Retrieval and Return- Chap. 4
Chapter 4
She was most definitely not in her room anymore, and she was no longer being held close and comfortingly by Wesley. She felt constricted all over, but it was fading. The bizarre leather suit that had previously graced her body melted away and dissipated, as well as the blue stains that had marked Illyria's presence. This left Fred naked on the bed; she sat up slowly. Tears began to fall down her cheeks, heaving sobs racking her figure; she grabbed onto herself and wept. "W-Wesley? Oh God..."
Spike pulled off his duster and draped it over her shoulders. She jumped, becoming aware of the people in the room, she threw herself at him and clung to his shirt. "Spike! I'm still here... I'm still here, they didn't take me, I stayed! Where's Wesley? Angel, Charles, Lorne!"
Her face became torn between elation and fear, mingled with confusion. Spike pried her from his ches and set her back on the bed, and Lorne sat beside her, placing his arm around her. "Freddles, sweetheart... Wesley's gone..."
The tone in his voice was all she needed to understand. She wept into his shirt and spilled her grief. Charles sat on her other side, and clutched her hands in his.
A long time later, when she had cried until she had no tears left, Angel and Gunn gently explained about the sarcophagus, about the hole in the world, about Illyria and Knox. They left out the particulars just then, about Wesley shooting a man in the kneecap, about him stabbing Gunn, about Gunn's involvement in the affair, and about the things they had faced after she had left. They never said died, because that would imply finality, and Fred had returned. They also left out everything about Wolfram and Hart, and fleeing it, because that was too much and could be left for some other time. For now, she needed to take it slow.
Quietly, she herself explained everything that had occurred in her apartment with Wesley. About how it had simply repeated itself, over and over, and she had relived it again and again.
"I... I was stuck in... a loop, I was caught in a piece of time that just kept repeating.. I... I couldn't.. couldn't stop it, couldn't break away... H-how did Wesley die?"
Angel rubbed the back of his neck. "We should leave that alone for now, you need rest, Fred, you're freaked out. You need to-"
"NO! I need to know what happened to him! I've got this image in my head..." she croaked. "Of him... and he's speaking to me, me, but I'm not really there... And then he's gone... I need to know." She glared at Angel, eyes red and puffy from crying.
Angel looked to the ground, awkwardly seeking assistance from the others. "I... We had a plan to take out the Circle of the Black Thorn. They were instruments of the Senior Partners on Earth... I sent each one of us to take out one of their members... Wesley was stabbed by Cyvus Vail, and he didn't make it." He looked to her face, filled once more with grief. "I'm sorry, Fred."
She shook her head, drooping her chin to her chest. Tears fell silently into her lap.
Quietly, Gunn, Angel, and Lorne convened outside the room with Shannon, leaving Spike inside to watch Fred.
He sat beside her on the bed, saying nothing because, really, what could be said? Pausing for a moment, he reached out and took hold of her hand, squeezing it gently. "Maybe you should sleep, pet. Rest, and mourn when you've got the energy to."
Fred's voice was small. "Stay with me?"
"'Course."
She lay back on her side, and he sat back on the floor beside the bed, leaning against the side table, stroking her hair softly until her eyes drooped and her breathing evened out.
He was struck with the realisation that he had really quite missed Fred. He hadn't understood how much he had enjoyed her company during his visits to the lab until she was gone. When he'd gone solid again he'd hardly interacted with her; and it was now he wondered why. He quietly decided that he would spend time with her now, to make up for what had been lost.
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"I dunno if there'll be any lasting effects, you know. Maybe memories from that Illyria lady, left over. But I told you guys, I'm no expert." Shannon shrugged. "You guys have really, really weird lives, by the way."
"We've been told... Thanks for your help, Shannon. If you ever have any other kind of trouble around here, give us a call." Angel scribbled a phone number on a bit of paper, and handed it to her. She tucked it into her blouse, fumbling briefly to locate the pocket.
"Hey... Is.. she going to be alright?"
Charles shook his head. "Lotta heavy stuff happened while she was out. A friend of ours died, and we still haven't told her everything."
"She needs time. She'll get there, Fred's a strong little girl." Lorne peered into the window. "She'll get there," he repeated.
Spike appeared in the doorway. "She's sleepin'."
"That's good... Thanks again, Shannon." Angel shook the woman's hand.
"Hey, we're square now. You helped us, we help you. Why don't you folks bring your friend down to the diner some night? Getting some home-cooked food in her belly might help." She smiled warmly.
"Sounds like a plan to me, but we should let her slow down, take it easy for a while."
Angel nodded at Charles. "This town'll be a nice setting for that, she can take it nice and slow and not have to worry about anything."
"Mmhm. Well, good luck, guys. I promised Karen I'd be home before morning." She departed, leaving them standing outside in the humid night air, peering into the room where Fred slept in Spike's coat.
"I can't believe we got her back..."
"Don't jinx it, Angelcakes." Lorne leaned against the frame of the door.
Despite the sorrow that accompanied Fred's return, there was a joy that the group hadn't felt in quite a while.
Maybe, Angel though, maybe things were going to get better. Maybe in a month or so they wouldn't be hiding out in a dingy old motel that smelled like cats. Maybe they'd be sitting in the Hyperion's lobby and trying to figure out why some demon was trying to kill someone with some ancient and powerful talisman.
He and Gunn went to rent a second room, because after a short debate it was decided that all five of them really could not stay in the one. Especially now that Fred was Fred again; she would need space, the ability to have a semblance of privacy. It was then decided, after a hushed debate that raged between the two vampires of the group, that they simply did not want to share a room with each other.
So it was Lorne who finally assembled room etiquette and shooed Gunn and Angel off to the new room. Spike would nap during the day in a bed shared with Lorne, in the room they would share with Fred.
"Why does HE share a room with you two?"
"Because, Angelface, as much as I adore you and Charlie, Spike is currently up-to-date on pop culture."
Spike smirked, looking smug while seated in the tiny couch that came along with the room. "Pays to slack off a bit, mate."
Angel merely glowered.
=====
Fred did not awaken until some time the following afternoon. At first she was very confused and disoriented, but after a moment of lethargic blinking, she remembered the night.
Quietly, she reached up and dragged the pillow to her chest and hugged it close, breathing deeply and thinking. The leather of Spike's coat stuck to her skin, but it was heavy and solid, something real and familiar. It smelled of a myriad of things: cigarette smoke, some type of alcohol, and a musky sort of smell that reminded her of all sorts of things that she attributed to Spike. Like fresh paper and hair bleach.
Wesley was dead, Knox had been the one who'd brought about Illyria, and she had returned to find them miles away from Los Angeles, and unsure of why. They hadn't told her everything, and for that she was glad. She could sort what she knew and then deal with more information.
God... Wesley, dead. The concept stung at her heart and made her eyes prickle with tears. She curled herself up further with the pillow. They'd had a week together, a very nice, hell, wonderful week.
She must have dozed off again, but not for very long, if the clock on the bedside table was any indication. Quietly she sat up and peered around the room. Light bled from the edges of the shades, and there was a lump in the other bed that, from the hair poking out of the covers, she assumed to be Spike.
She found fresh clothes lying on the edge of the bed, and tentatively she pulled them on. Everything felt so surreal. Trying her best to be silent, she tip-toed towards Spike's bed and laid his duster on the covers, then she headed to the bathroom.
Fred wondered, briefly, if Illyria had ever used the bathroom while using her body. Because the second she saw the toilet-- just wow, she'd never had to go that badly in all her life.
"Gotta pee like a racehorse," she mumbled under her breath, a saying her father often frequently used when not in the company of her mother. Mama could swear with the best of them, but that was one phrase she found too crude.
Peering into the mirror was like looking into someone else's face. Behind the neutral expression she wore, her mind whirled with formulas and equations which, for the moment, blocking other things from her mind.
She washed her hands and face, then found herself moments later sitting on the bed again, hugging the pillow. She wished she had Feigenbaum; he'd always been there for her; through every bad memory she could imagine. When Caroline Miller got the part of the Tooth Fairy in their fourth grade production, and she got stuck as Tooth Decay, the rabbit had listened to her anger and had quietly accepted the rage. When Tyler Carrigan looked like he'd rather kiss a skunk than go out with her, Feigenbaum had been there to catch her tears. And when she had returned from Pylea and retrieved the rabbit, it had been Feigenbaum who didn't whisper that she was crazy, and didn't make fun of her addiction to speedily-delivered enchiladas.
Today, however, it would need to be the pillow that caught her tears.
=====
The following days were spent gently explaining everything to Fred, who took most of it fairly well, all things considered. She didn't remember much of having her soul torn into pieces, just the fact that she had relived her last hours over and over again. Angel was under the belief that they shouldn't tell her about Wesley's violence towards the lawyer and Charles, who remained silent about it, but in the end it was Lorne who quietly explained these bits of information to her, four days after she had returned to them.
"He... did that? Over me? Didn't... didn't he know me well enough to know I wouldn't have wanted anyone to get hurt over me?" She sobbed, Lorne's arm draped over her shoulders.
"He was scared for you, Sweets. He went a little cuckoo."
"But Charles didn't know, that lawyer... Was he okay?" She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.
"Pretty intense therapy, that I know of. Heard it busted his kneecap bad."
"It's so hard, to think he would..." She was quiet. "He loved me too much, Lorne. Way, way too much."
Lorne nodded. "You're a loveable girl, Freddi. You know, I don't think the gang was ever as close when we lost you than the entire time we took over Wolfram and Hart."
She sniffled. "I'm not Cordelia."
"No, but you kept us together just as much as she did. I think all of us would have split up if it hadn't been for us trying to honor you, Freddikins." She looked up at him, then, looking confused.
"What do you mean?"
"I was going to stop helping Angel. Was going to take off and never see him and the others again, after we took down the Black Thorn." He nudged her chin with his hand. "But then I thought, 'Hey, Freddles wouldn't bail out on them. She'd be sticking with them like Laurel and Hardy.' I think, and this is my professional opinion," Fred giggled through the sniffling. "...that if it weren't for you, we'd all be split up right now."
She hugged him. "Thank you, Lorne... You're a good friend." Fred smiled at him. "Do you... Do you think Wesley..."
"I think Wes wouldn't want you to dwell too much on what he did. I'm not saying it was right, but he wanted you to be happy."
Her voice was small. "That wasn't what I was going to ask... I was wondering... Do you think, when he died... He went someplace good? I mean after the things he did, you know, did he go somewhere where he would be happy?"
Lorne seemed to not have an answer for a moment, but then he smiled gently. "I think whoever it is that decides where we go when we go, Freddles, knew that Wes's intentions were good."
It was after that conversation that Fred began to get antsy. She rummaged through the drawers in the room and located a pen, but no paper. Undaunted, she pulled up the phonebook that all hotels come equipped with and began to write. Through the days she filled the pages, and once Angel peeked over her shoulder and found she wasn't writing equations and theorems; she was writing her thoughts. So rather than her write on the phone book, Angel went out and located several marble notebooks from a Wal Mart in town, and gave them to her along with a box of brand-spanking-new pens.
Fred was thrilled, and it was the first time she had really smiled since she had returned to them. She'd hugged him tight around the middle, thanking him. ( "Ooh! They have the multiplication table in the back! You know I've always had trouble remembering the twelve times tables, don't know why, something about it." )
She wrote everything she thought and felt on that particular day. Wrote long passages of things she had wanted to tell and things she now wished she could tell to Wesley. Sometimes she would feel suddenly and hopelessly saddened at his death and the events that led to it; and depending on who was in the room or who was around at the time, she got different reactions. Angel tended to awkwardly rub the back of his neck and try to say Wesley only wanted her to be happy; Gunn would go into a slightly unsure diatribe about how he wished he had been there to help Wes. Lorne usually hugged her and gave her comforting words, made her giggle and feel better. Oftentimes though, it was Spike who merely offered a quiet and solid shoulder to lean on, and it was those that made her feel all the better. Spike seemed to understand that sometimes, no matter who said them, words couldn't help.
=====
Towards the end of June they found themselves outside Shanny's Diner; Angel and Spike sped inside with their collars over their heads, smoke furling at their heels in the afternoon sun. The five of them seated themselves at the counter on the barstools, and were met by Karen and Simon, wearing aprons and carting around trays of soda to the few patrons left over from the lunch rush.
"Hey!" Simon nearly dropped his tray waving at them with his injured hand. Karen stalked over to him and took the tray from him, hurrying to a table and setting it down. "You guys still need'ta sign my cast."
After some prodding from Simon, a pen was passed around and they all signed. Karen looked at it from her spot and lifted a brow. "Your parents are going to think you're hanging out with a biker gang. Fred, Spike, Angel." She snickered, and Simon bapped her on the head with an empty tray.
"By the by, this here is Winifred Burkle, our friend that your sis helped out last month." Spike nodded beside him at Fred, who sat nudged between Angel and the blond vampire. She waved a little bit.
"Name's Karen, the skinny one is Simon."
"I'm not THAT skinny..."
"You could do to put on a few pounds." Gunn snickered, sipping the soda that Karen had brought them.
Simon scowled.
"So how long 'til you all are going back to California?"
Angel shrugged a little at Karen's question. "Probably soonish. Lorne has some contacts who say it's been pretty quiet since we left, actually. But that could be a trap, so we'll probably stay longer."
"Cool, you guys'll be here for the Fourth of July."
Lorne piped up. "I'll see if I can get ahold of any of my pals in the 'biz. See if anything's up in LA."
Angel smiled. "Good plan, let's go with that plan."
From the back room came Shannon with a cooling apple pie in one hand; she felt around the counter and placed it in a little glass dome. She smiled in their general direction.
There were introductions, Fred clasped Shannon's hands and thanked her profusely. There were jokes made and apologies on the loss of the gang's friend, Wesley, Shannon offered fresh pie, on the house.
"So I have to ask, where did that Illyria person go when you came back?" asked Shannon after pie had been doled out accordingly.
"I don't know. I don't remember having her in my body- well actually I wasn't in my body at all, I don't think- but I never met her. I have no idea. Maybe another plane..." Fred trailed off, looking thoughtful.
"So long as she's gone, yeah?"
Fred nodded at Spike. "Definitely. But you know, I've got a few theories... Angel, you told me that Illyria was liquifying my organs... Well even though I'm back, how am I not still physically dead? I should be considered a genetic miracle if that's true."
Angel paused. "Hadn't really thought about it. You're eating okay, and you've got a pulse and heartbeat, right?"
"Well yes, but I'd really love to run some tests. I think maybe Illyria did something more than take over my body. I think she did something to my organs other than melt them."
"This is the weirdest conversation ever."
"Shush, Karen."
"Well, I don't know enough to make any kind of educated guess, I'd need facilities and X-rays... But we don't have the Wolfram and Hart resources anymore. But I did manage one test this morning in the shower." She twiddled her thumbs briefly, as if standing on the edge of an idea.
"I have gills."
There was a pause.
"What?"
"I hadn't noticed them at first." She peered over at the lone couple dining in a booth. "But they're there, just behind my ears! They get more prominent when introduced to water, but when they're dry they're hardly there." Fred lifted her hair and pulled the cartilage of her ear down a little bit, revealing a thin pink slit behind her ear. "I hadn't felt them because usually I forget to wash behind my ears, but this morning I DID! First I kind of freaked out because, wow, gills right? But my theory is this!"
She pulled out her notebook and pen, completely ignoring the gaping stares and confused looks from her comrades. She opened up to a page and drew a small diagram of a human form, not particularly detailed but recognizable; she drew in random blotches to act as organs.
"My hypothesis is this: When Illyria took over my body, she liquified my organs and replaced them with organs that SHE knew. You guys said there was a picture of her in the book; I think when she took my body, she really did make it a 'shell', but filled it with more than just her essence, also her body parts! If I could get inside that sarcophagus and see if she was put away with her organs in canopic jars of some kind..."
She looked very intrigued, despite talking about her own body; excited even. The others looked largely horrified. It seemed to Fred, however bizarre it might be to believe one's internal organs had been destroyed and replaced with new, alien ones, the concept of such a scientific marvel was clearly overpowering the possibility of a freak-out.
"And... you're okay with this?" Angel asked.
Fred wilted a little. "Well, no, but... If it's true, and the gills are definitely pointing in that direction, then I'm going to have to live with it, aren't I? I'm still me, I'm back to being me, that's what really matters, right?" She closed her eyes, taking a breath.
"But how are you dealin' with the fried up insides? Y'can't be that pleased about it." Spike cocked his head a bit towards the side.
Fred shrugged. "Whatever's wrong with me... I'll have to deal with it. The least I can do is figure it out before something bad happens. If my organs have all been replaced, well I don't know... That's why I need to find a place to run a few tests-"
Spike cut her off. "There is nothing wrong with you, pet. You're just a bit jumbled on the inside. M'sure there's more than one demon doc' in L.A.; when we get back, you take a visit to one and see what they say."
Lorne nodded. "He's right, you can go to mine, nice guy, big Sinatra fan."
"How do you know he's trustworthy?"
"Angelcakes, Doctor Rob and I did a duet with 'All That Jazz' when I had the flu. I've never sounded better when congested, and he's clean, can't carry a tune like he carries a stethoscope, though." Lorne grinned, dropping his sunglasses down on his nose. Karen giggled.
Gunn still looked incredulous. "You seriously have gills, girl?..."
=====
"Sir, we believe we've found the vampire."
There was silence in the Wolfram and Hart CEO's office. The man continued quietly, deliberately, gauging his words carefully.
"Sir, Doctor Sparrow from the Upgrade department, he informed us of an energy signature that had previously been in the building. From that we managed to trace the energy it left behind, but it abruptly stopped shortly after we began tracing it. Several weeks later it reappeared again, and it's moving."
The one speaking, a lithe man in his thirties in a pinstripe suit and horn-rimmed spectacles, held up a print-out. "Doctor Sparrow informs us that it's the energy signal that the Old God called 'Illyria' left behind in the building. He believes that the Old One was with Angel and the others, and that they were conspiring together. The signal is moving across Arizona, slowly, but if it continues on the course we've projected; it's heading this way."
The man in the chair was quiet for a moment, steepling his fingers before himself on the desk that had once belonged to the very man he was hunting.
"See what else you can find out about this Old God, any information at all, get it. Check all the files that survived the damage they caused. And send someone to track that signal, so we don't lose it again."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, Trevor. Bring me up his contract again, would you?"
"Right away."
When Trevor had left the room and the door had clicked shut behind him, a body stepped through the wall behind the CEO's desk. Its glasses were askew, and it looked tired beyond its years. The man heaved a nonexistent sigh.
"Oh calm down. You act as if you have something to lose from me looking at your contract. You can't even lose your own life."
The CEO laughed, cold and terrible.
=====
"Alright then, Mr. Big-in-the-Britches. You owe me twenty bucks, pay up."
Spike grudgingly doled out the cash to Gunn, who looked smugly around at the Fourth of July festivities. Booths had been set up seemingly overnight all down main street, people had brought out their own grills and lawn chairs and set them up on the sidewalk. It truly looked as if the town had been painted red, white, and blue in honor of the holiday, as every single booth was bedecked with banners and sparklers. There was a chili cook-off going on in the town square and neighbors were setting up blow-up pools for the toddlers, who wandered around with their respective parents wearing massive Uncle Sam top-hats and clutching American flags in their meaty fists.
Spike, who had been bone-dry sober since their arrival in Cromwell, immediately located a booth selling Coronas just as the sun finished dipping below the horizon.
"Y'can't blame me for thinkin' this town was gonna be pretty dull, pigeon." Spike popped the bottle cap open with his thumb and took a long drink, looking pleased as punch.
Fred laughed, tucking into a chili-dog. "Well I tried to warn you, small southern towns are good at going all-out for Fourth of July. You should see it in Texas."
"Oh I can only bloody imagine. But I've learned my lesson, pet, no more betting that small towns don't know how to have a good time. Oh bugger, look," Spike pointed towards Shannon's diner, where Lorne had set himself up for Karaoke; with various sparkling lights from fireworks and sparklers in the evening, his skin was hardly noticed with the addition of his fedora, and he was belting out 'Sweet Home Alabama' to the joy of a fairly impressive group of onlookers.
Angel stood awkwardly on the edge of the crowd.
"Peaches don't look too happy."
Fred's mouth curled into a small grin. "I think he's worried about Nina."
"That werewolf girl? Bloke can't be too worked up over her, can he?"
"Well he likes her, more than he wants to admit anyway. Plus since the Wolfram and Hart building's all kablooey apparently, he's not sure if she's been able to transform safely. But he's afraid to contact anybody we're close with in case they've been tapped. He won't let me call my parents either." She took a large bite of her chili-dog; splattering the topping down onto the pavement, she giggled.
"Mm. How're you doing, anyway?" He handed her a napkin, then snagged several more from the booth they leaned against, in case of further spills.
"Better. I've been thinking..." she paused, suddenly very interested in her food. "Thinking he's at peace. I really hope he's at peace."
Spike looked thoughtful, peered down the neck of his corona. "You know," he muttered, weighing his words. "I had a friend, who died, and by some mad circumstances this... mate of mine came back. This friend, told me that where she had been while she was gone, she'd been warm, loved, at peace. This friend hadn't been perfect, but she'd gone someplace good."
Fred looked up at the sky, dark and dotted with stars, lit up on occasion by the crackling fireworks. "Buffy?"
He nodded.
"Thank you, Spike. I know she means a lot to you, and for you to tell me that... It means a lot to me."
"Mm... Don't go telling everybody about that, though, death isn't all sunshine and butterflies. I'm unliving proof of that. So hush hush." He pressed a finger to his lips.
They'd spoken on and off about past loves while she tinkered in the lab late at night, looking for a way to help him. Fred had mostly griped about teenage flings, since her love life had been thrown away with the journey to Pylea. She knew bits about Buffy, more about Drusilla, and the occasional sneer when he mentioned someone named Cecily. He knew about various boys on the high school lacrosse team and Charles Gunn.
"Lorne told me you don't want Buffy to know you're alive. Or, not alive alive, but solid, and not fried extra-crispy," she blurted, tossing napkins in the trash.
Spike snickered, rolling his eyes. "Guess cabbage-head can't keep his lip shut. Nah, don't wanna be a bother to her. She's got another life now."
"What if she misses you?"
He was quiet for a moment. "I don't think she does. And I reckon I've got a bit of a new life as well. As terribly annoying as our dear peaches is, the rest of you lot aren't so bad. Good company, and all that, scenery's pretty good." He gestured with the Corona bottle across the street.
Fred patted his shoulder. "I don't think she knows what she's missing, then."
It was such an honest-sounding statement from a girl whom Spike had thus far never known to lie to a friend. Were they friends? He considered her a friend, anyway. Smiling, he raised his bottle to her. "Cheers, pet."