webhosting   Cheap Reseller Hosting   links    free hosting by fateback   hosting reseller   100WebSpace offers 100MB Web Space

What Dreams May Come
By MeriBeth

Chapter Eight:  
The slam of the office door caused Wes to jump. He dropped his pen and turned toward the sound. Fred stood just inside the door, the book he’d sent her for clutched in her arms and tears running down her face. “You’re crying,” he said softly. “What happened?”

Fred leaned on the door. That slight, raspy edge Wes’ voice now had always gave her goosebumps. She stared at him for a moment, trying to force herself under control. She didn’t know why, but she wondered what it would be like to hear him whisper to her, to hear him call her name in the night. The changes in his voice only made it sexier to her. “It’s nothing. I just had a . . . um. . .a talk with Charles, that’s all.”  

“Is everything all right? He didn’t hurt you?” Wes shifted back in his chair, eyeing her for a moment. “You’re rubbing your wrist.” 

“Really, it’s nothing.” Fred crossed the room to her usual chair across from him. Leaning forward, she handed the book across the width of the desk, returning her attention to the laptop he had her doing a search on. As she scanned the results of the search, she again returned to rubbing at the dull ache in her wrist. She stifled a scream when Wes laid a hand over hers.  

“He hurt you.” Wes didn’t give her time to respond, just lightly tugged her hand toward him. “You don’t need to help me with this if your boyfriend doesn’t want you to. I’ll understand.”  

Fred jerked out of Wes’ light hold. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she snapped, rising to her feet and pacing to the farthest corner of the office from him. “He never really wanted me. I was just a prize to be won. Proof that he was a better man.” Fred glanced back at Wes, wrapping her arms around her waist. “He had no right. I just want to help.”  

“No, he didn’t. And I certainly wasn’t condoning what he did,” Wes murmured as he came up behind her, resting his hands on her bare shoulders. Turning her toward him, he sighed. “I didn’t mean to anger you. You can help me whenever you want. You’re the only one who really spends time with me.” He pulled her closer, holding her gently. “I’m sorry you feel that you were a prize. I never meant to do that to you.”  

Fred shifted, uncomfortable with being this close to Wesley. The last time he’d actually held her had been when he’d slammed her into that wall and kissed her. Sure, he’d grabbed her arm or hand and kept her out of danger, but had never just held her. She debated with herself. She liked being held by him, but she worried too. Worried that he would think her a slut for liking this, being in his arms. Fred lifted one hand, resting it on his chest, intending on pushing away from him when that ring of his, his signet ring, caught her attention. She knew that was what it was now and wondered why he wouldn’t let her give it back. “You never made me feel like a prize. You made me feel whole,” she whispered.  

Wes stopped his absentminded stroking of Fred’s hair at her soft whisper. After a full minute spent absorbing that statement, he resumed the motion, enjoying the feel of her hair under his hand. He allowed his mind to wander off his quest for a moment, savoring the feel of her in his arms. He trailed one hand over her shoulder to cup her cheek, stroking her lips with his thumb. He felt her tremble as he dropped his other hand from her shoulder to her waist. Not allowing the doubts to enter his mind, Wes allowed his eyes to half-close, lowering his head to kiss her.  

Fred shivered. Wes’ caress surprised her. She’d never expected him to do something like that. To touch her as if she was something precious, something he never expected to have. She watched his eyes, seeing them drop from hers to her mouth. For a moment, she stood still, trapped by his embrace and the temptation. “No,” She whimpered. “Don’t, Wes. We have work to do.” She felt him tense and slowly dropped her hand from his chest, feeling him sigh as she did so.  

“Yes.” Wes dropped his arms from her, slowly turning back to the desk and the books piled on top. “You’re right. I need to find exactly where he took Connor without contacting Sahjhan.” Recrossing the room, Wes settled back into the chair, picking up his pen and returning his attention to the book in front of him.    

Chapter Nine  
Wes forced himself to concentrate on the research before him. It was exceedingly difficult to determine where Connor was, much less how to get there to get him. He had a very bad feeling that he did know. It was just something he didn’t really want to consider. Such a trip was dangerous enough for someone at full strength. As emotionally and physically weakened as he was, there was no way he could hope to succeed.

And then there was Fred: sweet, adorable, and so very trusting. Wes raised his eyes from the book to look at her seated across the desk from him. He watched her for a few moments, watched as she raised her hand to brush her hair back, his ring glimmering in the light from the desk lamp. He wondered if she had any idea how much it meant to him to see her wearing that ring. It made him wish that it were real. That the symbolism implied by that ring, by the very fact that she was wearing it, much less where she was wearing it, actually meant something. He couldn’t keep her in the dark about it anymore. Not now, not with this looming before him.   

Setting aside the pen, Wesley clasped his hands together on top of the book lying open on the desk. “Fred, may I ask you something?” He spoke softly, as he often did now so as to not strain his still healing voice. When she looked up, a questioning look on her face, he smiled. “Why do you wear it there? I mean the ring. Why do you wear it like that?”  

“I want to.” She blushed, looking back at the laptop’s screen. “When you were in the hospital, it made me feel better. As if you were with me.” She shook her head, unable to look at him, not wanting to see if he thought her crazy. “When you wouldn’t let me give it back and gave me that note, I just kept wearing it. It’s comfortable, like it’s supposed to be there.” Forcing herself to look at him, she sighed, “Does that make me crazy or something?”  

“No, not crazy.” Wes leaned against the desk, rising slowly to his feet, and circling it to her side of the room. He knelt on the floor in front of her, looking away for a moment to gather himself. Reaching out, he caught her hand, rubbing his thumb over the ring. “I wore this for a very long time. Then I felt I had no right to,” he said, raising his eyes to look at her. “I started carrying it again not long before we attended the ballet. I had forgotten that I was carrying it until I saw you with it.”  

“Wes?”  

“Shh.” Wes continued his stroking of the ring. “I wanted to give it to you, tell you how much you meant to me. Just seeing you wearing it like this makes me wish that you really were mine.” Dropping her hand, he rose, pacing across the office to look out onto the lobby. “I have loved you, cared for you, for quite some time now. I know that you just left Gunn, so I’m not going to press the point. I just want you to know what your wearing that means to me.” Turning back to face her, he took a deep breath. “There was a time when your wearing that ring, especially where you are wearing it, would have meant that we were engaged. I was raised with that expectation, that I would give it to my fiancée until she had chosen what she wanted for an engagement ring.” Wes could see her surprise and confusion. “I know that you don’t think of it that way, but I had to tell you. Will you keep wearing it?”  

Chapter Ten:  
Fred stared at him, shocked. She had never even considered the fact that she was wearing his signet ring as if it was an engagement ring. That certainly explained Cordelia’s veiled comments about how she hated bridesmaid’s dresses. She dropped her gaze from his, hearing him release a breath and start to move back to the desk.  She stared at the ring on her hand, listening to the creak of the chair as he settled back into it. Her mind raced, trying to make sense out of the past two months.  

Slowly, as she tried to get her whirling mind to settle, she realized that it went further back than the last two months. Wesley had watched her for some time. She could vaguely recall his concern over her during that time she hibernated in her room while Angel was away. She definitely remembered the way he’d accepted her rambles, never rolled his eyes at her no matter how odd her comments. She sighed, her mind flitting forward to the night he’d invited them all to dinner at his apartment, the night before he stalked her through the hotel. Fred smiled softly at the memory of his shy little half-smile when he watched her during the times he thought she wasn’t watching.  

That memory led to others, flitting through various times. From him stepping between her and that creepy lawyer to the way he swept her into his arms during that shoot out at Caritas to him protecting her from Darla. Fred couldn’t believe how oblivious she’d been. Wesley had always, always looked out for her, and protected her. Sighing softly, she allowed other memories to surface, from their fateful ballet night. Wes’ hands, soft and gentle, as he draped her beaded shawl over her shoulders, sharing a secret smile as he almost caressed her skin before stepping away to speak with Gunn. That smile he’d given her as he complimented her. If she recalled correctly, he’d called her a vision. More than that, she recalled the almost dead tone to his voice when he told her to stay with Gunn. A tear slipped from her eye as she remembered how he had begun withdrawing after that, hibernating in his office, constantly working on the prophecy about Connor. She wanted to cry as she remembered how she’d tried to fix him up with Aubery, that woman who’d worked for Holtz.  

She shuddered, raising a hand to brush away the tears, the metal of the ring cool against her skin. She pulled her hand away slowly, finally acknowledging that it had always been Wesley she’d wanted. The thought of losing him that night at the hospital had shocked her to her soul, as if she was losing a piece of herself. She closed her eyes for a moment, shuddering as she remembered that fear and the sheer joy of his touch when he’d clasped her hand in his hospital bed. Slowly, very slowly, she opened her eyes, smiling at him across the width of the desk, heedless of the fact that she was still crying silently.  

She held her hand out toward him, laughing softly. “Aren’t you going to ask right?”  

Wes’ head came up sharply at Fred’s question; to say that he was startled would be an understatement. Wes stared at her for a moment, then chuckled. Rising from the chair, he circled it to lean on the desk, smiling at her. “Do you want me to?” Wes murmured softly. Taking her soft, trembling smile for a yes, he reached out a hand and brushed away the tears on her face. Sliding his hand over her arm to clasp hers, he again stroked the heavy gold ring as he shifted off the desk to kneel on the floor in front of her.  

Fred shivered at the unintentional, or maybe it was intentional, caress. Silent, she watched him, wondering what he was doing. She couldn’t quite believe that she had asked him to propose properly just minutes after leaving Charles. Then she gave a mental laugh, considering that by his own admission they’d been engaged for two months. She had every right to ask for a proper proposal.  

Wesley clasped Fred’s hand with both of his own, holding it loosely and alternately stroking his ring or her pulse. He thought rapidly of all the things he had wanted to say to her, the things he’d so often told her in his dreams, yet none of it seemed to fit this young woman who held his heart. Stroking her wrist, a long ago memory suddenly surfaced, words he’d heard spoken by his tutor to his sister’s nanny when the tutor had asked her to marry him. The phrases echoed in Wesley’s mind, enough so that he knew he could make them what they were supposed to be: a spell, a binding spell.  

Looking up at Fred through his lashes, he drew in a breath and channeled that bit of himself that he hadn’t used in so long, pulling forth the magical training the Council had given him, pouring the power and the emotion into the question. "I give a gift of myself to thee. Take it freely; freely it is offered, and forever thou hast me in thy keeping. I swear love unto you and pledge you my troth. May those who watch over love watch over this oath and those who keep it, and may we never find fault in their eyes.” Drawing another breath, he smiled softly at her. “Would you do me the tremendous honor of consenting to be my wife?“

Chapter Eleven
Fred smiled, nodding as she leaned toward him. “Yes,” she whispered. She reached out with her free hand and cupped his cheek, smiling as he leaned into the touch. She leaned closer, her eyes settling on his lips. She wanted to taste him, to feel those lips against her own. “Kiss me? Please?” 

Wesley dropped her hand, shifting his own to tangle into her hair. He stared deeply into Fred’s eyes, seeing her love for him. Closing the slight distance between them, he carefully brushed his lips over hers, a faint, light caress. Pulling back for a moment, Wesley smiled, and then settled his lips firmly over hers, kissing her deeply with all the passion he had kept hidden for so very long. 

Fred moaned softly, leaning heavily against Wesley and clutching him to her. She wanted more than that kiss. She wanted to feel him against her, his hands on her body. As he pulled away, nibbling softly on her lip as he did so, she whimpered at the loss. “Like that?” Wes asked softly, trailing his hand down her cheek. 

“Oh yes.” she breathed. “Wesley?”  

Wesley chuckled softly, slowly releasing her though he didn’t want to. He wanted instead to touch and taste, bind her to him. He knew it was too soon, too early for that. He didn’t want to leave her with only a memory of him. No, after it was over, then he’d do everything he dreamed of with her. “Shh, love. Soon. I promise.” He gathered her into his arms, resting his head on her shoulder. “Oh, God, Fred. I’m so afraid that I know how to find him.”  

Fred gasped softly, unsure of what he wanted. It didn’t matter though; she tightened her grasp on him, holding him. Her intuition told her that was what he needed, to be held while he sorted out what he needed to do. She managed, barely, to contain the shiver and the moan that threatened at the feel of his breath on her neck. “Can you tell me?” she whispered, nuzzling his hair with her cheek and stroking his back. Fred felt him nod, then start to shift away from her a bit. Loosening her grasp on him, she felt him sit back from her, settling on the floor and dropping his head into her lap. She threaded her fingers through his hair, stroking it and trying to let Wesley know that she was there for him. After several long moments, during which he luxuriated under her soft, gentle touch, Wes began talking, telling her everything that he had discovered in the last few weeks and the horrible conclusion he had reached in the process. 

Chapter Twelve:  
“Angel told us that Connor and Holtz jumped into a portal to Quortoth, what Sahjhan called the darkest of the dark worlds. It’s not a world. It took forever for me to remember where I knew the name. It’s a variant, a rather obscure one, for the name for the center of Hell. It’s possible for someone to go there, to bring back the body and soul of someone wrongly condemned.” Wesley took a deep breath, clenching his hand on his thigh. “I found the references.” He tilted his head slightly to look up at Fred. “I can do it. But I need a couple of things, things that I can only get one way--from the Council.” 

Fred bit her lip to avoid interrupting Wesley. He needed to talk this out, explain. She had thought there was a reason he had her looking up classical literature. Now she knew; it was to get ready for this, this quest. 

Wes stared at Fred, silent, then looked away again. “I called them yesterday. They gave me forty-eight hours to decide if I could agree to their conditions. If I do, I can get Connor back, but I feel like I’m selling my soul. I don’t know if I can do it. Do what they want.” 

“What is that?” Fred asked softly, almost afraid to interrupt but desperate to know what this Council wanted from him. 

“They want to raise Connor, to not give him back to Angel,” Wes said, in a barely audible whisper. “The High Council knew of the prophecies, knew what was likely to happen, yet they are more afraid of what will be unleashed if Angel does raise Connor for they all speak of Angel murdering his mortal child. Connor’s death, no matter when it occurs, will bring about the apocalypse with Angel, or more accurately Angelus, on the side of evil. Yet, when asked, one of their most accurate seers told them if Angel doesn’t raise the child, it negates the prophecies.” Wes drew in another breath, burrowing further into Fred’s lap. “I can understand their fear, the fear of Angelus. I’ve found out about that on my own. They also want me to take up the role of Watcher again. To her.” He shuddered, closing his eyes as the memories, never far from his mind, crowded forward again. 

“Who, darlin’?” 

“Faith. They want me to watch Faith.” 

Fred tensed, unable to believe that these men would do such a thing to Wesley, ask him to be Watcher, a term she barely understood, to a girl currently in jail for murder. She continued stroking Wes’ hair, tangling her fingers in the curls, and occasionally stroking the back of his neck. “Can you do it alone? Without them?” 

“I thought I could.” Wes drew in a deep breath before continuing, “Then I had the dream. Last night, it was so real. I tried it and failed. I lost not only Connor, but you.” Wes allowed the tears that he had held in check since the previous evening to flow, dampening the jeans that Fred wore. “I don’t think I could handle that, losing you. It was so painful to see you with Gunn, to know that you chose him. But I could live with it. You were still there; I could still see you. But this, he killed you when you tried to protect Connor from him and then he taunted me with my failing to defend you.” Wesley wiped at his eyes with a shaking hand, slowly turning so that he could look up at Winifred. “Could you do it?” he asked softly, staring intently into her eyes. He could see her confusion and her worry.  

“Do what, Wes?” Fred replied to his question with one of her own, not understanding what he was asking of her. She kept her eyes on his, somehow knowing that keeping that connection was important to him, and waited for his response.  

“Could you raise a child that wasn’t you own?” he asked gently, quietly. “More than that, could you do it in front of the child’s father?” Wes looked away for a moment, sighed and then returned his gaze to her, “And if I agree to the Council’s condition, could you essentially be mother to Faith?”  

Fred stared at him in disbelief, unable to truly process what he asked. Then she put it together. Rather than send Connor away to this Council, he planned to do it himself. Raise Connor as his own, here, in Los Angeles. Fred closed her eyes, ducking her head, and drew in a breath. She felt Wesley shift, pulling away from her, murmuring that he was sorry he’d asked. Her heart wrenched and she looked up, reaching out to catch his wrist before he could move away. She waited until Wes looked at her, surprise etched on his face and in his eyes. “I can do it.” Fred took another breath, gazing up at him, smiling. “I love Connor as much as I would a child of my own. I miss him dreadfully. You bring him back to us.”  

Fred rose, crossing the small space between them to wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head on his chest. “I love you, Wesley. I have for ages, it just took me a while to realize it.” She tilted her head back, looking up at him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help you with this. Just promise you’ll come back to me.”  

“Always,” Wesley murmured, dropping his head to kiss her. “I’ll never leave you.” Wes rested his cheek on her hair, strangely relieved now that this was out of the way. He felt her snuggle into him and wrapped his arms around her waist. He needed this, a brief moment to escape everything, everything that was building around them. How long they stood together, he couldn’t say but the sound of the door slowly being opened caused him to release Fred and step back to see who had come in.  

Chapter Thirteen:  
“Cordelia,” Wes stated flatly. “What is it?”  

“Nothing now.” Cordelia glanced between them, sensing a tension in the room, and noted how they were, even now, holding onto each other, and Wes’ clasp on Fred’s hand so tight that Fred’s fingers were turning white. “I had a vision. About Connor. I thought you would want to know.” As she watched the couple in front of her share a look, Wes nodded and then turned to her.  

“Yes. Thank you.” Wes drew in a shaky breath and slowly released his grip on Fred’s hand. “Could you ask the others to assemble in the lobby? Once you tell us, I’ll,” Wes broke off, but a gentle squeeze on his hand by Fred caused him to continue, “I’ll tell you what I’ve discovered.”  

“You can get him back!” Cordy squealed, whirling away and slamming the door. Fred and Wes shared a long look; both of them sighed and then turned for the door.  

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Fred asked softly. “I mean. . . . .”  

Wes raised his free hand, pressing a finger against her lips, quieting her. “I have to, love.” He watched the understanding dawn in her eyes and smiled at her. He chuckled softly, kissing her quickly, and reached for the door. He paused, staring at her. “Do you want them to know?”  

“Know what?” Fred asked, frowning slightly as she stared at him.  

“About us?” Wes asked quietly, slightly worried about her answer. Her gentle smile and soft laugh answered him, relaxing him as he prepared to face the people he had disappointed so greatly.  

“I won’t keep us a secret.” Fred smiled, rising on her toes to kiss him lightly. “Shall we?”  

Wes nodded, opening the door, and waited for her to exit the office. Fred blushed, for it had been so long since someone had held a door for her. She ducked her head and slipped out the door, tugging him after her. Wes forced himself to remain calm as they crossed the lobby floor to join the rest of the crew in the middle of the room. Though he tried to release Fred when Gunn glared at him, she refused, tightening her clasp on his hand and tugging him down to sit beside her on one of the other sofas. A long, awkward silence started to develop in the lobby, broken by Angel’s angry voice snapping at Wesley.  

“Cordelia claims you can get Connor back.”  

Wes nodded, drawing a steadying breath. Dropping Fred’s hand, he rose, beginning to pace the lobby as he started to talk. “I’ve located a ritual that will allow me to retrieve Connor. The majority of the materials for it are fairly common, easily purchased here; however, there are two things that I can only get from one source. That source has agreed to help provided that certain conditions are met.” Wesley paused in his recitation, stopping his pacing and leaning heavily on the sofa behind Fred.  

“Before you ask the question, I checked. I have to have those items.” Wes bowed his head and closed his eyes. “One of the conditions is easily dealt with, difficult for me and perhaps you, Cordelia. I think we can handle it. The other is a sacrifice, a very personal one, from you, Angel.”  

“What kind of sacrifice?” Angel’s voice was flat, laced with anger.  

“Connor.” Wes’ reply was also flat. He knew in his heart Angel wouldn’t agree to this, to giving up Connor.  

“No one is having my son,” Angel growled. “You can tell this source that and then get my son back.”  

“I can’t.” Wes stared at Angel, hoping that Angel would see reason. “I looked at everything. There is no other way. I did manage to get the source to agree to allow Connor to remain here in Los Angeles. You have to give him up, all rights to him, publicly attend a ceremony giving Connor to someone else.”  

Wes watched as Cordelia laid a hand on Angel’s arm. He thought that was the only thing that kept the vampire from attacking him. Fred’s hand came up to rest on his, a brief, light caress, calming him again.  

“Why, Wes?” Cordelia asked, breaking the developing silence. “Why does he have to give up Connor?”  

“And to who, English?”  

“Why? That’s easy enough: the prophecy.” Wes sighed, shifting so that he was perched on the arm of the sofa beside Fred, absently stroking her hair. “It doesn’t matter when; no one knows that. Only that if Angel raises Connor, he will kill him and in so doing bring about the apocalypse with you, as Angelus, on the side of evil.” Wesley looked away and was surprised when Lorne handed him a bottle of water. He smiled gratefully at the demon, sipping at the drink, feeling it ease some of the ache in his throat. Recapping the bottle, he tried to determine what to say, finally realizing that there was no easy way to say it. “As to the who, I convinced them to allow you to give him to me.” 

“What!” Angel roared the word, crossing the room and reaching for Wes’ throat, intent on killing him. Everyone was surprised when Fred rose, shoving Angel and managing to knock him to the floor. 

“Leave him alone!” Fred kicked Angel in the ribs. “Would you rather Connor be taken away completely, to New York, London? Somewhere you’d never find him again? At least with me and Wes you could see him, play the doting uncle if you wish.” Fred glared, uncaring that everyone, including Wesley, was staring at her in shock. “Didn’t even stop to think about what the other thing was, did you? No, it’s always you. Everything has to revolve around Angel. You don’t care that he’s risking his life to get Connor back. All you want is Connor, now. You’re worse than a child being told no.” 

Wesley reached for Fred, but she shrugged his hand off, glaring at the remaining members of the team. “And the rest of ya’ll are no better. Constantly nagging as to when he’ll magically make Connor appear. No one asked how he felt, came to see Wes at the hospital. Not a word of any kind. No, it’s all make Angel feel better, Angel lost his son. Wesley almost died!” 

“It’s all right, Fred.” Wes spoke quietly, catching a hold of her and tugging her toward him. “Shh, love. I understood.” 

“No, you didn’t,” she muttered, shaking her head where he held her against him. “I was there. I heard the nightmares.” 

Wes tightened his hold on Fred, stilling her and rocking them both gently as he watched Angel climb off the floor. The vampire was still glaring at him, but Wes was now used to that. He did, however, see the unspoken question, knew what it was, and dropped his head to rest on Fred’s hair, smelling the faint scent of her lavender shampoo, allowing it to relax him before he addressed that question. “The source is the Council. In return for their help, I have to agree to be Faith’s Watcher again, effective immediately. They will arrange for her release, in such a way that there will be no charges of any kind against her. She’s to work for us, here.” 

“No!” Cordelia’s sharp retort echoed in the lobby. “I refuse to work with her. Not after what she did to me.” 

Wes stared at the young seer, shocked, and felt Fred start to turn on her. This time, however, he felt more than justified in snapping right back, “You refuse? Shall I call the Council and tell them that their help isn’t needed?” Wes slowly released Fred, unaware of how his voice had dropped, or the menace that now laced his tone. “Oh, no, Cordy. I think I’m the one who has to decide this. Or have you forgotten that I spent hours at her mercy?” 

Wesley glared at the group as a whole, unable to believe how selfish they were underneath their giving exteriors, all of them but his Fred. He tilted Fred’s chin up so that he could kiss her, a passionate kiss full of longing, slowly releasing her and smiling at her. “Darling, could you see to it that the lobby’s cleared out? I need all the furniture removed and the floor cleaned. I have a call to make.” 

Fred smiled, blushing slightly, and nodded, watching as he walked back to the office. She knew, just from the way that he was moving, that he was dreading the call that he had to make, the devil’s agreement he had to sign in order to save Connor. As she stood there, she made a decision. When he got Connor back, she was demanding that the baby be properly baptized, holy water and all, and that his name changed. He was their son now, not Angel’s.

Chapter Fourteen:
Wesley closed the office door, leaning back against it and forcing himself to remain calm. Luckily the call was a local one, not to London almost eight hours ahead of LA time. He still couldn’t forget Collins’ visit to the hospital, the quiet message the man had given him. More than that he couldn’t forget the fact that the Council had known what he attempted to do and supported his decision, even his father. That had been the greatest surprise he had gotten: his father’s support. Seems nearly dying had one good outcome. He’s finally lived up to his father’s expectations. 

Straightening away from the door, Wes crossed the room to drop into the desk chair. This was still his office, a situation that still surprised him. Shaking his head, feeling the slight pain of the still developing scar tissue, he lifted the phone, slowly dialing the number from memory. Hearing the phone picked up, he didn’t wait for a greeting, just spoke quickly. “It’s on. Have Faith brought to the hotel. She can bring the things I need in with her.” 

Wes listened, then laughed softly. “It is odd.” He fell quiet again, looking up to watch Fred bullying the rest of the team in the lobby. “Could you pass a message to London for me?” Receiving an affirmative reply, he chuckled softly. “Tell the Council that my fiancée is Winifred Anne Burkle, late of Texas.” 

Wes held the phone away from his ear for a moment, valiantly containing his laughter at the sputtering from the other end of the line. When the sputtering had settled down, Wes chuckled. “She may not be from one of the old blood families, Collins, but she has talents all her own. I figure they need to research her, sort out her clearances and the like. Tell them I won’t keep secrets from her. That almost destroyed us once. I won’t lose her again.” 

Wes leaned back in his chair, shifting a couple of books so that he could prop his feet on the desk. “No, I won’t.” He listened for a moment, and then blushed. “Collins, no, I won’t tell anyone things like that. You should know that by now.” 

Wes watched through the window, managing to somehow contain his laughter at Fred’s wild gestures and the way she was manipulating everyone into moving furniture out of the lobby. “I know the risks. They’re greater than those of working for a vampire.” A long moment of silence, broken only by the barely audible sound of Collins’ voice on the other end of the line, enveloped the room. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

Wesley slowly lowered the phone, cradling it and staring at it in wonder. He still couldn’t get over how things had changed, even the Council’s attitude. Nearly getting decapitated apparently went over well with the Council, though having the Chairman of Special Operations backing you also helped. That was the strangest thing; something that was so hard for him to accept was that now, after all this, his father accepted him. His father. Wes closed his eyes for a moment, then again reached for the phone. This time, though, he dialed a London number.  

“Hello, Mother. It’s Wesley.” Wes smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “I’m fine. Winifred takes very good care of me.” Wes’ gaze returned to the woman in question, watching her as she playfully shoved Lorne toward a chair that needed moving. “I need to speak to Father. Is he free?” He closed his eyes, waiting, with a bit of trepidation for his father to pick up the phone. 

“Father.” Wes spoke, trying to keep his voice even. “I received your message. Yes, I agreed to their terms. Collins should be calling at anytime.” Wes closed his eyes, sighing. “That wasn’t why I called. I asked him to pass a message along for me, then realized I should tell you myself.” Wes paused, blushing slightly at his father’s retort. “Yes, sir. I wanted to inform you that Winifred has consented to marry me.” Wes waited, expecting a lecture; the quiet response that he received instead was a true surprise. “Thank you, sir. Yes, you too. Tell Mother. Oh, I shall. If I cannot, I’ll have Winifred call for me. Of course.” 

Again Wes cradled the phone, this time staring at it in open amazement. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. It would take hours for Faith to get here, even longer to gather the supplies he needed. But the preparations were well underway; he could relax for a few minutes, secure in the knowledge that Fred would see to it that the lobby was prepared for what was to come.

Chapter Fifteen:
The moment that the door closed behind Wesley, Fred whirled on the remaining members of the Angel Investigations team, laying a firm hand on Lorne’s arm when he tried to sneak away. “Don’t even think it, Lorne. You’re helping too.” She stared them all down; gathering her thoughts, she then started issuing orders with the quick, biting commands of a military drill sergeant. “Gunn, Lorne, Angel, you move the furniture out. There are a couple of first floor offices that aren’t being used; it can go in there. Cordelia, go to the supply closet and get the cleaning supplies.” Fred waited a moment and no one moved, just stared at her. 

“That wasn’t a ‘do it when you feel like it.’ I meant now,” She all but yelled at them. “Oh, I get it. You’re all too good to do the dirty work to prepare things for Wesley. No, you just want the results, no help for setting it up.” She gave the group one last glare before turning away, attempting to drag one of the couches across the floor, muttering, ”Typical Californians,” as she did so. She hid the smile as both Gunn and Angel jumped to their feet to help her, Angel glaring at Cordelia until the other woman went on her assigned errand.  

For the next hour, Fred cajoled, bullied and charmed the men of the team into removing all the furniture, even the weapons cabinet, from the lobby. She hopped up on the counter, surveying the room. Cordelia had given her a dirty look when it came time to start cleaning the floor, snapping her fingers at Gunn and getting the young man to give her a ride home. It had taken all of Fred’s control to not say what she was thinking, to instead sit here and plan how she was going to tackle the floor. Finally, she gave a nod, jumping down from the counter and crossing the lobby to the elevators where she had left the mop and bucket.  

It may have been years since she had actually mopped a floor, but Fred hadn’t forgotten how. It only took five minutes for her to have everything together and ready. Without thinking about it, she began to hum as she worked, uncaring as to the fact that she had a two-person audience, Lorne on the steps and Wesley in the now open office door. As she worked, backing her way across the lobby toward the office, she gave in to the temptation, singing the lyrics to the song she had been humming.  

Baby, I don't understand
Why we can't just hold on
To each others' hands
This time will be the last
I fear unless I make it all so clear
I need you so

Lorne watched Fred from his perch on the stairs. He could see how happy she was. The girl was practically glowing. Lorne hadn’t seen that particular glow around Fred since the day that the girls had gone out shopping for the ballet. Fred had been subdued when she returned from the trip, uncertain and almost depressed.   

He had kept quiet, watched from above as she teased Gunn about coming out of the office, saw the way she forced herself to be happy. Then she had, for a brief moment, lit up as Wesley draped her shawl over her shoulders, the pair of them sharing a secret smile. And the way she had reacted to Wes’ compliment, it was obvious that she was in love with him. Well, obvious to me, at any rate, Lorne thought.  

Now he saw that sparkle return to Fred’s aura. She had finally admitted to herself that she was meant for Wesley. No, it’s more than that. Lorne stifled the chuckle and the urge to run across Fred’s newly mopped floor to congratulate the pair that had just ducked into Wes’ office. I can’t wait until this crew hears that bit of news.  With that thought, Lorne rose from the stairs, heading up to his self-imposed job of cheering up tall, dark and brooding.

Take these broken wings
And learn to fly again
And learn to live so free
And when we hear the voices sing
The book of love will open up and let us in

Wesley smiled, leaning on the doorframe to watch Fred, listening to her soft voice singing. Here, for all intents and purposes, alone, she relaxed; there was nothing tentative about her singing now. He watched, smiling, for he never would have thought of her singing that. She would have been a child when the song was first on the radio; he’d been at Oxford.  

He stepped back a pace, backing out of the doorway as Fred came into it, having mopped her way into the office. She straightened, quieting, and started to turn. Wes laughed, placing a hand on her waist. “You sing beautifully, love,” he murmured in her ear, tugging her back against him. “You do realize that you’ve rather effectively trapped us in the office for a while.”  

Fred giggled. “That was the point.” She turned in his loose embrace to face him, draping her arms around his neck. “I thought we could spend a bit of time alone, before all hell breaks loose here.”  

Wes smiled down at her, backing into the office and closing the door behind them. “That, darling, is the best idea I have heard today.”

Prologue - Chapter 6 | Chapters 16 to 23