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What Dreams May Come
By MeriBeth

Prologue  
Wesley clutched at his throat, one hand stretched ineffectually toward Justine as she set Connor into the back of his jeep before racing around the car to climb into the driver’s seat. As the tires squealed on the pavement, Wes allowed his body to fall to the dampening grass. He lay there struggling to stay conscious, knowing that if he allowed the darkness to claim him he would die.

“I've failed. Holtz has Connor. I betrayed my friends for nothing. I couldn't even keep my own word to defend the innocent. What's more innocent than a baby?"

The thoughts circled around themselves in his head, endlessly repeating. Wes could feel the cold damp of the ground affecting him, drawing him deeper toward the darkness. He struggled to find something to focus on, even as he felt his grip on his wound loosening. He was dying. He knew it. Yet he couldn’t give up--he had to live. He would make this up to all of them, most of all her.

“Winifred.”  

Chapter One  
Fred heard them coming, trooping in together, laughing. She didn’t know what the laughter was for but it irritated her. She whirled from her contemplation of the darkness outside, screaming, “Shut up! Just shut up. Don’t laugh.”

“Fred, baby, what’s wrong?”

Gunn reached for her, but she backed away, unable to stand being touched by him right now. He was laughing. Wesley could be dying and he was laughing. Before she could do more than open her mouth to speak, she heard her name being called softly from the doorway.

“Miss Burkle? Are these the people you called?”

For a very long moment, Fred was tempted to deny knowing them. Instead, she nodded once, crossing the room to join the doctor. At his gesture, she seated herself on one of the plush chairs the well-equipped waiting room had, watching him intently as he settled across from her.

“Miss Burkle, I’m Dr. Christiansen. I treated your fiancé when he was admitted and preformed the arteriorrhaphy. That’s. . . “

“I know what it is, Doctor. Please continue.” Fred spoke softly, ignoring the outraged snort that came from Cordelia and Gunn’s continual mutterings of fiancé.

“Very well. To continue, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce also suffered some laryngotracheal damage, though until we can remove the ventilator we won’t know how extensive the damage to the larynx is, if there is any at all. I’ll be honest with you, Miss Burkle. Considering the state he was in when he arrived, the length of the surgery and the extent of the damage done, I can only give Mr. Wyndham-Pryce a thirty-seven percent chance of surviving. It appears that he’s doing well at the moment, but this is a potentially fatal injury. Do you have any questions?”

Fred could feel the tears gathering in her eyes as her mind processed all the technical terms the doctor recited. She stared at the doctor during his recitation, slowly starting to shake, and was surprised to feel a strong, yet gentle hand placed on her arm. Looking over, she saw Groo crouched on the floor next to her. The look in his eye told her that he understood what she was feeling. Drawing in a breath and forcing herself to calm, she faced the doctor. “When can I see him?”

“Well, he’s in recovery now and will be moved to ICU momentarily. Once he’s settled there, I’ll have one of the nurses come and escort you. If you have no other questions, I need to return to the ER.” Dr. Christiansen rose from his chair at Fred’s headshake, leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind him. On his way downstairs to the ER, he paused to leave word with the ICU nurses that Miss Burkle was to be taken to her fiancé’s bedside when he was settled in the unit.

Fred, however, was on the verge of a breakdown. She had all she could do to keep the pain inside as the inquisitions began. At first the questions all ran together and she didn’t even try to answer them, just stared at the doors, waiting for the nurses to arrive. Fred was so lost in her contemplation that Gunn’s grabbing and shaking her caused her to emit a muffled shriek.

“What the hell were you thinking? You’re my girl, not Wesley’s.” Gunn still held her by both arms, his grip tight and painful.

“You’re hurting me, Charles. Let go.” Fred twisted a bit, rubbing her arms when he released her. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she moved nearer the door before answering. “I told them that so they’d talk to me. You couldn’t get out of here fast enough, Charles. So you have no right to complain.” The sound of the door opening caused Fred to turn away from her outraged boyfriend.

“Miss Burkle, we have Mr. Wyndham-Pryce settled now. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to him.”

Fred nodded once, heading for the door but pausing in the entrance. “Go back to the hotel. You can’t do anything here. I’ll call when I have any news.” Fred shook her head at the rest of the team, following the nurse down sterile hallways and into a small, dark room full of medical equipment. There, lying so very still, his throat swathed in bandages, was Wesley.

Fred settled into the one chair, absently nodding in reply to the nurse’s instructions to call them if anything changed, even though all of his monitor equipment was also connected to the main desk. She reached out slowly, clasping his hand in her left, a faint smile crossing her face at the ring she now wore, one that Gunn in his outrage hadn’t noticed. She stroked her thumb across the back of Wes’ hand, speaking in a near whisper, “I’m here, Wesley. I’m here.”  

Chapter Two  
It was warm here, peaceful. Wesley sighed, settling on the grassy hillside, drawing his legs up to rest his arms on his knees, then resting his chin on his arms. Yet for all that sense of peace, he wasn’t comfortable. He didn’t deserve this. How could he, a disgraced Watcher, be welcome here?

“All who believe are welcome, child.”

Wes didn’t move when he heard the soft male voice. Instead, he continued to look out across the rolling grassy fields, watching several small children run and play. “I failed in my duties. I tried to protect Connor, take him away to prevent the prophecy from coming to bear. Yet, my own inattention allowed her to take him. Take that sweet child to a man out for vengeance.”

“Did you fail?” the voice asked, “or did you place too great a burden on yourself?”

“It was my responsibility. I couldn’t tell Angel that he was destined to kill his own child. That would have destroyed him. No, it was up to me and I failed. I have to help Connor. Rescue him.” He tilted his head to look at the man who had settled beside him. “Even if it means bringing him back to his own death, no child deserves to be raised in the home of a man who only wants him for vengeance.” Wesley returned his attention to the children below. “I know what that’s like. I won’t subject another child to it.”

“So what do you want?”

Wes rose to his feet, turning away from the scene that had held him so enraptured. “I know that what I’ve done has lost me my family, the friends I had held so dear. Even if they do forgive me, they’ll never forget. Most of all, I have totally lost any chance I ever had with her. Bowing his head, he sighed. “I don’t deserve this, not until Connor’s safe. Whether he must die or not, Angel deserves his son. I have to find him.”

“So you would give up this,” the man gestured at the scene, “to save a child that isn’t even yours?”

“I swore to protect the innocent, to make any sacrifice to that end.” Wesley turned an earnest gaze onto the man beside him. “I would never truly be comfortable here, if I foreswore that oath. I have to go back, regardless of the pain I’ll suffer. Can you understand?”

“Yes, child, I understand.” The man held a hand out to him. “Come, I shall take you back myself.”

Slowly, with a longing glance at the scene behind him, Wes placed his hand in the other man’s, bowing his head and drawing a deep breath. “Forgive me? For my failings, for not seeing. I lost faith in everything.”

“Of course, child.” The man smiled at him. “Remember, my child, no one was meant to go through life completely alone.” The man watched as Wes took one last look behind him, then closed his eyes. Accepting this as Wesley’s way of acknowledging his words, the man gave a deep sigh of his own. This mortal child of his took far too much upon himself, yet that was what made him one of the best warriors in His cause.  

Chapter Three  
Fred returned to her seat beside Wesley’s bed. It had been almost two days since that night. She didn’t know what was worse: knowing that Connor was in a hell dimension or Wesley lying here so still. She was afraid, so very afraid that he would die.

The thought that Wesley wouldn’t be there anymore scared her in ways she hadn’t been scared since her first moments in Pylea. The sight of him, lying alone on the damp grass outside his apartment, had shocked her. For a moment, she’d been afraid that he was dead and then he’d taken a short, shallow breath. She could vaguely recall screaming for Charles at the top of her lungs, shouting at him to drive faster, and the panic that had set in as Charles left her alone at the hospital while going off to find Angel.

Leaning forward, she again clasped his hand. Other memories seeped into her mind, memories of how they had all unconsciously pushed Wesley away, she most of all. She’d gotten so wrapped up in her infatuation with Charles that she hadn’t seen how much her marked attentions to the other man had hurt him. Wesley had begun withdrawing then, subtly pushing them all away. Angel was so wrapped up in being a father that he hadn’t noticed, Cordelia had been away with Groo and she had so been involved with Charles that she hadn’t seen it, seen how Wes was slowly breaking down.

Now, she regretted every moment. It had been in these last two days that she had learned just how strained things had become between Charles and Wesley. She knew, deep in her heart, that it was because of her that things had reached this point. If Wesley had felt that he could still talk to her, maybe they would have been able to find a different way to protect Connor.

Even more than that, she missed him. Memories of pulling that crossbow trigger, the scream of Holtz’s man as he fell, the bolt imbedded deep in his back, haunted her. She needed to talk to someone about those events. She had tried to talk to Charles; however, he didn’t understand, understand how it still gave her the shakes to remember doing that. Wesley would understand, listen to her, and dry her tears as she cried.

She stared at their joined hands, her eyes settling on the ring that she was still wearing. That little piece of jewelry was the cause of her latest argument with Charles. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt closer to Wesley just wearing it. It seemed to carry a sense of him. Fred shook her head, wondering about the crest engraved on it. She didn’t want the heavy gold ring to be lost, so she had wrapped a bit of yarn around it so that it fit her hand. Looking at it, she smiled, feeling like a teenager again, wearing her boyfriend’s class ring.

All her thoughts came to a halt as she felt Wesley’s fingers shift under hers, tightening around her own. Fred’s eyes flew from their hands to his face, watching with bated breath as his eyelids fluttered for a moment before opening. His head slowly moved, drawing a deep pain-wracked moan from him as he sought her out. Fred rose to her feet, leaning over him so that he’d remain still. “Shh Wes, lie still. You’ve been badly hurt. I’ll go get one of the nurses.” His hand tightened on hers, his clasp so tight that the ring dug into her hand. “All right. I’ll stay and call one.”

Fred smiled. Wes was back. Everything would be fine again. She perched on the side of the bed, where he didn’t have to move to see her, paging one of the nurses and just staring at him. There was a shadow in his eyes, one that she hadn’t seen before. It seemed as if he regretted something and Fred wondered what.

Chapter Four  
Wesley watched the door to his room, waiting for Fred to return. Though the ventilator had been removed, he was staying in the hospital for another four days, until the antibiotics had run their course. They also wanted him to stay until they could be certain that there were no complications.

When the doctors had said that she had to leave while they examined him, he’d given her a list of things to retrieve from the hotel. He’d requested several books, hoping that they would have information that would allow him to track Connor. He knew he was missing information and this waiting was driving him mad. Fred had the details that he needed. He had, in their few minutes alone, noticed the way that she had avoided mentioning Connor. That more than anything bothered him. Sighing, he settled in to wait.

The door was nudged open, Fred backing into the room, arms full of books. As she turned toward him, he saw that she was carrying his old leather satchel as well. It was as she came closer, setting the books on the rolling table in the room, that he saw it. He raised an eyebrow, holding a hand out to her, and waited.

Fred stared at Wes’ outstretched hand and drew in a breath, laying hers in his. He closed his fingers over hers, tugging her toward him. She came as close as possible, eventually settling on the bed beside him. “What is it?” She looked away in order to set the satchel on the chair by the bed and was startled to feel him stroke the ring that she still wore.

“Wesley, I can. . . . “ Fred broke off when he carefully shook his head at her. Before she could ask what he wanted, he reached for a small pad of paper on the bed beside him, scrawling a note on it before handing the whole thing to her. She took the pad of paper a bit worriedly, looking at it and sighing. “Yes. I’ve been wearing it since you arrived here.” She reached down, starting to take it off, when Wes covered her hand with one of his.

Wes shifted in the bed, not wanting her to take that ring off, and snatched the notepad back. Grabbing the pen off the table, he began to write, occasionally raising his eyes to look at her, making sure that she remained with him. He hated this, not being able to talk; however, the swelling in his throat prevented that. He considered himself lucky to be off the ventilator. Shaking his head, Wes finished writing, tossing the pad back to her.

Fred stared at Wesley, ignoring the pad of paper in her lap until he leaned forward and tapped it with the pen that remained in his hand. She took a deep breath before picking it up and reading it. As she read, she began to shake her head. Finishing, she went back to the beginning and started over again, but the words hadn’t changed any from the first reading. “You can’t possibly mean this.” Staring intently at her, Wes nodded once.

Sighing, Fred looked away, staring at the pile of books on the table. “If you want, I will. I just don’t know, Wesley. I mean, why didn’t you say anything?” As he took the pad of paper out of her lap, she caught his wrist. “No, I don’t want to know. You had your reasons. Tell me why you wanted all of these.” Fred tapped one of the books on the table beside her.

Wesley smiled, understanding Fred’s need to put things off for a while. In fact, he was happier with that as he’d rather be able to talk to her than do all this note passing. It made him feel like a schoolboy. Turning a page on the pad of paper, Wes scrawled another note, handing it to her. As he watched her read it, he was shocked to see her start weeping.

Fred read over the note Wes handed her and burst into tears. She hadn’t cried at all since this mess had started and all she could do was sob. She felt Wes shift in the bed, then felt him pulling her toward him. She buried her face in his neck, unable to do more than cry.

Fred’s sobs tore at his heart, yet all he could do was hold her, stroke her hair and her back. Wes was so frustrated by the simple fact that he couldn’t ask all the questions running rampant in his mind. “Why the tears, sweet? What’s happened that hurt so badly, besides my actions?” Wes thought worriedly as he held her, rocking slightly to try to calm her. The sound of the door opening caused Wes to look up from where he’d been resting his head on Fred’s hair. He stared at the man in the doorway, his eyes meeting the angry ones of Charles Gunn.  

Chapter Five  
“Why’d you do it?” Gunn snapped. “After that lecture you gave me about betrayal, why’d you do it?”

Wes stared at Gunn, not surprised at the demand for answers. He wondered if he was lucky enough for Fred to have grabbed that book and the pad of paper he’d stuck in it. He tore his gaze away from Gunn to look at the books stacked on the table, absently handing Fred a tissue as he released her. She was looking back and forth between him and Gunn as if she didn’t understand what was happening. Wes smiled, tugging the book out from amongst the others, laying it on the bed and opening it to the pad of paper. Grabbing the pad of paper, he looked at it, sighed heavily, and held it out to Gunn.

Gunn considered the pad of paper for a moment, debating with himself. Then sighed--the man had taken a bullet for him. Wes should at least be allowed a chance to defend himself. Taking it from Wes, he turned his attention to what was written there. He stared at the words, first in what he took for Greek (at least it was Greek to him) and then in English. “This can’t be right. He’d never do anything like that.”

Wes glared at Gunn, snatched the pad back from him, flipped to a blank page and wrote rapidly on it. Wes didn’t understand why, but explaining all this to Gunn, and to Fred as she leaned over his shoulder to watch him write, made him feel amazingly better, as if the weight of the world had been taken off him. Finished, he handed the pad back to Gunn, waiting for the other man to read it.

Gunn, for his part, watched Wesley with intensity. He had noticed the way Wes would occasionally stroke Fred’s hand where it rested beside him on the bed. He didn’t know why, but the action worried him. Shaking his head, deciding that he’d talk to Fred about it later, he took the pad of paper back from Wesley. He read it through, reread it, and then stared at it as if waiting for the words to change. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Wes’. “You’re serious?” At Wes’ very careful nod, he sat heavily on the end of the bed. “Damn, English, why didn’t you say anything?”

“How could he?” Fred’s soft voice retorted. “When did any of us give him a chance to?” Fred reached up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Even you have to admit we haven’t exactly been friendly to Wesley lately.”

Gunn sat there, staring at the pad of paper in his hand. After several minutes, he tossed it on top of the stack of books and rose. “I gotta think about this. I mean it doesn’t make any sense at all.” Gunn headed for the door. Once there, he paused, looking back at the couple on the bed. Something about their pose and the way that Wes was again stroking Fred’s hand really worried him. “Fred, you want a lift? I can drop you at the hotel.”

Fred shook her head. “No, Charles. I want to help Wes with whatever he wanted all these books for. Maybe he can find Connor.” She lifted her head, staring at Gunn, and hoping that he wouldn’t push the issue. She wasn’t in the mood for another argument.

“Give me a call when you’re ready then.” Gunn nodded once at Wes, heading out the door. On the other side of the door from Wes and Fred, Gunn sighed. He knew that things had changed, that was a given, but he hadn’t expected this.  

Chapter Six  
Wesley sat in the jeep, staring at the Hyperion. It had been two weeks, two weeks since he’d set foot in the hotel and he was dreading going in now. In all that time, only Fred came to visit. Gunn hadn’t returned since the first visit and none of the others had bothered to show up. He sighed, one hand rising to the bandages on his neck. At least now he could talk. It hurt, but he could talk again.

He’d gotten nowhere with the books that he’d had Fred bring to the hospital, only managed to frustrate himself. After a couple of days, during which the police came for his statement and to return the jeep, he’d given the stack of books back to Fred to return them to the hotel. Now, he sat outside that very edifice trying to work up the courage to see the very people he’d betrayed. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. “This is getting you nowhere. You won’t find Connor sitting out here in the car,” Wes muttered.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Wes reached for the door handle and slowly climbed out of the jeep. Closing the door, he leaned back against it. He couldn’t enter that hotel. He was afraid of what would happen. He just couldn’t do it. As he stared at the building, Fred paused in front of one of the windows. He couldn’t be sure but it looked like she was angry with someone, arguing. As he watched, she raised a hand to rest on the window, the sunlight reflecting off the ring on her hand.

Wes tucked his keys and his hands into his pockets, ducking his head and heading for the front door. Standing outside wasn’t getting him anywhere and he needed details so that he had a better idea as to which books to look in. He hoped that he wasn’t going to get killed the minute he came in, that Angel would hear him out before looking for a weapon to kill him. With one more deep breath, Wes reached out and twisted the knob, opening the door to the hotel and stepping through.

“Wesley!”

Fred’s voice, coming from his left, caused him to smile briefly though he didn’t take his eyes off the people gathered in the middle of the room. Wes watched as everyone turned to look at him. Gunn’s expression was one of deliberate blankness while Cordelia, Angel and Lorne’s expressions all held equal parts of anger and betrayal. Wes stood there, refusing to move. He didn’t feel welcome and sure as hell didn’t know how to explain why he’d done it.

It was the gentle touch of Fred’s hand clasping his that brought him out of his paralysis. He wrapped his fingers around hers, automatically stroking the gold ring with his thumb. Tightening his grasp on Fred’s hand, he finally spoke, in a hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry. I did what I thought best.” When no one initially responded, Wes slowly descended the stairs, tugging a piece of paper out of his pocket and giving it to Fred.

Fred looked at the paper, reading it once, and dropped Wes’ hand. “All right, Wesley.” She moved around the counter, scanning the titles of the books on the shelves behind it. While she worked, she kept one eye on Wes who had come to stand by the counter. As she set one of the books he’d listed on the counter, he rested both hands on it. Fred could see him struggling with himself. She stood there, debating with herself as to what to do, when he turned back to the others. Fred moved to the edge of the counter, just in case.

Wesley leaned back against the counter, scanning the rest of the group. For a moment he was puzzled. If Cordy was back, where was Groo? Shaking off the question, he first addressed Lorne. “I apologize for hitting you. I needed to. . . . “  

“You needed?” Angel snarled.

Before Wes could fully shift his attention, he was slammed into the counter with enough force to knock the breath out of him. He whimpered in pain as Angel wrapped his hand around his neck, squeezing slightly and making his already painful wound hurt. “Angel,” he croaked.

“I need my son. And you allowed that bastard to take him. I should kill you where you stand,” Angel growled in his ear, face hovering over his neck.

Wesley closed his eyes, one hand scrabbling on the counter for purchase, the other reaching into his pocket. He heard Cordelia scream for Angel’s attention, likely thinking that he was trying to get a stake. No, Wes pulled out the dagger that Angel had given him earlier in the year, pressing the hilt into Angel’s chest. The position that Angel held them in placed the tip of the blade against his chest, just over his heart. “If you want to kill me that much, if you think that will make everything better, than do it,” Wes whispered softly, closing his eyes.

“You son of a bitch,” Angel spat, releasing Wesley so quickly that the Englishman dropped to the floor. “I won’t make it that easy for you. No, you’re going to live with this betrayal for a very long time.” He stared down at Wesley, watching as the younger man raised a shaking hand to check over his bandages.   

Chapter Seven  
Gunn glared at Fred as she came out of Wes’ office. He couldn’t believe her, prancing around here like it was nothing. Sure, for the most part they had forgiven him for what he’d done, but that was no reason for his girl to be spending all her time with Wes. To top it off, she was wearing that ring again. In fact, in the month since Connor had been taken, he’d never seen her take it off. It was really getting on his nerves.

“Fred?” Gunn called. “Babe, we need to talk.”

“All right.” Fred called back, heading for the bookcase to switch books. Wesley had an idea, one that he wasn’t talking about yet. He was almost obsessed with it, as much as he had been over the prophecy. She wasn’t going to allow him to get as bad as he had been then and insisted on helping.

Gunn crossed the lobby to lean on the counter, watching Fred scanning titles on the books. He waited, certain that she’d turn and look at him, but she didn’t--just kept right on with what she was doing. “Damnit, Fred. What’s gotten into you?” He stalked closer, towering over the shorter woman. “Why are you doing all this for him?”

“I’m not going to let Wesley have a breakdown like he did before,” She answered, tugging one of the books off the shelf. “I’m helping him with his project. I may not know what it is, but as long as I help, he should be all right.” Fred shelved the book that she carried out, putting it in the place of the one she had taken down and turned around, jumping a little at how close Gunn was standing. “Excuse me, Charles. I need to get back.”

“No, I’m not going to excuse you,” Gunn all but snarled, snatching the book out of her grasp to drop it on the counter behind him. He reached out and wrapped a hand around her wrist, dragging her hand up between them. “For that matter, why are you wearing this? You’re my girl, but you’re wearing his ring.”

Fred jerked her arm, trying to get Gunn to loosen his grip. “Charles, you’re hurting me.” She sifted through what he said and glared up at him. “I’m not a possession nor am I a girl. I’m a grown women who can make up her own mind.” She jerked her arm again, this time stomping on his foot as well. As his grip loosened a bit, she pulled her arm free, sidestepped him and snatched the book off the counter. “I’ll wear what I want to wear. Right now, it pleases me to wear Wes’ ring.”

“And what does that mean about us?”

“What us?” Fred retorted. “I am not a plaything, Charles. Nor am I a toy to be carted out when it pleases you to irritate Wesley.” She backed up a step, heading for the office behind her. “I figured it out weeks ago, while Wes was unconscious in the hospital. You used me. You just wanted to get me so that you could be better than Wesley.” She shook her head, finally allowing the tears from that realization to come forth. “I won’t be used like that.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Gunn shook his head. “Really, I mean. . . . “

“Don’t lie, Charles.” Fred glared at him through her tears. “You never made one real remark to me until Wesley started paying attention to me. Then you were all ‘let’s go to breakfast, Fred’; ‘let’s see a movie, Fred.’” She took another step back, bumping into the sliding doors, and reached behind her for the handle. “I was an idiot and a fool. I threw away my chance at a good man for you. Just to have you turn around and rub it in his face.” Fred felt for the handle, sliding the door open. “Charles, you never loved me, you just loved the idea of having me.” With that, she slipped into the office, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter 7 - Chapter 15