Conversations About Dead People
“You didn’t even tell me.” The intensity of the glare that Willow directed at Giles was satisfying to Illyria. “Fred was my friend,” Willow’s eyes darkened, “and you just let her die.”
“And Angel. And Wes.” Faith showed her teeth. “Fuck you, Giles.”
Giles stood up very straight. “I had good reasons.”
Illyria had to use the shell’s memories to interpret body language. She determined that Faith was seething with anger and struggling to hold herself back from striking Giles. Willow crackled with energy.
“Good reasons?” Willow shook her head. “Color me stupid, maybe, but you’re gonna have to explain them to me really slow ‘cause somehow I’m not seeing how there could be any good reason for not telling me they were asking for my help saving Fred. And I never thought I was stupid.”
“That goes for me too,” Faith added. “You know what Angel did for me, what I did to Wes, what I owed both of them. I’d have died
for them, you know that, Giles, and you didn’t fucking tell me!”
This was all in accordance with Illyria’s plan. And yet somehow… unsatisfactory. The emptiness inside her was undiminished. The loss, and the pain, remained.