“But Spike died a year ago.” There was a furrow between the red eyebrows.
“He came back,” Illyria explained. “He was my pet. He amused me.” Her eyes secreted moisture beyond that necessary for lubrication. “Now he is dust.”
The warrior stared at Giles. “Did you know?”
“Well…” Giles averted his eyes.
“The slime-mould Andrew knew,” Illyria revealed.
“So you did know. And nobody told Buffy?”
“There were, ah, circumstances…”
“Told Buffy what?” Three females had entered the room. The shell knew two of them. Faith, holding a weapon, and Willow.
Illyria adopted the shell’s form. Willow’s eyes widened. “Fred?”
Continued in Conversations About Dead People