-rippers_game- ((Personal Journal Entry, 11/11))

I write this into the journal that once belonged to Wesley Wyndam-Pryce yet now is my property.

I do not understand why humans feel the need to document everything as they do. It is repetitive. Once the event has transpired, there is no point in making useless remarks upon parchment.

Yet I feel compelled to do so nonetheless.

I have read Wesley's remarks about myself and Fred once more and noticed he inserts his feelings amongst the facts. There are many blank pages in this journal which I intend to fill the same way, then, if that means I might better comprehend it all.

To start with, I am upset that my Qwa'ha Xahn was murdered by Wesley.

I am jealous that the kill of the dragon was not mine as it should have obviously been.

I am lonely, save for my games of skill and Spike who can no longer speak to me.

Traces, remembrances of the emotion known as "love" swim from the inner recesses of myself and I am confused.

Anger fills me when I think of the mortal who is now my foe - who Wesley has kept information hidden from me, thinking perhaps that I might strike out on my own to avenge my brothers.

My thoughts are jumbled, a mass of words that make no sense as I try to untangle the riddles hidden there. Looking at the previous entries by Wesley, the puzzle is still unresolved. He speaks - no, he writes - of a "demon". One who dissolves and melts the inside organs of the human host.

There is also one mention of Fred and her pain as she gave her body to me to use.

I am done writing for the moment. This is a pointless exercise. I do notice, however, the name that is signed at the end of each entry and I shall attempt to do the same.

- Illyria

-rippers_game- ((A Place Called Home))

I took the key out of the small pocket on the shirt I was wearing and pushed it into the lock slowly, turning it and opening the door to what was my temporary home while I sought out my new enemy. Now, thanks to Wesley, I knew it to be a mortal man, one of power true, but also one who possibly saw me as a threat.

Naturally.

I entered my "flat" and shut the door behind Wesley as he followed, then closed my eyes as I allowed the molecules to move, merge, shift until I was at last myself once more in the privacy of my home. Normally, such places would choke me, the walls closing in on me and yet somehow I had learned to ignore that sense.

Wesley looked at me strangely, but that was nothing new.

"You are wondering why I asked you here."

Statement, not question.

"There are certain things I have tried to comprehend, and cannot," I continued, as I found some water dripping from the sink and used it to feed Spike. "Hush now," I whispered to him, "for I shall always watch over you." I placed him back near the window and gestured to Wesley to sit upon the floor.

"I do not have any furniture, since I assumed my stay would not last long. Also, I can sleep standing upright."

I moved towards the television that accompanied my home and turned it on. "I do, however, have various 'games' of skill for you to test yourself, if you are so inclined." I gestured at my rather impressive collection. "I...spent currency on 'games' quite often."

This, however, was not the purpose in asking Wesley to join me. I walked towards the bed I did not require and picked up the journal I had laid there, holding it in one hand. "I have read this over one hundred times, yet I still am uncertain of myself and of your words."

Perhaps he could explain it to me. Or, perhaps he wished to have his journal returned...if that were the case, I would have to refuse.

It was the only thing of Wesley's that was truly mine, after all.

((Open to Wesley))

-rippers_game- ((Non-Journal, A New Home))

A door was opened and I held my breath as I stepped inside what they told me was a “flat”. It did not appear flat to me at all, rather more box-shaped, but I chose not to point that out.

Fred’s face smiled to the human and handed currency that would run out shortly. My latent memories of hers would rear their ugly head every now and then to confuse me – and sometimes they were useful. I had taken the currency Fred had in an “account” and used it to my advantage to take me wherever I felt the need to visit. Thankfully, it would assist me here in this place known as London while I tried to discover what had become of my brothers.
( Moving )

My eyes shut as I reached towards the source of the power, the energy, that had brought me here and I was shocked to discover how close it was. I needed to follow it, trace its origin somehow. I was uncertain if I would be able to do so with my now-limited powers, yet…it pulled at me nonetheless, tugging, tearing, speaking to me in songs I did not understand.

Molecules shifted within me and Fred’s clothing appeared once more, brown eyes that were empty save for the memories she had given to me and the new ones I had made moving about restlessly. I would discover this secret somehow, this destroyer of my world…else I would find someone who could assist in my pursuits.

A shame, truly, that I could not move about as myself, however. The Shell’s form was rather…itchy.

The door opened to me and I stepped out into this world, finally able to breathe once more.

-angel_afterlife-

"We can't keep Illyria Angel. She is a danger. Not just to the world, not just to me, but to Fred. She's already threatened her life."
"So what do we do with her? I mean...it's not like she's a puppy we can just return..right? She's powerful and...blue."

I stayed outside the office where the vampire had hidden himself and listened to their voices drift across the air as loud as a tidal wave crashing. They meant to kill me. Destroy me, yet again. I recalled with perfect clarity the moment they had stripped me of my powers, the machine Wesley held in his hands as the energies within me were pulled and torn until I was left alone. Weak. Pathetic.

I recalled my conversation with him as well.

"Illyria, this device will draw the energy away from you safely. It will allow you to live."
"Your intent is not murder."
"It never was."

Liar! He spoke words to me then meant to soothe and comfort, placate me so I might be twisted and molded into one of them. Yes, the truth of it is clear now...the sickness that he calls love has infected his mind now that she has returned from the grave.

Pity. He had been the one shining beam for mortals.

Now he spoke to the half-breed, our supposed leader, and was twisting words again, sharp as a dagger, so that the vampire might attempt to murder me. The Shell attempted to speak, but her words were broken and weak...again, my mind considered all the wonders I might have experienced if my essence had been placed within a proper vessel.

No. Now was not the time for reflection.

Now was the time to destroy the vermin.

-iftomorrow- ((The decision))

"You can't blame me anymore."

"Why not?" I countered.

"Because there is no time...not anymore! And there is no me."

Yet she stood before me, a ghost more real than I, who commanded not only Wesley's life but everyone here in the hotel. How could I ever truly live within this form when that would always remain? When she would? Her words meant little.

"Don't you dare run away from this...not when this is what you wanted."

Fred's hands upon me, moving me, pushing me aside as if I were but a twig to be trampled upon. "No..." The spell of the witch, it must be. There could be no other explanation as to her strength in which she released my hold upon Wesley.

"It is your life now, and your pain....but what did you say?"

"NO!" I could not release my hand from hers. We were intertwined and it would not break free...Wesley might very well perish before the both of us and I would not be able to assist.

"Pain is helpful. Most do not understand that it strengthens as much as punishes, yet I sense you do..."

"Do not use my own words against me. I have yours that lie within me for that purpose!" I wrested my hand free from hers finally, pushing backwards on unstable feet until I found myself somehow pressed against Wesley. The three of us connected by contact of skin upon skin, yet something else...some power I could sense yet could not place...

"Something is coming, something beyond me. Something I wouldn't have been strong enough to fight. It is the way I can accept...it is the only way....you are supposed to be here. Don't you dare walk away from that."

A challenge thrown down to me. To become something I am not. "I do not...understand." The words would not come from my throat, rather from the depths of my stomach, my soul, the place where Fred's heart had beat once. "Are you here, then, to task me with a mission? One that...we might not win save for the fact you are dead?"

If that were the truth, I would fight. A glorious victory, blood dripping from my fingers as it never would if Fred had been in battle. And while I would do it for Wesley...which...I was still uncertain as to why...

I would do it for myself as well.