AN: This is a story of Wesley and Papa Smurf (you’ll understand the reference later). My mother and I were distraught over the callousness of Wes’ death, and we decided to change a few things. One: he never meant to die, therefore didn’t. Two: Ilyria didn’t kill Fred so much as Fred finally became Ilyria. Three: Fred’s parents knew and expected it to happen. Four: Altyron is a bad ass.

The Visit

Hyperion Hotel
One Week after the Battle

“Dammit man! There are just too many people in his hotel, and I never thought I’d hear myself say anything resembling that.” Gunn walked across the lobby of the hotel noticing the evidence indicative of the number of people that still remained. Angel grinned at him from behind the desk.

"Gunn, man. At least they’re friendly. And not brain washed. Oh, yeah, and not dinner. Right?” Angel was remembering the sheer volume of people that flocked to see Jasmine.

"I guess that’s true, man. Though a guy could use some quiet time, you know. All those little Slayers out in the court yard training? Jees, you’d think Buffy would at least let them sleep in past, oh I don’t know, 5:30 in the damn morning. I ain’t had a good morning’s rest since they got here.” Gunn flopped down on the couch across from the desk, as Angel nodded.

"I don't mind it so much. But then, I’m up anyway. And believe me when I say it isn’t Buffy. She could sleep through an apocalypse if it weren’t her sacred duty to stop it. I think it actually may be Kennedy. She’s a tough one.”

“Yeah? Well, someone needs to tell that girl about decent morning hours. ‘Specially when she’s under someone else’s hospitality.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that.” Buffy spoke up from behind Charles. “Don’t know how much good it’ll do.” She walked across the lobby to join the two men. “Mornin’ guys. Sleep well, Charles? Brood well Angel?” She grinned at them both.

“What? I wasn’t brooding. Don’t do that anymore.” Angel jumped to defend himself, then began again grumbling, “not much anyway. I can find some thing to smile about occasionally.” At both of their skeptical looks, he said, “Shut up.” Buffy and Gunn both broke into laughter.

“God, Angel you are still so much fun to tease! I missed that.” Buffy walked over to hug him, shocking him into a standstill. “Hell, I missed everything about you, too, Dead Boy.” She said, using Xander’s not so friendly nickname. She released him looking around the deserted lobby. “So. Where is everybody? It looks pretty deserted right now, and I know that can’t be possible with the number of people we have here.”

Angel nodded, looking just a little put out at the company. “Well. Giles, I think is still sleeping. He was out late last night with Wes- I mean Altyron - finding the supplies for Ilyria’s ritual. Xander is outside in the garden. Don’t know why, but he seems to spend most of his time there. And Andrew is in the kitchen.” Angel looked defeated. “Cooking. I think he may even be baking. What is up with that?” Only by sheer force of will did he not shudder.

“And the Slayerettes are all outside training with Kennedy. Where they have been since 5:30 the morning. Did I fail to mention that they started at 5:30 am? I think I missed that.” Gunn stated.

“No Charles, I think we got it the first time.” Buffy grinned at him. “And I will say something to Kennedy about it. I promise. And Yea at Andrew making with the breakfast munchies. Comin with, Charles?”

“Thanks, Buff.” He stood up and began moving toward the kitchen. “Now, I am going to go get some breakfast. It may be early, but a man’s gotta eat, ya know.”

“Yeah, you two go ahead. I’m not much for the eating right now, later though.” Angel started.

“Yeah, big guy. We know, drink your blood and brood. Oops, I mean meditate.” Gunn smiled to let him know he was teasing. “Like she said, Angel. You are too easy to tease.” He turned back to Buffy. “Come on, let’s eat. That little Andrew is a damn good cook. I’m bettin on pancakes.”

Angel watched them leave, the smile slipping slowly from his features. The past week loomed over him, darkening his mind and heart. He knew Wesley was back. His brain was quite capable of making that connection. But something still bothered him. There was no way that his Wes would consider surrendering himself in order to let some ancient godlike being - this he thought with considerable sarcasm - share his body. No way. If there was one consistent trait that he could associate with Wes, it was his absolute unwillingness to compromise himself. It’s what led to his nearly dying the year before. Why he took Connor, why he saved Angel from the depths of the Pacific, why he fed his own blood to the ravaged vampire. This new situation made no sense to Angel, even though he’d had a week to process - ok, brood - about it. He walked to his office and sat behind the desk. Lost in thought, he failed to notice Wes leaning against the door frame.

Wes observed Angel, noting the stillness in the vampire’s frame; a dead giveaway as to the thoughts swirling through his brain. He couldn’t help but feel frustrated at Angel’s lack of acceptance of what he considered a beneficial relationship. He was alive, despite all occurrences that should have led to the contrary, and he was part of something bigger than himself. A place he had always wanted to be, but never could quite manage successfully. Watcher’s Council was a bust, and his tenure as head of Angel Investigations was perhaps one of the most disastrous endeavors he’s attempted.

But here was Angel, silently bemoaning the fact that he was alive. It finally served to piss Wesley off.

“Still brooding, Angel?” Wes spoke softly so as not to startle the quiet vampire. Angel looked up into blue eyes he knew so well.

“Hey Wes. No. I wasn’t brooding. Just remembering. You.” His stilted speech informed Wes of the lie.

“Why remember me? I’m right here.” The question hung in the air, Angel taking his time to answer.

He seemed to make a decision and took an unneeded, but fortifying breath. “Honestly Wes? I can’t quite wrap my head around you still being here. I mean, you died. Vail killed you. I know this, yet here you are. And everything I know, knew about you suggests that you would never allow this to happen to you. Jesus, Wes, you kidnapped my son! Before you would allow me to kill him - unknowingly, I might add - you took him from me. You knew what that would do to me, to us. But you knew what my feeding off of him would do to me, and you took the lesser evil. You never compromise yourself, Wes. And this?” He motioned at Wes with a wave of his hand. “This is a damn big compromise, Wesley. And I just don’t get it.” He looked fully at Wes, hard dark eyes meeting compassionate blue ones. “It just isn’t you.”

Wes smiled. “Well, viewed from that perspective, I can see how you would feel the way you do. But look at it from mine. I knew we - you - were going to lose. I couldn’t let that happen.” He moved into the office further. “I took Connor not to keep him safe - well there was some of that, but that wasn’t my main reason. I did it for you. The prophecy - yes I know now it was fake, but at the time? All I knew, no matter how I sought any other meaning, was ‘the father will kill the son.’ I knew that would destroy you. I also know that you are the underpinning of this whole thing. Without you, we would all flounder. Especially me.” He smiled slightly, almost shyly. “I don’t do the things I do because I know I’m right. The reason I don’t compromise is not because of some grand belief in my own self-actualization. I do it for you. I’d do anything for you. Even this. Especially this. It was the only way you - we - could win.”

Angel stared at him, his face inscrutable. Dark unblinking eyes sat stony above lips set in a thin line of contemplation. Finally, he turned away from Wes, his eyes drifting closed, as though arriving at an understanding. Wes saw the crack in the armor and advanced.

He took a seat on one of the chairs in front of Angel’s desk. “Please tell me you understand this now. That you understand this choice, the reasons for it?” He paused. “That you understand me, Angel.”

“Yeah.” The whispered word floated to Wes’ ears. “I think I get it Wes. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

“Good.” Wes smiled broadly at him. “Can I get you to help Giles and myself with Ilyria’s ritual, then?”

“You know I’m no good at the magic stuff, Wes. That’s what I had you for. You know, I ‘m just the, umm, the muscle, ya know?” Angel looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Well, you’ve your strong points, other than being the muscle Angel. Besides, I imagined that was Gunn’s forte?”

“What? Are ya trying to take away my usefulness here, or what, Wes? I said I was the muscle and that is that. I am the resident Vampire, am I not?”

“Let me guess, we’re going to forget for the moment that there are several Vampire Slayers in the hotel, now are we? Because, that would put a damper on your claim to be the muscle, you know.”

Angel growled. “Shut up, Wes.” Then he gave his best impersonation of a grin, meeting Wes’ eyes with a smirk. “Yeah, to answer your question, I’ll help you with the ritual. Just as long as it doesn’t involve blood.”

“That is what I love about you Angel. Your complete unqualified willingness to help.” Again, the growl, followed closely by Wesley’s unbridled laughter.

Outside the Hyperion, Roger and Trish Burkle stood, anxious about going in. They looked to each other with slightly guilty faces. At the look on his wife’s face, Roger stated, “Well, hon, this is the place. What do you think they’re gonna say, us being here again? I mean, we should have told them the last time, ya know. It was getting to be about time then.”

Trish shrugged. “Roger, I don’t know. Fred seemed so different last time we were here. I mean, remember her at the office. You said I shouldn’t embarrass her in front of her employees and that she was growing up.” She sighed as she turned again towards the door. “I think something happened to our Fred, Roger. Something bad.”

“Well. Let’s just see if we can’t fix that, ok?”

They opened the door and stepped inside. Hearing the laughter coming from Angel’s office, they moved in that direction. The sight of Angel looking disgruntled and Was laughing out loud brought a smile to their faces.

“Wes, what have you done to this nice fella, here, huh?” Roger asked the question, startling both creatures out of their own thoughts.

“Ahh, Roger. Trish” Wes stood and greeted them sedately. “Good to see you again.” Then he looked askance at them. “Wait. How did you know to come here, and not to Wolfram and Hart offices?”

“Well,” Trish answered him. “We started there, but the offices weren’t there. Well, I mean, there was a building, or what was once a building, but mostly just ruins now, so we though y’all might have come back to the hotel. Good guess eh?”

“Yes, quite.”

“Mr. And Mrs. Burkle.” Angel stood finally and greeted them. “It is really good to see you all again, but this really isn’t a good time.” Angel walked around the front of the desk to perch against it. “Fred is... that is... something happened...and Fred...” He floundered, not knowing how to say what needed to be said.

“Something has happened to Fred.” Roger made this statement. “Something that has changed her, right? She’s not herself anymore.” At Wes and Angel’s sad looks, Roger nodded. “We know.”

Trish looked to her husband. “I told you we were late last time. But you said, no, the ritual could wait, and that Hawaii wouldn’t. Fat lot of good you are Roger.”

Wes and Angel both perked up, focused intently on the Burkles. “Late?” “Ritual?” they spoke at the same time, drowning each other out.

Roger forestalled them with a raised hand. “Where is Ilyria?”

Angel and Wes gaped.

“Oh for pete’s sake, boys. Close your mouths, you’re catching flies!” The two men promptly closed their mouths. Trish looked pleased. “Now, tell us where Ilyria is, so we can talk to Fred.”

Wes started to look rather angry, and closed off, so Angel answered. “She’s somewhere in the hotel. We can never keep track of her. She’s always off investigating things. Kinda creepy, actually.”

Roger nodded. “We’ll find her then, or she’ll find us eventually.” He turned to look at Wes. “Now, Wes, don’t get all angry. We didn’t explain things because we didn’t know how you all would react. We thought things were fine the last time we were in L.A. Fred seemed so normal. A bit off, but then she was head of the science lab at a prestigious law firm. We figured it was just growing up and getting responsibilities. We didn’t know what had happened.” He stepped over to reassure Wes. “I am absolutely positive that you did everything you could to save Fred. Absolutely everything Wes. But you needn’t have worried.”

“We were told that Fred was consumed in the resurrection. That she - her soul - no longer existed.” Wes finally looked up to Roger. “Now? I know this isn’t quite the truth, however - And I’ll explain it to you later Angel.” Wes grinned at Angels ferocious expression. “Without the ritual, Ilyria over took Fred. She isn’t there, not yet, so, how in the world do you think you’re going to be able to talk to her?”

“Oh.” Roger nodded thoughfully. “I see now how you could be so upset.” He smiled a little. “Fred is still there. Believe me. Those morons who brought Ilyria back earlier didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.”

“No. I mean, I know Fred wasn’t destroyed, but she isn’t here until the ritual is performed.” He noticed Roger’s admiring glance. “I went through some changes myself.” Wes chuckled. Then the transformation that Angel was still freaked out by, but becoming more familiar with, took place.

Tha cobalt eyes shone forth, and took in the Burkles. “Hello. Mr. And Mrs. Burkle, I presume?” Altyron stepped to the couple and greeted them formally. “I am Altyron. I hope it will be a pleasure to meet the parents of one so worthy of my Ilyria.”

“Dang, Wes. That is just impressive.” Roger stopped himself. “Oh. Sorry. Altyron, not Wes now. My apologies, sir...majesty....How exactly do I address you?”

“Altyron is fine for now. You may worship me later if that is your wish.” The glint of humor that shone in the electric blue eyes caught everyone by surprise, as did the unaffected smile of genuine humor.

“Ok, buddy. Chill with the gettin funny.” Angel looked seriously confused at Altyron’s joking.

“Altyron, then. You mind explaining what is going on? I mean, what happened to Wes? And where is Ilyria?” Trish finally spoke up again. She had liked the young Wesley and wondered at why he had allowed this to happen to him. “Wes seemed to have such a good, if dark and broody, head on his shoulders. He had so much pain inside him. I liked him, though, because he always cared about our little girl.”

“Wesley loved Fred, Trish. In the best and brightest possible ways. She was his light, and watching her die destroyed him. He had nothing to live for anymore. So I stepped in, more fully. I have always been here. But I’ll explain that later. Let me summon Ilyria for you.” Altyron closed his eyes and stilled for a moment. When he opened them again, he smiled. A few seconds later, Ilyria was standing in the door of the office.

“You may be my equal, Altyron, but I come because it suits me, not because of your arrogant summons.” Ilyria looked with disdain at the creature who had called to her mind. “What did you want?”

“Ilyria. Do you not recognize Fred’s parents?”

She finally acknowledged the Burkles standing there. “Oh yes. Fred’s parents. I remember your visit to Wolfram and Hart. It was most informative and oddly pleasant. Wesley was angry with me afterward. He did not understand.” Ilyria moved over to the couple who were watching her with awe on their faces. “You should be proud of your offspring. She took the joining well, despite not having the ritual.”

Then Ilyria did something completely alien. She knelt at their feet and offered, to Angel’s shocked ears, an apology to Fred’s parents.

“I ask your forgiveness for not questioning the Qwa’Ha Xahn. The one called Knox said he was my worshipper and guide in this world. He had the ritual marks, carried my sacraments inside him. Had I known he was not the true Qwa’Ha Xahn, I would have removed his entrails with my bare fingers and restrained him with them for daring to interfere in this ancient rite. I am sorry for the torture and death your daughter, my trusted vessel had to endure due to that one’s foolish, impatient impudence.”

Altyron looked on proudly as Ilyria tried to make the situation right. He took her arm and indicated she should rise. Roger and Trish met her eyes with forgiveness. Roger spoke first. “We know it wasn’t your fault, Ilyria. We were prepared, have been for ages, to bring you back into this world. We figured you would help Fred help Angel. You are not to blame for the foolishness of other less reverent acolytes.” He smiled quickly. “Of course, you had better be willing to complete the ritual now, yes?”

For the fourth time that day, Angel was shocked. Ilyria laughed sincerely. “Yes. I have brought Fred forth several times, but Wesley is adamant about not doing it. He seems to think I merely wear her as a costume. Fred would never deign to be a costume. She is a powerful presence in this shell.” She turned her head to the side. “You have done a great service in rearing such a vessel. I am most appreciative.”

Angel, freaked out beyond measure, did the only thing he knew to do: bluster. “Alright! Let’s get this show on the road, then, eh? What do we need to do? Any specific time, ingredients, chanting? I got all kinds of books and stuff that should help us out.”Altyron, channeling more of Wesley than usual, seemed taken aback by Angel’s apparent descent into babble.

Altyron stayed him with a steady stare. “That will not be necessary, Angel. The Burkles have everything in hand, I believe. And Mr. Giles and Wes gathered all the supplies last night, if I am reading Wes’ thoughts correctly here. The ritual will be performed tonight, before midnight. Until then, the four of us,” he indicated the Burkles, himself, and Ilyria, “are going to reacquaint ourselves.” He nodded to Angel. “I suggest you enjoy your day and your company, Angel.”

“Right. Umm, you guys enjoy yourselves. Just give us a shout when you are ready, or if you need anything.” Angel turned and left the group to themselves.

Angel crossed the lobby after leaving his office and heard the distinct sound of Docs on the stair case. He grinned.

“Hey Spike. Morning.”

“Blood. Give me blood first, conversation later, Angel.” Spike moved into the kitchen, followed closely by Angel. They were greeted by the warm sweet smell of pancakes and syrup, and some blood. Andrew looked up at them, silently handing them both a warm mug of O neg, and indicating that they should sit down and enjoy some breakfast. Buffy and Gunn were laughing over their breakfast, and looked up in greeting when the two vampires sat down.

Buffy looked at the plate of pancakes sitting in front of Angel. “Since when do you eat, Angel?

“I’ve been doing a lot of things I wouldn’t normally do, since Spike came back.” Angel started on the pancakes.

Spike smiled at his sire. “Yeah, Slayer. Sire and me got a lot of stuff worked out. He hates me, I hate him. He teaches me about the soul thing, I teach him not to be broody. He gets us human blood, I get him to eat human food. All works in the end.”

“Ok. And with the mention of human blood at breakfast, I’m definitely done.” Gunn rose and put his half eaten breakfast in the sink. “Thanks Andrew, breakfast was great. Buff, remember the Kennedy deal, k? I’ll catch y’all later.”

As Gunn left, Xander and Giles entered and the three exchanged morning greetings. Xander spoke first. “I smelled breakfast. Knew Andrew had to be at work. Pancakes! Great, I’m starved.” He sat down and grabbed a stack of the prepared brekkies.

Giles fixed himself a cup of tea, grateful that Angel at least had some good stuff in the hotel. He forewent the pancakes, however. “Too heavy too early.” He apologized to Andrew for not partaking.

“S’ok, Giles. I made you some toast and jam.” Andrew set the slight breakfast in front of a grateful Giles, who nodded his thanks. He then gathered his own plate, and sat at the end of the table next to Xander. He smiled as he watched the group eat, thinking he had done something good. Then Andrew addressed the group. “So. The slayers are almost healed, the bad guy defeated, and the gang all assembled. When are we leaving, Giles? Buffy? I mean, we still have so much work to do on the council, and Willow has called since she left a few days ago. We really need to get back. More girls are showing up, now that word has gone out. Not only that, more candidates are turning up for Watcher positions. Who is doing the screening?”

The assembled group had stopped eating when Andrew started. Now they were staring pointedly at nothing. Avoiding the issues he mentioned with no degree of subtlety. Giles was the first to come to his senses. He sighed and nodded. “Yes, I suppose we will have to be getting back, now that the great evil law firm has been defeated.” The last said with a touch of Giles humor. Then he took in Angel, Spike and Buffy. “Umm, perhaps before we leave, you three need to ah, well, some issues need to be addressed?”

They all watched the flush creep up Buffy’s face. “Yeah, I guess so. Giles. Can I, I mean, we talk about it later. I mean, I assume we’ll be staying to help with the joining thingy for Fred, right? Cuz, I mean, leaving in the lurch? So not my thing, is it?” She looked pointedly at Giles.

“Right, then.” Giles glared hard at her. “We stay till the weekend, then we absolutely have to get back.”

“I don’t.” This softly whispered from Xander. Buffy and Giles looked at him agog. He noticed their stares and continued calmly. “I don’t need to get back. I have no function there. I’m not the muscle, I don’t have the brains, or powers that you guys have. You don’t need me. I’m staying.” He rose and moved to put his plate in the sink. Angel and Spike watched this development with some interest.

Neither of them could figure out why the boy - no, man now - could be feeling like that. Spike especially was taken by surprise. He knew first hand just exactly how necessary Xander was to Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies. He stopped Xander from leaving. “Hey. You’re needed, pet. Don’t you get it?” He smiled genuinely. “Without you, it all goes to shite. You’re the thread that holds that group together. You’re why they - we - fight. They’d all be lost to the darkness of the Hellmouth, were it not for you.” Spike walked to the young man, grasping his arms as he approached. “Hell, boy! We all would. So don’t sell yourself, or your contribution, short, pet.” He grinned then. “But, hey, if you don’t want to head back to musty old England, or dusty really old Africa, you can always stay with us. Right Angel?”

Angel nodded once.

“Well. I was going to ask if I could do that anyway, Spike.” Xander posed the question to Angel through a look. Angel smiled his agreement. “Thanks, man.” Xander inclined his head in reply and left the kitchen, saying, “I’ll be in the courtyard.” Spike followed him with concerned eyes and sighed. “Damn.”

No one heard the tiny sound of agony Andrew made as he gathered his dishes and stood. He started planning out loud. “Ok, so we’ll be leaving this weekend. Except for Xander. Good to know. I can get everyone ready. I just need to finish the girls’ breakfast and I’ll start.” He started cleaning up the mess from breakfast, while starting on the larger one he knew the girls outside training would need.

Angel addressed Buffy and Giles. “So what, umm, issues need to be worked out?” At the confused looks, he sighed. “Giles. You said that Buffy, Spike, and I had issues that needed to be addressed. What issues? Mystical, hellmouthy issues? Or, and I can’t believe I’m asking this, more personal issues?”

“Oh. Well, personal. But it is between you three. I have very little to do with it.” Giles answered while taking a sip of his very delicious tea. He closed his eyes in enjoyment. “This is very good tea, Angel.”

“It’s Spike’s.” Angel clarified. He noticed that Giles had said “very little” and not “nothing.” He watched the man carefully. Then glanced at Spike, who had moved to stand slightly behind Buffy. Sire and childe communicated without words. Spike scented the air around Buffy, as Angel did the same around the Watcher. Neither noticed the investigation of their persons. The vampires reached the same conclusion. Buffy had moved on. The discussion wouldn’t be necessary for them, but they knew it would be for her. Spike spoke to her. “Well, come on, Slayer, let’s you, me, and the Sire have it out shall we?”

She couldn’t prevent the seeking glance at Giles. He subtly shook his head no, indicating she would be on her own. She took a fortifying breath and addressed the two vampires. “Alright. I guess this needs to be done, then.”

Spike and Angel sat stunned into silence. Both looked at Buffy like she had sprouted horns and goat legs.

“Married?” Angel was the first to break the tension in the room.

“Slayer, you’re married?” Spike followed shortly thereafter.

“But what about being cookie dough, and baking? And to the Immortal no less?” Angel snorted. “Rotten bastard.”

Spike finally smiled at her, a genuine smile and Buffy was relieved.

“Congrats, Slayer. Finally found the one that gets you, all of you, so to speak.” He walked over to her and lifted her bodily out of the chair she was in. Buffy squeaked when Spike grabbed her in a tight hug. “Good on you, Buffy. If that silly git the Immortal does anythin to hurt you, you just let me know. Me an’ Angel’ll kick his sorry ass all the way to hell.”

“Right,” she laughed. “He knew you were in Italy, and well,” she looked a little sheepish. “Well, we thought it was funny, playin you two. He likes you two, really. You’re fun to pick on.” She grinned evilly. “Especially together.”

“Hey! Spike and I are not together. We’re not.” Angel finally contributed, pulling out of his shock. “Buffy.” He said quietly, rising from his chair and walking over to her. “If you really are happy, then I’m happy for you.” He folded his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. “And everything Spike said goes double for me. He hurts you, we’ll find a way to kill him.” He pulled back from her.

“At least she ain’t shaggin Giles, eh, Angel.”

“What? You thought?! No. How could you think that?”

“Well, his scent is all over you, and yours on him. What’s a vamp to think, Slayer?”

Angel rolled his eyes at Spike’s tactlessness.

“That I train with the man? We fight together? He’s like a Dad to me, and we might occasionally share a hug? You freak!”

“Right! Got it now. Calm down, Buffy.”

“Oh, Spike I could so kick your ass right now.” She turned to Angel. “Oh god, he is such a pig. How do you put up with it?”

“I thought it too, Buffy. Was going to ask,” he shot a perturbed look to Spike, “delicately if you and Giles were, you know? Together? But Spike, as usual has beaten me to it, and in a most ignoble way. I’ll cuff him for you later.”

Buffy smiled in such an evil way that both Spike and Angel began to fear her. “Whatchya gonna cuff him to, and can I watch? I have oil.”

The quiet summer day settled over the hotel, creating a tranquil idyll in the middle of the bustling city. As the afternoon passed, the inhabitants of the hotel carried on about their day. The Slayers continued training, coming inside to study weapons, even sparring with Gunn and Angel, who took to the role of teacher easily. Xander busied himself in the courtyard, clearing out dead bushes, fixing the fountain and generally creating a beautiful space. Andrew finished in the kitchen, clearing out the detritus of breakfast. Then he started to pack everyone up for the trip back to England. No one really noticed his misery. Buffy and Spike enjoyed some quiet time in front of the television, occasionally teasing each other about their soaps. Altyron, Ilyria and the Burkles became acquainted, discussing Fred, the ritual, and the Burkle’s home in Texas. And Giles, as always, was researching the ritual he and Wes would perform to join Fred and Ilyria permanently.

“Ahh, here it is. I knew this was the case. Had seen it before.” Giles rose from his seat at Wes’ desk to cross over to Angel’s office.

“Excuse me, I didn’t realize you had guests, Altyron. I apologize for interrupting, but I really need to speak to Wesley.”

“Certainly, Mr. Giles. He’ll be right in.”

“Ah, good, then.” Giles walked back over to Wes’ office and sat down again, rereading the passages in front of him.

“Did you find something new, Giles?” Wes took a seat across the desk from Giles.

“Hmmm?” he looked up. “Oh. Yes, as a matter of fact, it was something I ran across in my previous research when Angel first called me about Fred’s illness.” He met Wes’ eyes in apology. “Though we couldn’t help you then, I did want to find out all I could about the situation. Just in case, you see.”

Wes nodded. “It’s quite alright, Giles. We were devastated, and I still miss Fred, but we know more now. And frankly, Ilyria has grown on me.” He laughed, and this encouraged Giles to smile.

“Right, I can see how that would happen. Fred must have indeed been a beautiful girl. I’m sorry for your loss.” He accepted Wes’ nodded assurances. “Ok. Here is what I’ve found out. Well, no. Let’s start at the beginning.”

“By all means, let’s.”

“Cheeky bugger.” Giles grinned. “Well, it seems that both Atryon and Ilyria are of the same race of beings? You knew that, though so that is nothing new. However, you probably didn’t know that they also had a race of - for lack of a better term - stewards.”

“Yes. The Bha’ ra Cahl. I have Altyron inside my head, Giles. He would know of his stewards, I think.”

“Right. Well. This is getting to the parts that you don’t know. What was your mother’s last name, Wesley?”

“Giles, you very well know that. My mother’s name was Camilla Barclay.”

“Ok. And Fred’s parents’ last name?”

“Burkle, of course.”

“Wes. You’re a Watcher. An educated man, well versed in languages and history. Think man.” Come on, put it together, Wes.

Wes frowned in concentration. Thoughts raced behind his eyes, as his brain made the connections. “Oh my god. Barclay, Burkle. And with the American tendency to bastardize European names...” Realization dawned in Wes’ sapphire eyes. “You’re telling me that my mother and the Burkle’s are descendants of this race of stewards.” Not a question.

“Yes. Here comes the kicker. When do you first remember encountering Altyron’s presence?”

“After Justine slit my throat, and I lay there dying. He came to me, urging me to live, and finally, I think took over so I would.”

Giles nodded solemnly. “Well, that wasn’t the first time. Think harder.”

Wes shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Giles.”

“You were young, barely into grammar school. Your father locked you in the stairwell closet...” Giles prompted the memories.

“The first time. Oh god. I remember the first time. I had got my Latin conjugations wrong. Father said that wouldn’t do, that I needed to sit and think about my error. Away from distractions, he told me. He lock me... He locked me in the stairwell. So dark. I was so scared. I couldn’t breath...so terrified of small spaces... I think ..no I remember passing out. And light. A bright bluewhite light. I thought someone had opened the door but no. I watched the light come to me. God how can I remember this?! I was unconscious! And it spoke to me...asked me to let it in. It was so warm, comforting. So, of course I said yes. I said yes. Yes. Oh dear lord.”

“Well, that is something I should be saying now, isn’t it?” Giles’s smile offered comfort and sympathy to the younger man, shuddering in awful memories. “So, now you know the truth of the matter. At least about you and Altyron. And why I couldn’t say anything to you about your destiny? You had already fulfilled it.”

“I was only 10 though. How can a ten year old boy fulfill a man’s destiny?”

“By making a choice, Wesley. Power is in the choices we make.”

“So. This is who I’m supposed to be?”

“No. It’s simply who you are, and always have been. He came to you through your mother. Just as Ilyria came to Fred through her father.”

“So why does Ilyria need to perform the ritual joining? And I didn’t.”

“You made the choice to accept him, even though you didn’t know what you were accepting, you still made the choice to do so. The joining was wanted. Fred never had that choice. We need to give her that opportunity. The ritual brings her back to the fore, we ask her to make the choice, and then we say the joining words. That part is the simple. It is the calling Fred to the fore that may prove difficult.”

“Why? Ilyria has agreed to let her forward. Why would it be difficult?”

“Ahh, well, I was unaware of Ilyria’s consent.” Giles frowned in concentration. “Let us hope she remains consensual or Fred could be lost forever.” He heard a crinkling sound, like tissue paper being wadded into a ball. When he looked up in question, Altyron stared back at him through cobalt eyes.

“She will do as she is told, Mr. Giles. I taught her, loved her. I made her what she is and she will obey.”

“I thought I was talking to Wesley.” Giles was just a little frightened by the coldness of Altyron’s voice.

“I was listening. His distress called me out. I don’t like Wesley distressed, Mr. Giles.” He cocked his head to one side. “And you distressed him twice in this conversation. Once too many, as the first time was necessary.” He rose. “Ilyria will perform the ritual, because I tell her to. Fred will be rejoined with her, and will have as much control over Ilyria as Wesley has over me. And Ilyria will protect her just as I protect him.”

Giles watched as Altyron turned to leave the office. “Now, I have guests that I have left alone too long. You prepare for the ritual. We will see you before midnight.”