milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

A vampire steps into the bar, supporting a barely conscious human.

...It's not what you think

Getting over to a booth would be easier if Angel would just toss Wesley over his shoulder, but he figures his friend has been through enough already this night. So, instead, Angel takes his time getting over to the booth, then sets Wesley down gently before calling over a waitrat.

"Um, one of my usual please? And a Lagavul--," Angel stops as Wesley groans and presses his forehead with the palms of his hands, "--On second thought, water and a couple of aspirin." Nunzio the waitrat scurries away.

"Make that a handful of aspirin!" he calls a moment later as he sees Wesley wince again.

Angel shakes his head. The Powers That Be have one hell of a sense of humor.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Illyria is pretty much infinitely pleased with herself right now. She brought Wesley back from the dead and she got to kill things. She does, however, still feel more than a small twinge of concern for Wesley, so she heads directly over to their table the moment she walks through the door.

She still looks a complete wreck, honestly -- demon-killing is a messy business -- but she's practically beaming in spite of that fact. As much as she's capable of, anyway.

"Did I not tell you it would work?"

That is probably directed at Angel, since he'd only questioned her judgment about a thousand times.

Sometimes only a heavy sigh will do, but that's not easy if you haven't had an actual breath in over two centuries. He considers rolling his eyes--he's had plenty of practice doing that the past ten years. But, no.

He turns away from Wesley toward her and nods.

"OK. Yes. You were right."

If Illyria could get that one on the record books somehow, she would. As is it, she settles for continuing to look incredibly pleased with herself. That's not gonna wear off for a while.

Well.

As soon as she makes certain of one thing, first.

"Wesley?" she addresses him with quiet concern. "Are you all right?"

It's an imprecise question, and not exactly what she'd like to ask, but it's the way humans phrase their concern. It will serve her purposes.

Wesley's actual reply to that is unprintable, but rest assured it involves the Powers That Be and physical acts it's quite unlikely even They could manage.

Angel, having taken a seat in the other booth, silently nudges the aspirin toward Wesley with a cautious finger.

Illyria snorts.

"Very inventive. I do not think you even implied that about me when you were at your angriest."

She's impressed, which means she's also fairly certain Wesley's likely to survive this whole return to life thing. Satisfied with that fact, she pauses to address the matter of her appearance, and in the time it takes to blink no longer looks as though she's just fought her way out of something unpleasant.

"They probably figure it's a fair--."

Angel stops as Wesley looks up to glare.

"Um. Compensation."

Illyria looks slightly less pleased; it seems explanations are in order.

"I was warned that there would be a price. I made that clear when I attempted the initial spell."

She had mentioned it. She remembers having a small argument about it with Wesley just after the spell's failure. It is hardly her fault if no one paid attention.

Wesley's face eases a bit. "Hardly surprising. They never been in the habit of offering anything for nothing."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, then scoops up the aspirin and washes them down with the water in what seems almost one movement.

"So it seems I may have exchanged one form of servitude for another."

If Illyria is the tiniest bit stung by his remark, she hides it well. Her spirits are too high to be brought down that easily, though she is subdued when she speaks again.

"I had always assumed they would ask something of me. I was the one who spoke with their messenger. I made it quite clear that whatever they would demand of me I would accept."

Perhaps she reveals a bit too much of herself in this response, but she truly doesn't understand. She would never have played so unfairly with one that she wanted on her side.

"Yes. But you weren't the actual recipient of the favor," Wesley points out.

"It does sort of seem in character," Angel adds. "Except... giving you visions now that L.A. is a suburb of Hell seems a little pointless."

"I suppose everyone must serve a purpose in their eyes. It is not a bad way of operating," Illyria allows, since it doesn't seem like Wesley's unduly angry at her. At least she isn't going to have to yell at him in his first hour back among the living.

"I wonder what they are thinking? You two could hardly handle the dangers that Los Angeles threw your way when it was only a city."

... it could be that she should not have mused that last bit aloud.

That gets Illyria two glares.

Good job.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Angel grumbles.

"I did not mean--" Illyria sighs and starts again.

"It is only that it seems very inadvisable to give the visions to someone human. In the first place, Los Angeles is no longer remotely safe for humans, and in the second place, the visions are supposed to be deadly to any human who receives them for any significant length of time."

Illyria takes about a microsecond to realize what she's said before she's staring at Wesley in absolute horror. This cannot happen.

Angel is shocked too, but Wesley is rather strikingly not.

"You forget I possess the Gift. It may not make the visions any less traumatic, but it should be more than enough to cope with them over time."

"After all," he adds drily, "What fun would it be to bring me back, if I were only to be done away with again?"

"Are you certain?" Illyria asks, for once in the whole course of this entire plan sounding doubtful. She doesn't put it past the so-called Powers to do this thing purely for their own entertainment.

After all, the Powers had started off much like her, and she's not convinced they ended up all that different.

"Yes."

He turns to Angel. "It had been one of the few 'solutions' I'd found when I was trying to help Cordelia cope with them."

"Except, of course, for her it had not been a possible solution at all."

Illyria frowns; Cordelia had been deliberately misled by the one they'd named Jasmine. Illyria, of course, hadn't cared who she was dealing with when she thought it was only herself at stake, so she'd taken the emissary of the Powers at its word.

"I did not know," she says, softly and mostly to herself. She doesn't mean Cordelia. She doesn't care about Cordelia.
But she had never meant to be so careless when it came to Wesley.

Wesley manages a smile. "A very small price to pay, really."

"If only to be able to leave this place whenever I want to."

"Wesley."

Illyria enunciates his name in the tone of voice that makes it quite clear that a lecture is coming.

"You can hardly go back to Los Angeles at will until the city is no longer in its present state. It is not safe for ordinary humans and I did not go to all this trouble just to see it undone."

"There are other places than Los Angeles!" he protests.

"Come see out the Sunnydale Crater. Fun for the whole family!" Angel mumbles.

"But doors to our world tend to open there more often than not for us. I suppose there are always other Earths," she says, looking slightly doubtful. She's not really sure she trusts Wesley not to get into some kind of trouble on a perfectly mundane Earth.

"They still have these things called 'cars', you know." Angel gazes out the Window. "Cars...."

He hasn't been behind the wheel in months. He wonders if Wolfram & Hart would mind him borrowing the Viper.

You know. Sort of permanently. After all, it's not like they're using it, and letting a car like that just rust away would be.... criminal.

"Angel," Illyria says patiently, if with a touch of condescension.

"One does not simply drive out of Los Angeles."

... the narration apologizes, but Angel walked right into that joke setup.

Edited 2008-09-16 04:26 (UTC)

"You haven't been in the Viper," Angel replies with smug confidence.

Illyria ignores that and addresses Wesley.

"Is this what I am going to have to put up with now that he speaks to me on purpose?"

Because, you know. She's perfectly content to go back to avoiding Angel except when necessary.

Wesley strives mightily not to smirk. "I'm afraid that's quite likely, yes."

Angel, meanwhile, has progressed to leaning back in his booth, arms behind his head. "Yup. It's alll coming together now."

"You are very pleased with yourself, for all the complaining you did at having to perform the retrieval tasks I assigned you," Illyria scoffs. Angel hadn't even wanted to help her in the very beginning.

She cannot blame him much, though. Despite her earlier thoughtfulness, she's still very, very pleased, and if anyone's watching her closely, she probably looks more human in her expressions than she ever has when not specifically trying to pretend.

Angel waves that concern away. "That was just to keep you on your game."

He looks at Wesley. "Executive experience. It's all about managing people to do their best."

Wesley shakes his head.

"Managing people?" Illyria asks, fixing Angel with a sharp glare.

"And which of us has the greater experience in herding lesser creatures into doing our bidding?"

She's not above throwing you out another window when you get home, Angel.

"Enh, that's all ancient histor--."

"If I might interject," Wesley wisely butts in. "There remains the matter of the Machine itself. Have we made certain its components won't be recovered by any of the demon lords?"

"That depends on what you consider certain," Illyria says, looking slightly shifty.

"It is presently in a number of very small pieces in the basement of the Hyperion. An unavoidable casualty; they will not be able to make any use of what is left."

Of course, neither will anyone else, so don't die again, Wesley!

"Good. I don't know that any of the lords would have had the knowledge required to take advantage of it, but better not to give them the chance."

"Of course, we might now have a problem with something else. Or rather, someone."

"Someone in specific? Who?"

Illyria's eyes widen in interest rather than alarm -- she's still just a little bit into looking for trouble mode. It's what happens when a demon goddess gets on the equivalent of an adrenaline high.

"Vail."

"Assuming he somehow survived. And I'm more convinced than ever that he did."

Illyria snarls, casting a dark look at the door as though she's considering storming back through it. That might have not been the best thing to say to a still slightly murderous goddess, Wesley.

"He did not survive. And if he did, I will make certain that he dies as many times as necessary to get the message."

Her hand clenches on the table edge as though it were Vail's throat; it might be a good idea to calm her down.

"Uh, Wes?" Talk about bad segue...

"If he's out there," Wesley vows, "We will find him. And once we do--I have every intention of making what happens after that last as long as possible."

Angel would be especially alarmed by what Illyria seems ready to do to the table, but fortunately, he's too busy facepalming at Wesley.

"Good," Illyria growls more than speaks, showing teeth in a semblance of a murderous grin. Any of that humanity she was showing earlier? It's gone now.

She likes this plan a lot more than she rightfully should.

Heaven help everyone if Vail should ever find his way into Milliways.

"Wait a minute, you said yourself, you don't know for sure if he's out there."

"We took the Circle down, Wes. None of them got out."

"I did kill him with my own hands," Illyria says, calming somewhat at the thought.

But.

"But he was a master of illusory magic. And he laughed before he died. If Wesley thinks he is still in existence somewhere, then I would not dismiss the possibility."

"For those very reasons, finding him will not be easy."

"But he's arrogant too. That, and our patience, may be his doom."

"Patience?"

One can practically see Illyria wanting to stomp her feet and demand they start looking now. Can't there ever be immediate doom? For people other than her and her chosen allies?

"If he's still around, we'll find him," Angel says, his voice gone quiet. "We broke the Circle. I don't care whatever else has happened, it's going to stay broken."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only