what I'd want; Spike to be more like me.
Then again, that would solve a few problems, wouldn't it? It would also cause a few problems. There really was no win-win situation with Spike. Even if Spike left Angel and L.A., there would be no upside because Spike would go and be with Buffy. If Buffy would want to be with Spike, Angel wasn't sure. He didn't know anything for sure, though. What if she did?
Okay, this wasn't the right time for this. People were dying and he was what, sitting here worried about his ex-girlfriend? She was always more than just an ex-girlfriend, he had to admit, but that didn't mean he should focus on her at the moment.
Spike got up and walked over towards Angel. Angel tried to look anywhere but in his direction, pretending he didn't notice and hoping Spike would go away.
Instead, Spike stopped right in front of Angel. Angel stood up, because he felt weird sitting down when Spike was towering over him. As he was getting up, he noticed Spike was shuffling nervously from one foot to the other. What was going on with him? Why was he acting so weird?
"I just wanted to apologize," Spike groaned. "For whatever the hell it's worth. I know you're mad, and you shouldn't be. I mean, you shouldn't be mad at me right now because we're really all we've got here, mate, in this well. We made a decision and we're both payin' for it."
"We both made a decision?" Angel smiled a little. "No, Spike, I made the decision. You're just…here."
"Now why would you say that?" Spike asked, taking a step back. "I'm in this as much as you are. If you said no to Drogyn, do you think I would've just let that happen and walk away? No. I care about Fred. I wanted to save her."
"You care about nothing except your precious Buffy," Angel said starkly. It was uncalled for, and he knew it. Spike cared about things. Plus it wasn't just "his" precious Buffy, Angel had loved her too. Angel just wasn't sure how to act right now.
"Oh, please!" Spike shouted. "You don't think I care that so many people are out there dying right now? Because of what you did, because of what we did?"
"Well, do you?"
"Of course I do. I have a soul too, you know. I've done bad things, just like you have. And you still don't think I feel bad for them."
"You don't seek redemption for anything you did. You barely act any differently. Why should I believe that you feel bad, especially when you do things like drink from our pilot?"
Spike rolled his eyes melodramatically. "You're right."
Angel gaped. Did he hear him right? "What?"
Spike shook his head. "Angel, I feel bad. All these people dying—it weighs on my soul, too. Then the pilot—the bloody pilot—I was acting out. Can you blame me, really? I'm not the same as you. I don't react to situations the same as you. I'm different. I needed…something to distract me, even if it was just for a little while."
Angel looked down at the ground awkwardly. Spike was being really honest, for some reason. "So that's it? You were having a tantrum? Acting out?"
He shrugged. "Well, yeah, I guess. I was hungry, but I could have waited. It would have been no big deal."
"I'm sorry, now. I shouldn't have overreacted. It wasn't your fault. I get it, I really do. You're not the same. In all the time we've spent together this last year—and man, has it been a lot of time—I've realized you've changed. I mostly notice it with small things. But you are different, and I should know that. I don't care that you fed off the pilot. It's no big deal, really."
"Good. Don't worry; I'll keep my violent acts under control from now on. So just to clarify, we're okay?"
"As okay as we normally are."
Spike paused. "So we're not okay?"
Angel laughed just a little bit, and so did Spike. It was nice; laughing in a time like this. It seemed almost foreign. Plus, it was really bizarre to share a laugh with Spike.
"When do you think she'll get here?" Angel asked, changing the mood to very dark.
"I don't know. Within twenty-four hours that ponce said, right? So it could be any minute or in another twelve hours."
"I want to get home. I want to check on Fred."
"So do I, mate," Spike agreed. "So do I."
Harmony had left for the night, but Lorne was still there. So was Gunn, but he was down in the lab watching over Knox. Lorne decided to go check on him. He'd had a long day, as they all had, and Lorne was sure they could find someone else to watch over Knox while Gunn went home and caught some sleep.
He walked by the lab and saw Gunn was sitting down outside the door. He held his head in his hands and he seemed tired. Lorne was concerned.
"Gunn? Are you awake?"
Gunn's head snapped up and he looked at Lorne. "Oh, Lorne, hey. What-what are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd come release you from your watching duties. Go home, Gunn, get some sleep. Someone else can watch over Knox and make sure he doesn't go anywhere."
"Yeah, I should go home," Gunn agreed, although he wasn't really sure he should. Knox was in there. He was hurt just a little now, and how would others react to that? How would Angel react to that? Would they care? Knox was evil and he tried to kill Fred. Surely they'd understand why he'd hurt Knox just a little.
He stood up and, with Lorne by his side, started to walk away, leaving Knox alone in the lab with almost no possibility of escaping. Once they got to an area with more people walking around, Gunn sent someone down to watch over Knox. Him and Lorne also then made their way to the security floor, and told one of the guards who watched the cameras in the lab that if Knox were to escape somehow, someway, that he should call Gunn immediately. At first the guard didn't agree, didn't care, but when Gunn slipped him some extra cash the guard suddenly didn't seem to mind.
Then, both Gunn and Lorne went their separate ways and went home. Everyone would definitely find out tomorrow what Gunn did to Knox. It wasn't much, but still Gunn felt a little guilty. He shouldn't have done anything to Knox. Should he have?
While driving a short way home, Gunn had to stop in the middle of the road when he saw there was a dead body lying there. Concern flooded up into his chest. Something was happening. Something. Or maybe it was just a freak accident. A hit and run?
Gunn decided to look into it tomorrow. He was exhausted, and at home, in his bed, seemed to be the place he should be at that moment.
Connor collapsed inside an alleyway he had never seen before. His legs were tired of moving, though, and tiredness washed over him. As he fell to the ground, his eyes closed and he was asleep. As he slept, he had immaculate dreams about Tracy and a blue woman who followed him around and spoke to him in a shaky whisper. It was spooky. And at the same time, slightly comforting.
Illyria was almost done. She could feel it. It was all almost over. She had killed so many people, and it had been delightful, but it was almost over and soon she would be back inside her sarcophagus. She would not allow that. She had to start fighting!
Unfortunately, there was nothing Illyria could do to fight it. The spell was secure, and she would be trapped inside a sarcophagus again.
She had made her way through the left half of Africa, and she was now going through Spain and France, and after that it would be over. Cotswolds, England would be right there. Illyria was not done yet. She wanted, needed, more to die. More had to die. It was not up to her.
With Cotswolds being eight hours ahead of L.A., morning had come for Angel and Spike in the Deeper Well, albeit they didn't really know it because they were in the Deeper Well. They were all being calm and standing/sitting around, waiting, when suddenly it happened.
Drogyn had some kind of reaction. He gasped and took many steps backwards. "She's near!" he yelled.
Even though they were in the safe zone, Angel, Spike, Drogyn, and the pilot still backed up farther, just to be safe. They watched the sarcophagus, waiting for something to happen.
It was at least an hour before finally, after so long, Illyria arrived at the Deeper Well, where she would luckily be held forever and never escape again. Every one of them saw Illyria enter. She still looked like a blue ball of electricity, but she slowed down almost to a halt. She was desperately fighting what was going on, what was happening. The force still brought her to the sarcophagus, though, unwillingly.
The ball that was Illyria seemed to darken in color as she started flying left and right erratically. She was trying to fight this. There was no fighting what was about to happen to her because the spell gave her no choice but be trapped inside. She was brought down to the sarcophagus and seemed to jump right in. It was as simple as that. One moment she was floating towards the sarcophagus, and the next she was just inside of it. Of course, they didn't hear Illyria's silent screams and shouts and they didn't feel the empty feeling she felt when she was shoved into the sarcophagus.
The air seemed to change. It got warmer and many feelings came up to Angel. It was done. So many people were lying dead, right now. But Illyria was trapped again. She would no longer do any harm to the world.
Drogyn sighed. "It worked."
"Damn right it did," Spike commented.
Angel smiled, despite himself. They won. They lost, but they won. In a way, this was a victory, wasn't it? Why shouldn't he be kind of happy? If an Old One had arrived, the world would be like Hell right now. So, technically, Angel did the right thing.
Even if he didn't, he had to live with the decision anyway.
He was about to say something, when suddenly something rang in his pocket. At first he was alarmed, not sure what was going on. Then, he realized it was his phone. He'd forgotten it was there. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID. It wasn't a number he recognized. He wasn't going to answer it, but it might've been Wolfram & Hart or someone who worked there, so he decided he better answer it.
"There's cell reception in here?" Spike asked almost jokingly.
"Hello, this is Angel."
Spike, Drogyn, and the pilot all turned and looked at him like he was insane. Who would answer a phone call in a time like this? Spike thought they should be celebrating, jumping up and down and cheering because of this. They got rid of a major threat to the world! In the process they killed a lot of people. Spike didn't like the sound to that. It was too late for second guesses.
"Angel?" a distinct voice that Angel recognized immediately said on the other end. Angel could never forget that voice. In his mind he pictured the blond slayer with the name of Buffy. "What is going on?"
"E-excuse me?"
"Don't play dumb, you've had to have heard. The world… Angel, a giant chunk of the world has died."
Angel didn't know how to respond. He shut his eyes.
"Angel?" Buffy said again. Finally, she heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry for calling like this, so angry sounding. This is a real emergency, though. I wish I could've called you on different circumstances. Do you know the damage that's been done?"
"No," Angel let out a wobbly whisper.
"Well, most of the United States is gone. Canada's been wiped out, Mexico has, and so has South America. I had people there. So many Slayers and Watchers." Buffy had to pause to contain the emotion in her voice. "Willow was there."
"What?! Oh my God, is she-"
"She's fine," Buffy said quietly, thankfully. "This epidemic—or at least that's what they're calling it—happened through half of Africa, too. Xander is in Africa. Don't worry; he wasn't in the half that got hit. We were so worried about him, though. And it took out a little bit of England. Giles and Faith are in London, so they were safe for the most part. Luckily Dawn and I are in Rome, where this thing didn't reach."
"Look, I'm so sorry. What do you mean the epidemic?"
"On the news, they're calling it an epidemic, like it's a disease. A disease that had no signs of being all…disease-e until it just hit them, like that." Angel couldn't see, but Buffy snapped her fingers to emphasize the point. "Then they all died. Angel, the reason I'm calling… We both know it's not some disease. Something supernatural is going on here. And remember when I said part of the United States was okay? The only part that is okay is some of California, L.A. specifically. That's why I had to call you, and I thought you'd know what was going on."
"Angel, what's going on?" Spike finally asked. "Who the bloody hell are you talking to right now?"
Spike had spoken quite loudly, loud enough for Buffy to hear who was talking.
"Was that…? No. Angel, was that Spike?"
"Look, Buffy, some things have been happening."
Spike's face dropped. "Buffy?" he whispered.
"Angel…okay, I can't handle this anymore." Buffy was definitely agitated. "First, I hear you've taken over Wolfram & Hart. If that's not a sign you're evil again, then I don't know what is."
"It's not-"
"I don't care, no offense, Angel. And now, secondly, so many people are dying and you don't seem to care."
"I care."
"A part of California is safe, though, and I found that very interesting. Something's going on there. And it's killing my Slayers and Watchers. It's killing thousands of innocent people! How could you let that happen?"
"Well, if you listened instead of accused me all of a sudden, maybe you'd understand!" Angel snapped.
For a minute, Buffy didn't speak.
Then, finally: "Angel, I have plenty of Slayers ready to come stake you because of what's going on. They think it's your fault. They think you're Angelus. And I have to say, I have no reason not to believe those claims."
"Please, I'm not Angelus. All you need to know, Buffy, is that it's over."
"It's over? There will be no more deaths?"
"Yes."
"Angel, I want to come to L.A. I want to come and see what's going on there, to see if I can help you in any way. But everyone's going crazy over here. I have to step up in my leader role."
"You sound like you've become a good leader," Angel complimented and then winced. "Not that you weren't before."
"Thanks. What I'm trying to say is I can't leave Rome now, not yet. Maybe soon. But not yet."
"Buffy, you coming to L.A. is not really necessary. I swear to you, it's under control. Many have died. I know that. But there won't be any more deaths."
"How will you deal with all of that alone? The remaining people in California will probably go crazy."
Angel looked at Spike, who was standing there, staring at Angel patiently. He thought about Wes, Gunn, Fred, and Lorne waiting for him back home. He thought of all their faces and how much he loved each and every single one of them.
"I'm not alone," he assured Buffy.
There were a few moments of awkward silence.
"Spike's alive?" Buffy finally asked.
"Yeah," Angel stated simply, unsure if there was anything else he could say to her.
"Why hasn't he made contact with us?"
"He wasn't sure how to," Angel spoke honestly. "If you want to talk to him-"
"No. No, I won't talk to him. Not yet. I need to wrap my mind around this. How is he even alive?"
"That's kind of a complicated story."
"Oh well. Angel, I've got to go. I'll call you sometime soon, though. I promise. We'll discuss this more. I…I'm sorry."
"Me too," Angel said.
Buffy was gone. She had hung up. Because of Angel's sensitive vampire hearing, in the background near the end of their conversation, some shouting was going on, and it sounded like a fight, which was probably why Buffy rushed off so quickly. She had to take care of things over there, in Rome. And Angel had to take care of things back home, in L.A.
She had cared, though. She cared enough about what was going on to call, like she should. What the world just went through was a really big ordeal.
"How was she?" Spike inquired after a minute of silence.
"She sounded okay," Angel said. "She sounded really angry, actually."
"Understandable."
"She'll call again at a more convenient time."
"Good," Spike nodded.
"We should really get going. It's safe to leave now." Angel glanced at the pilot.
"I'll get the plane ready," he said and hurried off.
Silently, Angel walked over to the sarcophagus that now held Illyria. It was hard to believe such a dangerous creature was in here. It was almost scary to be near it. This was the thing that had murdered so many people. Illyria and Angel, they were the ones. It was both their faults that so many people died, or at least in Angel's eyes that was how it was.
"Goodbye Illyria," Angel said with no sincerity once so ever and he walked past the sarcophagus, glad that thing would be out of his life for good.
Hours later, the sun was starting to rise in L.A. It shined in the window right on Wes's face and woke him up with a startle. The first thing he noticed was that his arms were empty. Fred was there before, and now she was gone. Panic overwhelmed Wes. Where was Fred? Was she okay? Was she still here? Did Illyria somehow come back and take her?
Wes jumped out of the bed and made his way into the living room. When he didn't see her right away, he could feel tears coming because she was gone and could be in danger and oh, God, what if she was hurt and what if, what if, what if-
There she was. She was lying on the couch. The TV was turned off because sometime during the night Fred had turned it off without really knowing it.
Wes looked over the couch and saw she was still asleep. Even asleep, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Her hair was sprawled all over, pointing in all different directions. Her mouth was open just a tiny bit and moving up and down just a little in the most adorable way possible. He smiled at the sight of her.
Then he realized he was being a bit strange, standing over her and watching her. He was just simply mesmerized by the sight of her.
Before he could move, her eyes slowly started to open and she saw him. She groaned and then started to stretch. "Well there's Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," she said tiredly, but with a smile.
Wes moved around the couch so he knelt on the floor on front of her. He pushed some extra hair out of her face so he could see her more clearly and she could see him. "And there's Winifred Burkle, a most beautiful sight to see."
Fred giggled. "Please, I probably look like a mess. I haven't changed since yesterday and my hair's a mess."
"I still think you're perfect."
Fred looked Wesley in the eye. "Do you really?"
"Yes," Wes said without having to think.
He leaned in to kiss her but she stopped him. When he gave her a confused look she smiled. "I have morning breath. Kissing will have to wait."
Wes grinned. "Fine. Then I'll go make us some coffee." He made his way into the kitchen and began searching. Finally, he found what he was looking for and started to make the coffee.
"I'm gonna jump in the shower while you make coffee in my apartment," Fred said, standing up after lying on the couch.
"Oh," Wes gasped. "I'm sorry; I guess I'm being rude. I should leave."
"No, no, I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that it's…ironic that you'd be here making coffee, for some reason." She grimaced. "I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm gonna go take a shower."
"There's no need to rush," Wes tried to tell her.
"Wes, if I don't get ready now we'll be late for work."
He took a few steps toward Fred, a look of alarm on his face. "Fred, you went through something very traumatizing yesterday. I'm sure you'd be fine to take a few days off work."
"No," she fought. "I'm not going to take time off work. I need to go back and show everyone that I'm okay and that I can function just fine."
"We already know-"
"Wesley, don't try to change my mind about this. I'm going to work today. I need to get a sense of normalcy back."
Wes raised an eyebrow. "Normalcy at our work place?"
"Well, you know what I mean. Now I'll go jump in the shower."
He watched her walk away and then went back to finish making the coffee. He heard the shower in her room turn on. He figured she was just getting in when she walked out, still clothed the same and clearly without having taken a shower. She started searching around the couch for something.
"What are you looking for?" he asked, stepping up to the couch next to her.
"TV remote. There was some story last night about people dying. I think we should check it out."
"Fred," Wesley said sternly, causing Fred to look at him. "Go take your shower. I'm sure if there's some kind of emergency we'll hear about it at work."
This time, before she could stop him, he kissed her. It was a soft, warm kiss, but when they pulled apart they both found themselves gasping for air.
"Still perfect," Wes whispered so close to her.
She knew he was right about hearing an emergency at work. Still, she couldn't help but feel like she was missing something she had overlooked. After a few seconds, Fred walked away, back into her room and into the bathroom and got in the shower.
Connor woke up. He knew within the second he was awake. Angel was on his way back to L.A. The voice in his head was getting very anxious, very excited.
"What are you?" Connor requested out loud.
I am the god's voice. She does not know I am a part of you. We will fulfill her duty.
"What god?"
The Old One known as Illyria; the only god in the world that matters.
Connor felt himself agreeing, even though agreeing to this was that last thing in the world he wanted to do. "I serve Illyria," he spoke without wanting to.
To be continued…