Illyria, Alone. (5/5)
And here comes the epilogue. Many thanks to those who've been reading and leaving feedback! Hope you like the ending... *crosses fingers*
Previous chapters here.
Epilogue
Illyria’s temple had been beautiful. Soaring pillars, depth so vast it it could not be gauged. Austere. Severe. Perfect. Unadorned except for her statue - inspiring awe and terror and fear.
She had gone there but once - expecting to find her army, ready to lay the world under her feet. But it had gone; her army - her strength - was no more. The loss had been acute, like the severing of a limb, for what was a ruler without a world to rule? She had been condemned to live in a world of lesser beings, without the adoration she deserved - the absence of power like a void in her, one she had lived with every day, until...
Now.
Illyria sat completely still, letting go of years of aggravating servility. Then slowly, slowly she opened her eyes, letting the essence of pure power fill her up. The room in which she sat was small and oddly homely. Flags and pictures adorned the walls, and there was comfortable seating in the middle of the room. Not much bigger than the average study she reckoned, and yet this was The Oval Office in The White House and she was its master. Its power didn’t show, but she could feel it all around. At the tips of her fingers was the greatest, richest country in the world - bounty and treasures and weapons and resources all hers to command - and millions upon millions of followers.
She thought that this must be what a ‘headrush’ felt like - the sensation almost overwhelming. She finally felt like Illyria again - her hands were no longer empty or powerless. She held the reigns to a new kingdom - and this time, it would last forever.
But the fight was only just beginning. She had ruthlessly pursued power - now that it was finally hers, she would have to work at keeping it. And at the top of her list was Wolfram and Hart. She was unsure how to best dismantle them, although so far they had proved less of a challenge than she had anticipated - and in some cases the outcome had been almost comical. There had been the time with the press conference...
******
The room had been packed with journalists, all wanting to talk to the new candidate. Everything had been going smoothly until a 'freelance journalist' had put up her hand. Taking in her appearance, Illyria knew that there was no way someone in a job like that would be able to afford real Prada, not to mention the most fashionable handbag of the moment that came with a $3000 price tag. W&H were getting sloppy or desperate - whichever way, it suited her fine.
She nodded, and the immaculate young woman asked: "I'm sorry if I sound like a conspiracy theorist, but isn't a 5 year coma really very unusual... not to mention the fact that your parents couldn't find you. It would almost seem as though this coma was made up to... hide something?"
Illyria had smiled her most mischievous Fred smile. "Oh you clever thing - ah well, I always knew the truth would come out some day... "
The room went completely silent, every reporter hanging on her next words. She had taken a moment to savour the sensation - then continued, face earnest.
"OK, one day when I was working in the library, I opened up this huge big book, full of strange symbols. Before I knew what had happened something like a wormhole opened up and I was sucked into a parallel universe! It was like... Disney gone wrong - humans were kept as slaves by horrible creatures, but luckily I managed to escape and ended up living in a cave for years just like Robinson Crusoe, until one day a tall handsome vampire hero came and saved me on his stallion and brought me back home. Oh - and he was also a freelance detective!"
The room burst into simultaneous laughter and applause, and Illyria grinned. "I know... playing Dungeons and Dragons too much rots the brain, but it's nice to have something different to focus the mind before the big debates. Oh and I plan to write this all down in an Official Biography if I don't get elected, so you'd better vote for me!"
There were more chuckles, and the W&H woman walked out in disgust. Illyria took a breath, and then turned serious. "But - speaking of my time in a coma, I must again highlight the plight of the charity that saved my life by paying for my medical bills when no one knew who I was. If you could all include information about them in your articles - this is the web address..."
******
Although relentlessly hard work, her journey to the presidency had been strangely enjoyable. The way everyone had underestimated her, thought her a little girl out of her league... and how opponent after opponent had found her as unyielding as rock, unwilling to compromise when she knew she was right. The press and the public, tired of lies and deceit, had swiftly fallen under her sway as she proved time and again that she was above such faults.
She almost pitied Wolfram & Hart because they had had no way of defeating her - there was not a shady dealing in her entire history, nor the slightest whiff of scandal. And now that power was finally hers again... she would teach them a lesson! Their power being built on deceit and greed, it should prove fairly easy to expose them for what they were.
As satisfying as this would be, she realised that there was something... missing. She looked at her hands - Fred’s hands in more than just memory. Her vessel had become a part of her to a much greater extent than she could ever have foreseen. And she could not show her true face...
When was the last time she had faced an opponent who knew who she really was? Or fought a battle with more than words and cunning? She had an army now, sure, but she would not be able to lead it into battle herself, tearing apart her enemies and displaying her trophies for all to see.
When was the last time blood had dripped from her hands?
She had won power in this world, but the price had been steep. It was - as she now knew - something called a catch-22. Finally she had the power that was her due as Illyria... and yet the very nature of that power dictated that she could not reveal herself. Not for many, long years. As she sat pondering this, there was a soft knock on the door.
"Come in," she called out, and her secretary entered. "Sorry to disturb you, Miss... President..."
He smiled at the words and she smiled back.
“...but the party is about to begin, and we can't start without you!"
"I'm on my way," she replied as she got up. "I'm still just trying to adjust to actually being here - it's a bit overwhelming. I wanna start like... a hundred different things right now!"
And they both laughed as they walked out of the Oval Office.
A while later - after she'd made a speech about a new future for the nation and assorted thank you's - Illyria was mingling with her guests, making small talk and greeting people. Looking around, she shot a swift smile at Jay-C, now her head of security, as he was conferring with Big Mike - both of them beneficiaries of her '2nd Chance' scheme when she was a Governor. She would have to take it nation wide as early as possible.
Now who was this? A split second later the information was there, and she inquired after the Ambassador's family and congratulated him on his newborn son. The man was obviously impressed and touched, and she easily arranged a meeting with him in the near future - there were some trade deals that could be made better, and he looked very receptive.
The key to success had been so very easy once she had found it: Discover what someone wanted and then give it to them. But do it in a way that showed that you cared and did not expect anything in return - and soon your bounty would overflow. She had in times past been used to the masses adoring and worshipping her, and if it was out of fear or admiration it did not matter. But with humans it was different - to them the most important thing in the world was love. And if you could get someone to follow you out of love, then their loyalty was assured forever.
Having finished with the Ambassador, she greeted a steel magnate, offering him a sincere thank you for helping to finance her final campaign. As he moved on, Illyria wondered if maybe she should help herself to a glass of Champagne to show her spirit of celebration, when suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks.
In front of her - as real as the air which she did not breathe - stood Spike!
After a moment’s complete surprise, her face cracked open in a wide smile and she threw her arms around his neck.
(Big outbursts of emotion were allowed for those in higher offices if the occasion was great enough. It helped to show that they were not above the general populace and still had a touchingly human side.)
"Spike! You're alive!" she pulled back, hands resting on his shoulders, and surveyed him in wonder.
How had he made it out alive? How had she not known? Studying him, she suddenly realised that it was not just his hair that was now different (the brown curls had delayed her recognition by about 3/10 of a second) - his skin was warm, his heart was beating, and his face showed signs of ageing. His hair even had a few scattered grey strands.
"I mean... really alive! How can this be? I thought you were... well... dead!"
(Careful, careful, her mind told her. Never let the mask slip, never let on what really happened - there are people all around us and every word is being caught on tape.)
He smiled softly and took her hands.
"It's a long story, although I'm sure you'll be able to work out most of it by yourself. Suffice to say I went to Europe as soon as possible... I didn't even know where you were until a few years ago when you started making a noise. You've done well!"
He looked around the room - and by implication the whole building and the office she now held - in an appreciative manner, but she could tell that there were other, unsaid things hiding behind his words. This had been one of the hardest things to learn - figuring out how to understand when people said one thing, but meant or insinuated something else. Hard, but not impossible.
Spike’s companion said nothing, just observed in silence.
"Amazing, isn't it? Little me, in such elevated surroundings. Who would have thought it?" Illyria did her best bashful-Fred impersonation, although she knew that it was useless to fool him. He was playing a game she could tell, his eyes full of secrets and hidden meanings - but she was the master of all human games now.
Spike shook his head. "Naw - always knew you'd go far. Guess I'm a little surprised at your... patience." Before she could answer, he let go of her hands and pulled forward his companion - a beautiful blonde in a flame coloured dress. "But where are my manners? Fred, I'd like you to meet my wife, Buffy Summers!"
"You're married? How wonderful!" Illyria exclaimed, as she enthusiastically shook Buffy's hand. A grip of considerable strength meant that if there had been any doubt, it was now certain that this was The Buffy Summers, Slayer extraordinaire, averter of Apocalypses and Saviour of Human Kind.
"It’s great to finally meet - I've heard so much about you!" the Slayer said, a brilliant smile on her lips. Illyria could clearly see why her two vampires had fallen for her. She easily outshone every other person in the room with her sheer presence - power glowing around her for those who could see such things.
"Any children?" Illyria inquired mischievously, and Buffy smiled. "Twin boys - just as impossible as their father!" Spike grinned proudly, then added, "Of course we do see an awful lot of girls in our work, so it's nice that home is more of a male territory!"
He put his arm protectively around his wife and Buffy mock-slapped him. "Shut up. We do good work in The Council - we could maybe even tell the President about it sometime if she's interested?"
Illyria observed them warily. The 'girls' they were speaking of could only be the Slayers that had been activated all around the world. Were they offering their allegiance?
"Sounds fascinating - we should try to meet someday," she replied. Spike shook his head at Buffy. "Don't be too optimistic Pet, remember that Fred will be looking out for America's interests first and foremost, just as we try to watch out for Britain..."
There was a smile on his lips, but his eyes were cold as he studied Illyria.
Ah, so that's how it was. This was probably also the explanation for how they managed to get into this party. The Watcher’s Council would know which strings to pull - a powerful organisation indeed. As she pondered the new scenario, a question intruded and she felt compelled to change the subject.
"Do you know what happened to Angel?"
She knew the answer before they replied, saw it clearly on their suddenly pained faces, the tighter grip of their hands.
"We're still looking!" Buffy said, although the remnants of hope in her voice were stretched thin. It had been many years indeed since the battle in the alley - and if Spike had reaped the Shanshu, then Angel must upon his death have slipped into hell... but such was the fate he had chosen. It was not for Illyria to interfere with what The Powers ordained - not yet anyway...
Obviously deciding that the topic was too sensitive, Spike brought up something new. "We hear you enjoy playing D&D?"
"I do..." she answered, unsure where he was going with this.
"Win a lot?" his tone was light, but she now understood that he was using this as a metaphor for her path. This was tricky. D&D could not be won - but then no one had ever ruled the whole world. Some had come close, but she intended to have it all.
"Always." she replied.
Spike nodded slowly, then smiled a little. "Interesting - so do we."
"So I hear..." she answered, glancing at Buffy, “...got any special tricks?”
Buffy smiled - the self-assured, challenging smile of a Champion accustomed to winning - and said, "Got this weapon - very old and powerful - killed the last pure... dragon."
Oh. This was new. A weapon that could slay pure demons was a mighty thing indeed. They had the means to kill her, and had obviously chosen this moment to let her know...
So they were not on her side, but new players in her game - righteous ones, fighting for the ‘good’ of humankind and capable of taking her down. Worthy adversaries at last - raising the stakes and by so doing making the eventual victory more satisfying.
"Fascinating..." she replied, eyes glowing.
Then Jamesson was at her elbow. "Pardon me, but you're needed Madam President..."
"Of course!" she smiled. "Spike - Mrs Summers - it was wonderful to see you. Maybe we'll meet sometime - we could play D&D..."
"Count on it!" Spike replied, and he and the Slayer stepped back and vanished in the crowd. Illyria followed Jamesson, a secretive smile on her lips.
Living had never been so sweet...
THE END
Previous chapters here.
Epilogue
Illyria’s temple had been beautiful. Soaring pillars, depth so vast it it could not be gauged. Austere. Severe. Perfect. Unadorned except for her statue - inspiring awe and terror and fear.
She had gone there but once - expecting to find her army, ready to lay the world under her feet. But it had gone; her army - her strength - was no more. The loss had been acute, like the severing of a limb, for what was a ruler without a world to rule? She had been condemned to live in a world of lesser beings, without the adoration she deserved - the absence of power like a void in her, one she had lived with every day, until...
Now.
Illyria sat completely still, letting go of years of aggravating servility. Then slowly, slowly she opened her eyes, letting the essence of pure power fill her up. The room in which she sat was small and oddly homely. Flags and pictures adorned the walls, and there was comfortable seating in the middle of the room. Not much bigger than the average study she reckoned, and yet this was The Oval Office in The White House and she was its master. Its power didn’t show, but she could feel it all around. At the tips of her fingers was the greatest, richest country in the world - bounty and treasures and weapons and resources all hers to command - and millions upon millions of followers.
She thought that this must be what a ‘headrush’ felt like - the sensation almost overwhelming. She finally felt like Illyria again - her hands were no longer empty or powerless. She held the reigns to a new kingdom - and this time, it would last forever.
But the fight was only just beginning. She had ruthlessly pursued power - now that it was finally hers, she would have to work at keeping it. And at the top of her list was Wolfram and Hart. She was unsure how to best dismantle them, although so far they had proved less of a challenge than she had anticipated - and in some cases the outcome had been almost comical. There had been the time with the press conference...
******
The room had been packed with journalists, all wanting to talk to the new candidate. Everything had been going smoothly until a 'freelance journalist' had put up her hand. Taking in her appearance, Illyria knew that there was no way someone in a job like that would be able to afford real Prada, not to mention the most fashionable handbag of the moment that came with a $3000 price tag. W&H were getting sloppy or desperate - whichever way, it suited her fine.
She nodded, and the immaculate young woman asked: "I'm sorry if I sound like a conspiracy theorist, but isn't a 5 year coma really very unusual... not to mention the fact that your parents couldn't find you. It would almost seem as though this coma was made up to... hide something?"
Illyria had smiled her most mischievous Fred smile. "Oh you clever thing - ah well, I always knew the truth would come out some day... "
The room went completely silent, every reporter hanging on her next words. She had taken a moment to savour the sensation - then continued, face earnest.
"OK, one day when I was working in the library, I opened up this huge big book, full of strange symbols. Before I knew what had happened something like a wormhole opened up and I was sucked into a parallel universe! It was like... Disney gone wrong - humans were kept as slaves by horrible creatures, but luckily I managed to escape and ended up living in a cave for years just like Robinson Crusoe, until one day a tall handsome vampire hero came and saved me on his stallion and brought me back home. Oh - and he was also a freelance detective!"
The room burst into simultaneous laughter and applause, and Illyria grinned. "I know... playing Dungeons and Dragons too much rots the brain, but it's nice to have something different to focus the mind before the big debates. Oh and I plan to write this all down in an Official Biography if I don't get elected, so you'd better vote for me!"
There were more chuckles, and the W&H woman walked out in disgust. Illyria took a breath, and then turned serious. "But - speaking of my time in a coma, I must again highlight the plight of the charity that saved my life by paying for my medical bills when no one knew who I was. If you could all include information about them in your articles - this is the web address..."
******
Although relentlessly hard work, her journey to the presidency had been strangely enjoyable. The way everyone had underestimated her, thought her a little girl out of her league... and how opponent after opponent had found her as unyielding as rock, unwilling to compromise when she knew she was right. The press and the public, tired of lies and deceit, had swiftly fallen under her sway as she proved time and again that she was above such faults.
She almost pitied Wolfram & Hart because they had had no way of defeating her - there was not a shady dealing in her entire history, nor the slightest whiff of scandal. And now that power was finally hers again... she would teach them a lesson! Their power being built on deceit and greed, it should prove fairly easy to expose them for what they were.
As satisfying as this would be, she realised that there was something... missing. She looked at her hands - Fred’s hands in more than just memory. Her vessel had become a part of her to a much greater extent than she could ever have foreseen. And she could not show her true face...
When was the last time she had faced an opponent who knew who she really was? Or fought a battle with more than words and cunning? She had an army now, sure, but she would not be able to lead it into battle herself, tearing apart her enemies and displaying her trophies for all to see.
When was the last time blood had dripped from her hands?
She had won power in this world, but the price had been steep. It was - as she now knew - something called a catch-22. Finally she had the power that was her due as Illyria... and yet the very nature of that power dictated that she could not reveal herself. Not for many, long years. As she sat pondering this, there was a soft knock on the door.
"Come in," she called out, and her secretary entered. "Sorry to disturb you, Miss... President..."
He smiled at the words and she smiled back.
“...but the party is about to begin, and we can't start without you!"
"I'm on my way," she replied as she got up. "I'm still just trying to adjust to actually being here - it's a bit overwhelming. I wanna start like... a hundred different things right now!"
And they both laughed as they walked out of the Oval Office.
A while later - after she'd made a speech about a new future for the nation and assorted thank you's - Illyria was mingling with her guests, making small talk and greeting people. Looking around, she shot a swift smile at Jay-C, now her head of security, as he was conferring with Big Mike - both of them beneficiaries of her '2nd Chance' scheme when she was a Governor. She would have to take it nation wide as early as possible.
Now who was this? A split second later the information was there, and she inquired after the Ambassador's family and congratulated him on his newborn son. The man was obviously impressed and touched, and she easily arranged a meeting with him in the near future - there were some trade deals that could be made better, and he looked very receptive.
The key to success had been so very easy once she had found it: Discover what someone wanted and then give it to them. But do it in a way that showed that you cared and did not expect anything in return - and soon your bounty would overflow. She had in times past been used to the masses adoring and worshipping her, and if it was out of fear or admiration it did not matter. But with humans it was different - to them the most important thing in the world was love. And if you could get someone to follow you out of love, then their loyalty was assured forever.
Having finished with the Ambassador, she greeted a steel magnate, offering him a sincere thank you for helping to finance her final campaign. As he moved on, Illyria wondered if maybe she should help herself to a glass of Champagne to show her spirit of celebration, when suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks.
In front of her - as real as the air which she did not breathe - stood Spike!
After a moment’s complete surprise, her face cracked open in a wide smile and she threw her arms around his neck.
(Big outbursts of emotion were allowed for those in higher offices if the occasion was great enough. It helped to show that they were not above the general populace and still had a touchingly human side.)
"Spike! You're alive!" she pulled back, hands resting on his shoulders, and surveyed him in wonder.
How had he made it out alive? How had she not known? Studying him, she suddenly realised that it was not just his hair that was now different (the brown curls had delayed her recognition by about 3/10 of a second) - his skin was warm, his heart was beating, and his face showed signs of ageing. His hair even had a few scattered grey strands.
"I mean... really alive! How can this be? I thought you were... well... dead!"
(Careful, careful, her mind told her. Never let the mask slip, never let on what really happened - there are people all around us and every word is being caught on tape.)
He smiled softly and took her hands.
"It's a long story, although I'm sure you'll be able to work out most of it by yourself. Suffice to say I went to Europe as soon as possible... I didn't even know where you were until a few years ago when you started making a noise. You've done well!"
He looked around the room - and by implication the whole building and the office she now held - in an appreciative manner, but she could tell that there were other, unsaid things hiding behind his words. This had been one of the hardest things to learn - figuring out how to understand when people said one thing, but meant or insinuated something else. Hard, but not impossible.
Spike’s companion said nothing, just observed in silence.
"Amazing, isn't it? Little me, in such elevated surroundings. Who would have thought it?" Illyria did her best bashful-Fred impersonation, although she knew that it was useless to fool him. He was playing a game she could tell, his eyes full of secrets and hidden meanings - but she was the master of all human games now.
Spike shook his head. "Naw - always knew you'd go far. Guess I'm a little surprised at your... patience." Before she could answer, he let go of her hands and pulled forward his companion - a beautiful blonde in a flame coloured dress. "But where are my manners? Fred, I'd like you to meet my wife, Buffy Summers!"
"You're married? How wonderful!" Illyria exclaimed, as she enthusiastically shook Buffy's hand. A grip of considerable strength meant that if there had been any doubt, it was now certain that this was The Buffy Summers, Slayer extraordinaire, averter of Apocalypses and Saviour of Human Kind.
"It’s great to finally meet - I've heard so much about you!" the Slayer said, a brilliant smile on her lips. Illyria could clearly see why her two vampires had fallen for her. She easily outshone every other person in the room with her sheer presence - power glowing around her for those who could see such things.
"Any children?" Illyria inquired mischievously, and Buffy smiled. "Twin boys - just as impossible as their father!" Spike grinned proudly, then added, "Of course we do see an awful lot of girls in our work, so it's nice that home is more of a male territory!"
He put his arm protectively around his wife and Buffy mock-slapped him. "Shut up. We do good work in The Council - we could maybe even tell the President about it sometime if she's interested?"
Illyria observed them warily. The 'girls' they were speaking of could only be the Slayers that had been activated all around the world. Were they offering their allegiance?
"Sounds fascinating - we should try to meet someday," she replied. Spike shook his head at Buffy. "Don't be too optimistic Pet, remember that Fred will be looking out for America's interests first and foremost, just as we try to watch out for Britain..."
There was a smile on his lips, but his eyes were cold as he studied Illyria.
Ah, so that's how it was. This was probably also the explanation for how they managed to get into this party. The Watcher’s Council would know which strings to pull - a powerful organisation indeed. As she pondered the new scenario, a question intruded and she felt compelled to change the subject.
"Do you know what happened to Angel?"
She knew the answer before they replied, saw it clearly on their suddenly pained faces, the tighter grip of their hands.
"We're still looking!" Buffy said, although the remnants of hope in her voice were stretched thin. It had been many years indeed since the battle in the alley - and if Spike had reaped the Shanshu, then Angel must upon his death have slipped into hell... but such was the fate he had chosen. It was not for Illyria to interfere with what The Powers ordained - not yet anyway...
Obviously deciding that the topic was too sensitive, Spike brought up something new. "We hear you enjoy playing D&D?"
"I do..." she answered, unsure where he was going with this.
"Win a lot?" his tone was light, but she now understood that he was using this as a metaphor for her path. This was tricky. D&D could not be won - but then no one had ever ruled the whole world. Some had come close, but she intended to have it all.
"Always." she replied.
Spike nodded slowly, then smiled a little. "Interesting - so do we."
"So I hear..." she answered, glancing at Buffy, “...got any special tricks?”
Buffy smiled - the self-assured, challenging smile of a Champion accustomed to winning - and said, "Got this weapon - very old and powerful - killed the last pure... dragon."
Oh. This was new. A weapon that could slay pure demons was a mighty thing indeed. They had the means to kill her, and had obviously chosen this moment to let her know...
So they were not on her side, but new players in her game - righteous ones, fighting for the ‘good’ of humankind and capable of taking her down. Worthy adversaries at last - raising the stakes and by so doing making the eventual victory more satisfying.
"Fascinating..." she replied, eyes glowing.
Then Jamesson was at her elbow. "Pardon me, but you're needed Madam President..."
"Of course!" she smiled. "Spike - Mrs Summers - it was wonderful to see you. Maybe we'll meet sometime - we could play D&D..."
"Count on it!" Spike replied, and he and the Slayer stepped back and vanished in the crowd. Illyria followed Jamesson, a secretive smile on her lips.
Living had never been so sweet...
THE END