Disclaimer: I own nothing. Angel belongs to Joss Whedon.
A/N: This is a Wishlist fic that came from a promt provided by jaq_of_spades. The prompt was: "Sometimes, she has moments of Fred. Sweetness blows through her like a breeze, curiousity twinges, a bright, darting human mind ... but Illyria knows all, sees all, and Fred can only surrender in despair"
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.


Fred thinks she's back sometimes.

Almost anyway.

Moments - little tiny moments - where she rides the odd swells within the blue hollow emptiness that surround her like a wave inside a vast blue ocean (everything, everywhere blue blue blue. To blue to be real (is she real anymore), to be natural.).

Emotion - human emotion - that still desperately clings inside this shell (that used to be her body, that used to be hers and only hers; how precious, how coveted, that idea is now) the creature, the demon, the God-King can't seem to rid itself of. And when these feelings rise up she will grab hold and try to push her way to the surface.

Try with all the fierce determination to survive that got her through Pylea.

Try with that sharp intellect that would always jump through her faster than she could scribble it down with a marker.

Just keep pushing forward with the battered and bruised hope that one of these times it will work, someone will see - her boys will find a way.

But they don't. No handsome man comes to save her from the monsters this time.

Because this time the monster is inside of her (or what little is left of her is inside of it) and Illyria knows all, sees all - can tell when she reaches out (so close sometimes she thinks, so close. Did Spike notice that time?) and it takes less than a thought for her to be swatted back. Power so immense it was once deified barely finding her an irritant, not even recognizing her as strong enough, aware enough, to be registered as still living (which makes her doubt her existence as well - is she dead? Is she just a collection of memories of Fred?).

But she knows despite any pain, any doubt, that she will try again next time.

(What else is there left for a ghost inhabiting it's own body to do?)