Well, it's finally here!!! Chapter two is now completed. I decided not to raise the rating yet, but it still might happen, so keep that in mind. Thanks to those who provided feedback for the first chapter; I appreciate it! I hope everybody enjoys this next chapter.
Illyria was absolutely furious. After the incident with Fred's parents, Wesley had been refusing to talk to her. And she needed him to be cooperative if she was to carry out her plan. It wasn't as though she had truly done something wrong; surely this girl's parents did not wish to hear the tale of Winifred Burkle's fateful end. Although admittedly sparing the feelings of two insignificant mortals had not been Illyria's true purpose. Still, she had only wanted to experiment. But now her test subject was avoiding all contact.
Out of nowhere Illyria sensed a fist flying at her head. She, of course, ducked out of the way and spun around to see the blond vampire standing there with a smug grim on his face.
"Caught you off-guard, eh, Blue?"
Illyria's eyes narrowed dangerously. This insolent creature dared question her abilities. Even with her reduction in power, she was still the most powerful entity he had ever seen. Still, insolent as he was, she rather enjoyed defeating him in fights very much.
She straightened very quickly and without warning threw a series of punches at Spike before executing a low kick that swept him off his feet, causing him to land on his ass rather painfully.
"Whoa, whoa, take it easy!" Illyria was fighting with a particular level of energy and viciousness. "You don't have to be so touchy."
"Surely you are not so easily defeated, vampire," Illyria contested. "Or do you no longer wish to fight me?"
Spike jumped back to his feet and positioned himself in a fighting stance. "Love, I am nowhere near finished."
The two began exchanging attacks, and Spike found himself slowly backing down the hall resulting from Illyria's speed. This would not do at all.
A harried-looking employee was quickly approaching the fight with a briefcase in one hand and a coffee in the other. Spike took a quick second to calculate, allowing Illyria to land a particularly nasty punch in the meantime. Shouting an apology to the startled worker, Spike swiped the briefcase out of his hand and continued swinging it until it made contact with Illyria's head.
Had Spike looked back, he might have noticed that the source of his newest weapon was now on the floor, covered in coffee, and looking dangerously close to tears. But Spike was not looking at him; he was looking at her. Illyria looked absolutely shell-shocked. She couldn't believe the vampire had gained the upper-hand, even for a second. Illyria realized with a start that it had not occurred to her that, for the first time, the two were not confined to an empty room. Of course environment would come into play. Instead of blaming the lapse of judgement on herself, Illyria lamed this, too, on Wesley. His behavior was driving her to distraction, causing her slight, very slight error.
Never one to be outdone, Illyria resumed her former attacks with ferocity. Spike, who was still frozen, staring at Illyria with amusement at her expression, was caught more than a little off-guard when the fight unexpectedly resumed. All of a sudden, various objects as well as fists were flying past his agile form. It was all he could do to stay on his feet.
As the two maneuvered down the hall, Spike briefly noted a "Caution: Floor Wet" sign hurtling past his head. He cocked an eyebrow before ducking to avoid a flying computer. He spun around and chucked a cushion from a sofa at Illyria before tearing down the hallway. He viewed a bucket on the floor and picked it up so he could execute the same move that he had with the briefcase. He noted that it felt rather heavy as it flew toward Illyria. So heavy that it startled him, and the bucket flew out of his grip. It sailed through the air before hitting Illyria square in the head.
Illyria was knocked right off her feet and onto the floor where she quickly realized that she was now a wet, soapy mess. The bucket which Spike had so thoughtfully chucked at her was the water used to clean the floors. And it was cold!
Illyria was so maddened that her reflexes increased tenfold, and Spike was suddenly sailing through the air until he came to an abrupt stop when he hit a wall. The wall seemed to take more damage than Spike, though, as he was only dazed, while the wall was practically beyond repair.
Spike stood up, shook his head, and did a double take at the state of Illyria. She looked slightly like a drowned rat, that much was true, but at the same time she looked really...hot. The skintight suit did nothing to camouflage her tight nipples, hardened at the sensation of the freezing cold water. Spike opened his mouth to make some comment or other, but Wesley chose that exact moment in time to come out and see what the hell all the commotion was about.
At one look at Illyria Wesley forgot his silent treatment before questioning what the hell had happened. Illyria swept over to him, grabbed one of his hands and placed it on her left breast.
"Spike made me wet."
Spike nearly choked at the unintentional double-entendre, but he was nowhere near as surprised as Wesley, who remained frozen for one intangible second before jumping away from Illyria as though she had given him a rather unpleasant shock. And perhaps she had.
Wesley could not deny that Illyria was attractive, even in his never-ending depression that fact was blatantly obvious. How could she not be? When she had stolen Fred's body? And being pressed so intimately to that so-familiar body reminded him far too much of the nights the two never had.
"You should be more careful," Wesley said carefully, before making his retreat.
Illyria let a sound of frustration pour from her lips before storming away from the idiotic vampire and his childish antics. What could have possessed him to do such an idiotic thing? Well, at least she had won the fight.
Angel appeared behind Spike so quickly that it eerily imitated some of Spike's entrances during his incorporeal stage. The previous scene had not gone unnoticed by the head of the company. Spike turned to face him, and Angel raised his eyebrows in question.
"Were you two fighting?"
"She win again?"
"She's a lot to handle, but she's hot."
"What?" exclaimed Angel. "What about Buffy?"
"What about Buffy?" asked Spike with a smug look on his face.
"Well, you...she...I...uh..." Angel's words faltered off into nothingness before he shook his head in disbelief and headed back toward his office.
Spike followed him only a few feet behind, now determined to thoroughly annoy Angel for the rest of the afternoon, since Illyria was clearly through playing. Spike couldn't wait to see the exasperated expressions Angel often exhibited in his presence. This would be fun.
Illyria was extremely upset at this latest turn of events. Though she was no longer wet, the feeling seemed to linger, Wesley seemed even more intent on avoiding her, and placing Wesley's hand on her breast had evoked a strange feeling that was a combination of carnal human need as well as something else.
The look in the man's eyes had been almost too much to bear. It saddened Illyria, though she was not sure why. She had never held any sympathy for the creatures of feelings that walked the earth in this time. But Wesley's look was painful to behold. A small part of her wanted to leave the man alone, to let him suffer in peace and cause him no more pain.
But that part was small, and it was easily ignorable. Illyria would certainly not quit her pursuits after one small incidence. After all, she had questions that needed answering, and they would no longer wait.
I hope you all liked it. The next chapter will be up as soon as I can manage, but I have midterms. :-( But I'll try to be as quick as possible. Please review!!!!!!!!