Disclaimer: I own neither BtVS/AtS nor Doctor Who. Also I make no money from this.
Once time had held no meaning to her. She had walked upon every era she liked, crossed universes like stepping over a threshold. She’d been a god onto gods.
When she was still god-king she had ruled it all: time and Space and every dimension she deemed worthy of her attention.
Today she was just a shadow, the height of her power gone, wrapped, no imprisoned in the shell of a human.
The shell of Winifred Burkle whom her Wesley had so loved.
And the emotions, the thoughts, the very essence of that girl had bled into her, contaminated her.
Bound and dependant onto lesser beings, to humans and half-breeds.
She had been so much more.
The Glory of her, the power. The mere mention of her name used to make entire universes tremble and rejoice.
What was left for her now? Of her former self?
Her Wesley was dead, as were the others. She was alone in a world where she no longer belonged.
She longed to make someone suffers, to do violence until those human feelings got washed off with the blood of her foes.
The battle was over though.
She had no where to go, no place to stay, no more anything. Her world was gone.
So was his.
So she called for the one she’d turned away so many millennia ago, the one to imprison her.
Emiited her need for his presence trough time and space, with the little power she had left.
Covered in the blood and entrails of the Demons that had slaughtered the remaining friends of Winifred Burkle, in midst all that carnage she waited.
The sound of the Universe they had called the sound of their machines.
Once she’d dreaded ever hearing it again. Today she relished it, welcomed it.
Her Wesley would have been proud of her.
That this soothed her also irked her.
And there he was, wearing a new face, stepping out of his tiny blue box.
They recognized each other. Their bodies may have changed but they were so much more than humans.
“Illyria, why have you called me? To rub this slaughter in my face?”
He sounded angry. She knew that rage. With it he had destroyed worlds.
Now it was focused on her, who stood kneedeep in the corpses of her emenies.
“I do not wish to argue with you Time Lord. This carnage was not of my design.”
She threw the bloody axe she’d still been holding onto the ground.
“this army would have slaughtered many of your precious humans. His precious humans. This is the battleground of heroes. My shells friends died here. All of them.”
Her cold blue eyes turned to him.
“You will not belittle their sacrifice.”
She could taste his confusion on her tongue.
“Why did you call? What do you want Old One?”
It cost her so much to do this, but it was what Wesley would have wanted. What would honour the previous owner of this shell. Winifred Burkle had been a warrior too.
“I… I am unsure of how to proceed. My kingdom is gone. My Wesley is dead. I feel Time Lord. I feel human emotions and I am unable to control them. The remnants of the shells previous inhabitant are alien to me. I am trying to adapt.”
She looked at him in that alien way, that Wesley found so unnerving.
“My power is greatly diminished. I was learning to life in this world. My guide is gone. My Wesley is dead and I am unable to stop the grieve. I want to do more violence. He taught me to know that as wrong. I am in need of another guide.”
Anew she looked him in the eye, her former nemesis, and her features showed many feelings while she still managed to look cold, but very sincere.
“I require your assistance Doctor.”
And the man who once had been clever enough to get her sealed away offered her his hand.
The leftover spark of Winifred flared.
On a deep level Illyria knew no one would ever be able to grasp her and her loss as accurate as the Doctor, the Last of his kind.
She was the only one of her kind too.