.
When Spike and Buffy entered the restaurant, the others had already commandeered a table in the back, though the younger slayers, still unsure of Spike, were seated at the far end.
Catching the eye of the now conscious Meg, Spike smirked.
Good thing her eyes aren’t stakes or I’d be a big pile of dust before I even sat down.He chuckled ruefully. Here I am about to sit n’ break bread with five slayers… how time does change things, he thought with amusement, even as he unconsciously pulled out a chair for the oldest of them.
Seating himself next to his slayer, he was dragged from his musings when Giles rather obviously cleared his throat.
“Before we eat” Giles began, glancing around the table at the varied occupants
“A thought occurred to me on the way here and as much as I would like to leave it until after, I feel a certain amount of urgency to broach the subject now rather than later” he turned to address Willow, waiting as she reluctantly tore her gaze from Tara.
“Willow you mentioned that Illyria rang you on Spike’s behalf?”
At Willow’s puzzled nod he continued.
“Am I to understand from earlier snippets that Illyria possesses much of the hosts memories?”
Spike and Willow glanced at each, both of them nodding.
Giles smiled in relief.
“Well that would explain how she had your mobile telephone number. I expect that Fred likely memorized it the last time you were in LA. Well now that’s sorted I feel much better. Loose ends, and all that. So shall we order…?”
“Umm Giles. Not as sorted as you thought,” admitted Willow her expression worried.
“Hows that?” he asked his expression mirroring hers.
“I didn’t think of it earlier” she offered with a frown. “what with Spike and the teleporting, then there was the whole Tara thing and Buffy turning up and Kennedy and… and you know all that,” she said, voice faltering at Giles impatient look.
“I mean, I never even gave a thought to how Illyria got my cell number, not until you mentioned it. But Giles, she can’t have used Fred’s memories.” offered Willow before biting her lip nervously.
“Ok yeah I’m sure Fred had my number, but that cell isn’t the one she called me on….”
“Point, Red, get to it” teased Spike.
Giles shot him a thankful look, as Willow, a blush staining her cheeks muttered, “Sorry” before continuing.
“A demon ate the old one two weeks ago,” she admitted brightly.
Spike, Dawn and Xander all snickered, Buffy glared at the three of them.
“It happens people.” she shot indignantly, while carefully avoiding her watchers eye.
Giles, whose eyes had widened with Willow’s statement narrowed at Buffy’s.
“Hmm stolen was it?”
Buffy grinned weakly,
“Yeah… well technically, I just didn’t tell you by what.”
“Right then,” he huffed “well back to the matter at hand.” shooting her a dark look, he turned his attention back to the witch.
“If as you say, Willow, a demon ate your mobile then it seems we have a bit of a conundrum. How then was Illyria able to contact you?”
All eyes turned to Spike.
“Don’t look at me people, I was busy being unconscious. Come to think of it I don’t rightly remember speaking to Illyria at all, let alone askin' her to give you a bell. Vaguely remember talking to Red here but that was after Illyria called her.”
He shrugged, a thoughtful expression settling on his features even as he turned his attention to the watcher.
“So Rupes looks like we got a bit of a mystery on our hands, yeah?”
“Hmm” Giles looked thoughtful. “Well as I suspect Illyria is the one with the answers, and as she is not here at the moment I suggest we eat first and sort the rest out when we go back to the hotel.”
The Hellmouth veterans took him at his word, all of them flipping open menus and chattering amongst themselves. The new slayers shot worried looks at each other before following suite.
His attention turning again to Willow, Giles couldn’t help his fond smile as he took in the glow of peace that surrounded the redhead.
Distracted from his worries for the moment he took the time to appreciate their changed circumstance.
Less than a week ago Willow had been traveling comfortably along life’s road, seemingly content with her work with the new council and her relationship with Kennedy.
It was only seeing her reunited with Tara that Giles realized just how much Sunnydale and the events of the last few years had burdened the young witch.
Sitting at the table with Tara and her friends it was as if the clock had been turned back and they were in the presence of a younger more carefree Willow.
His attention drifting to Spike and Buffy he noted a similar change in that of his slayer. Gone was the constant strained and controlled look that she adopted whenever in company, replaced with a certain shyness and barely concealed joy that he had not seen in years.
The vampire too looked happier than Giles could ever recall seeing him, his eyes barely straying from the slayer’s face as she talked animatedly with her sister.
Even Xander seemed somehow lighter, as though with the reforming of old circles the burden of guilt he felt at the death of his beloved Anya had lessened to some degree.
Giles was also interested to note that Faith seemed to be giving the young man a level of attention that if he was any judge seemed a touch more than just friendly.
The young slayer Meg still looked sullen, the other two withdrawn, none of them seemed willing to engage with the others.
But it was Meg that his concerns were focused on. He didn’t like the dark looks she kept throwing at the newly healed vampire or his slayer.
He would need to talk with all of them before the night was out.
And then of course there was Kennedy? What on earth was he going to do about the girl? She was obviously out of control.
Her earlier attack on Tara though not excusable was certainly understandable; it was her attitude towards Spike and the whole LA situation that had him stymied. He could see no reason for her continuing hate of the vampire, and her obvious jealousy of Buffy was a matter that he would have to consider seriously.
Of course even back in Sunnydale the girl had been stronger willed and more confrontational that the other potentials, with the possible exception of Rona.
However, Spike had proved his worth there at the end so he failed to see why the girl hated him still. Bloody stupid girl acted like she had been personally wronged by his return, it was just as well that Willow’s spell would hold her for the next hour or so, it would give him time to make some decisions concerning her.
In and attempt to shake of his re encroaching worries and introspection, Giles focused his attention on the menu and the growling of his stomach.
**********************
Angel was sitting in his office trying to decide what his future was going to look like when the sound of laughter and several different girlish voices, all talking at once, alerted him to the fact that Buffy and the others were back.
He scowled, thinking of her earlier words before deciding that he had better go and see just how long they planned to be hanging around his hotel.
His already foul mood did not improve when one of the first things he noted was the way Buffy was clutching Spike’s hand.
Studying them from the doorway of his office, he could not help thinking of Buffy’s cookie speech. Baking indeed? Looked more like she was giving up the cookie dough raw. The way she was looking at Spike it would not surprise him.
And Spike? The bain of his existence, the biggest pain in the ass he had ever had the displeasure to meet, was looking like the cat that ate a whole flock of canary shaped cookies.
He was so locked in brood mode that, moments later, he nearly didn’t notice Illyria’s return through the kitchen entrance.
She paused in the kitchen doorway seeming to hesitate at the sight of the slayers and Scoobies before skirting the crowd to head upstairs.
Angel frowned, distracted from his sour grapes by her very un-Illyria like behaviour.
He watched as she paused at the top of the stairs, confusion clouding his eyes as she turned to study the group below with an expression on Fred’s stolen features that was very out of place on the God Kings.
She looked distraught, as if she was remembering something that gave her pain. Her hands, normally as rigid as her posture were clasped together and clutched close to her chest. That, with her earlier furtive entry had alarm bells ringing for the souled vampire. At the moment despite her coloring and dress she looked very like the Fred he remembered bringing back from Pylea.
Illyria, watching from the balcony, frowned.
She was not used to her presence being ignored. She was even less used to the strange feelings that she was currently experiencing.
Her chest felt tight, her breath coming in shallow pants. The sound of the laughter triggering emotions that she was not equipped to deal with.
The humans, who should have, by right, bowed before her quailing in fear for their miserable lives, acted as though she was of no consequence.
Illyria found herself strangely lost, the emotion she failed to recognize as loneliness washing over her.
Her vision blurred as the memory of Wesley’s face swam before her eyes.
Remembering that Wesley had ceased to exist, the deep ache in her chest intensified. How was she to endure this world without him to guide her? She had no understanding of these creatures, no conception of her purpose now that she was so diminished.
Her world and her armies were gone, her form altered, mirroring those for which she had only contempt. She wallowed now in emotions that felt both alien and repugnant. Who was left to guide her, to serve her, now that her kingdom was no more?
Even her pet no longer feared or revered her. He who should bow to her, thankful that she had deigned to notice one so low; he too had turned his back on her for the love of a mortal.
Unknowing, tears ran down the Gods cheeks, remnants of Fred’s emotions pushing to the surface.
She, Illyria, had ruled for millennia, her power unchallenged and unchecked. She had known no joy, nor pity. What was rage or fear to a God? Such emotions as these were beyond her comprehension.
The lives of those she ruled of no consequence, she was A GOD, her rights and desires unchallenged. She lived only to command, and all that failed to do her will perished without thought. If she wished it, it was no more than her right.
How was she to make her way in this alien land… in this puny shell, fettered to this world, trapped within a form she had not asked for?
For time out of memory, she had slept in the Deeper Well, waiting for the day when she would be reborn to her former glory. Now that promise was dust, as was her world. They had stripped her of her power, taken her destiny.
Only Wesley had kept her from madness. He had challenged her, intrigued her with his defiance and loathing. His anger over the death of the shell’s former owner at odds with his need to understand the creature that had caused that death.
Illyria unknowingly, when she had offered to lie to him, had opened up something deep inside of herself.
Emotions, something she had never known, pouring through the doorway until she had felt like she was drowning in them.
The half-breed named it grief: this strange churning she felt at Wesley’s end. It was to be only the first.
Her need to restore the vampire, fueled by the knowledge that Wesley would want it, served no one. She was Illyria, what care had she for the desires of a dead human.
Why did this salt tinged liquid flow from her eyes? What purpose could feeling bring?
She had seen the depth of emotion in Wesley’s eyes when he thought she was not observing him. Even if she did not understand his pain, she was well able to recognize the emotion in others. Why would any being wish to feel such emotion? It brought only despair and confusion.
Illyria’s mind boiled with her confusion, lost in growing helplessness, a single dark eye studied the former God King.
The expression on her face, for Xander, evoked the memory of another demon that like Illyria had found herself trapped in a form and existence that was beyond her conception or control.
He watched the different emotions flit across her face, thinking about Anya, remembering how hard it was for her when she had first become human.
Seeing the tears on her cheeks Xander extracted himself from the group and moved up the stairs.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the long long delay in the updates, RL got busy and I got distracted by it. LOL
Now back to what's really important!
Now back to what's really important!