free hosting   image hosting   hosting reseller   online album   e-shop   famous people

What Dreams May Come
By MeriBeth

Chapter Sixteen:
Dawn, the start of a new day. Wesley could just see the sun coming up through the lobby windows. He shifted a bit, settling Fred a bit more comfortably where she lay sleeping. She was curled against him, or more accurately on him, one hand curled around his neck. Wes watched the sunrise, idly playing with Fred’s hair. A couple of calls, a few short trips out and he’d have everything, everything but the two things Faith was to bring with her.

In one sense, he was dreading seeing Faith. She represented his greatest failure, a time he dearly longed to forget had ever happened. Yet if she could try to redeem herself, how could he truly refuse a chance to be a proper Watcher? Faith deserved a chance to be a proper Slayer and his forgiveness. He had failed, but he had a chance to redeem himself now.  

Even now, eighteen years later, he could recall the scene so clearly. In all honesty, he’d been too young and sheltered to truly understand what he was committing himself to, but he’d done it. He still believed in the oath he’d sworn that dawn, a dawn very like this one. Closing his eyes, he allowed the memory to surface, even as he clasped Fred tighter. The words echoed in his mind, and silently he reaffirmed them, somehow knowing that the one that the oath was actually being sworn to was listening.  

I, Wesley Alexander Michael Wyndham-Pryce, Viscount Adare, Baron Adare, Baron Kenry, and Baronet Wyndham-Pryce of Aberdare, only son and heir to The Right Honourable Earl of Dunraven, having been found worthy to assume the position of Watcher by the Officers of the Council in due deliberation, do hereby solemnly swear eternal silence, faithfulness and everlasting obedience to all my superiors and to the regulations of the Council. I hereby renounce my own personal views, opinions and control of my powers and capacities. I swear to respect all, holding myself as a defender of the innocent. I also swear to consider the well-being of the Slayer above my own; to assist her in her war against darkness and the evil that hides within it. I swear that I am ready to serve the Council with all my goods, honour and my very life. May I be granted the strength to venture any sacrifice to uphold and protect the sanctity of life. Should I ever forswear this Oath in any way, I will submit myself to the judgment of the Council of Watchers, accepting whatever penalties with which my superiors may condemn me.   

“So help me God,” Wes whispered softly, repeating aloud the final phrase of the oath.  

“Wesley?” Fred asked in a soft, sleepy whisper, causing him to smile. She squirmed about until she could look down at him, echoing his smile. “Good morning.” She blushed, looking away at the mess of books and things in the office. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” 

“You needed the rest. We both did,” Wes replied, continuing his absent-minded playing with her hair. After several long minutes where he luxuriated in the feel of her in his arms, he heaved a heavy sigh. “We have to get up, love. There’s a lot to do before tonight.” 

“Don’t wanna,” Fred muttered, nuzzling her cheek against his chest and listening to his heartbeat in her ear. She was worried, not that she’d ever admit it to him. She was desperately afraid that something would go wrong tonight, that she’d lose him before she ever truly had him. Giving herself a mental shake, Fred slowly shifted until she was kneeling on the sofa, straddling Wesley. She smiled at down at him, then blushed, climbing off the sofa.  

As she rose, Wes caught her hand, sitting up and pulling her down for a kiss. “I don’t want to get up either, but we have no choice. We have to get these last few things done so that everything is ready for tonight.” 

“Why tonight?” 

“It’s the full moon. That’s the best timing we could have. The training I had puts me at my most powerful tonight.” Wes smiled at her look, laughing softly. “It’s all right, darling. I’ll be fine.”  Releasing her, he stretched, managing to contain the chuckle at her watching him do so, and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I hate to do this, but I have to run home to gather a few things from there. Can you handle things here?” 

“Of course.” Fred smiled, leaning against Wes for a moment then straightening. “I can handle them.” She chuckled softly, and then stood on her toes to whisper in his ear, “I’m a Southern girl, remember.” She nipped his earlobe with her teeth, and then shifted back away from him. “Scoot. I’ll catch a shower and keep an eye out for this Faith. Make sure the rest of them don’t cause problems.”

Chapter Seventeen:
A long, mostly fruitful day had passed and Wes slowly climbed out of the jeep in front of the Hyperion.  He sighed, circling the vehicle and opening the hatch on the back. Leaning over, he reached in, pulling out a plain black duffle bag and a small brown shopping bag. He took a single long, deep breath, locking the jeep and turning toward the door. He was shocked to find Faith sitting on the steps, a long, wrapped package sitting in her lap and a smaller one beside her. He stared for a moment, unable to speak. Then cleared his throat, speaking softly. “Faith?” 

“Wesley.” Faith nodded. “They tell me that you arranged this.” She waved a hand at the hotel. “Why?” She ducked her head, allowing her dark hair to veil her expression. “You made your opinion of me very clear.” 

“You want the truth?” Wes asked softly, watching as Faith nodded. Crossing the small space between them, he sat beside her on the steps. “Faith, I didn’t want to do this. I had no choice. I have to get Connor back.” He reached a hand across and tapped a finger on the package in her lap. “To get him back, I need this.” Shifting a bit, he turned to face her, cupping her chin and tilting her head up to look at him. 

“Faith, I may not like this, but one thing I have learned in the last two years is that everyone deserves a second chance.” He stared at her for a very long, quiet moment, “I’d like us to start again.  Can we?” 

Faith stared at him in disbelief. In all the time she’d been in prison, imagining meeting up with him again, she’d never, never imagined him quietly forgiving her. It was more than she expected, more than even Cordelia had given her. Unable to stop herself, she started to cry.  

Wes tugged Faith closer to him, pulling her head to rest on his shoulder. He stroked her back and her hair, letting her cry, for he had a feeling that she needed to cry. From what he had read about her in the reports, things he hadn’t paid attention to three years previous, she needed a chance to cry, and this was something he doubted she ever allowed herself.  

The soft creak of the front door opening caused Wesley to look up, smiling as his eyes met Fred’s. She stepped out onto the small flight of stairs, tugging the door closed behind her. Nodding her head at Faith, she asked softly, “Is everything all right?” 

“It’s five by five.” Faith sniffled, laughing as Wes produced a handkerchief from somewhere for her.  

Fred smiled at the other girl, and then laughed. “That wasn’t what I asked, but I’ll take it for an answer.” Shifting her attention to Wesley, she sighed. “They,” Fred waved a hand toward the hotel, “aren’t happy. They have decided that you made all this up as a twisted sort of revenge for them not listening to you for the last couple of months.”  

“Let them think it,” Wes snapped, releasing Faith to rise to his feet. “As long as they don’t think it here, tonight. We don’t need any bad vibes cluttering up the place.” Standing, he held a hand out to Faith, tugging her to her feet and gathering up the packages that he’d set on the steps. Flanked by both women, Faith still carrying the Council’s packages, Wesley entered the Hyperion Hotel, now intent on what needed to be done before moonrise.

Chapter Eighteen:
As he expected, he no sooner entered the hotel than he was bombarded with questions and demands from the remaining members of the team, save for Lorne. The demon took one look at Wesley, Fred and Faith, shook himself and fell silent. He actually backed away from the trio as Wes led the two women over to the counter. Wes set the duffle bag on the floor at his feet, the shopping bag on the counter beside him, and held a hand out for the large package Faith was holding. Faith gave him a questioning look, but silently handed over the package, which Wes set on the counter before unwrapping it. 

Undoing the intricate, almost stylized, knots holding the black silk around the object, Wesley drew in a breath, allowing the fabric to fall away from the contents: an elaborately etched sword. He stared at the blade for a moment, then traced the Celtic engraving with a fingertip. He could sense the power that the blade held, the knowledge that it bore while awaiting its proper wielder. Quietly, into a developing silence that he was barely aware of, he whispered the sword’s name. “Caliburn.” 

Rewrapping the sword, he again glanced at Faith, who in response handed him the other thing she carried: a small, wooden box. For a small moment, a bare second, he allowed a smile to cross his face before he shifted the mosaic tiles that made up the top of the box to reveal a compartment holding a small silver key. Tilting the box on its side, he repeated the pattern, with a slight variation, to expose the lock. Fitting the key into the lock, he twisted it a quarter turn to the left then fully to the right, listening as there was a pop-click sound before the box opened.

Both women leaned forward to see what was in the small box, and Faith actually started to reach for it, though Wes grabbed her wrist. Shaking his head, he watched, intent, as Fred trailed a finger around the rim of the elaborate silver-gilt chalice in the box, her eyes almost glazed as she did so. Wes watched her with a sad half-smile, knowing the legend that went with the chalice, hoping that the history wouldn’t repeat itself. After several quiet moments, where Fred stared at the chalice in rapt fascination, Cordelia’s shriek of impatience broke the silence and Fred’s almost trance. Ignoring Cordelia, Wesley addressed Fred. “She likes you.”  

“Yes.” Fred’s voice held a soft, dreamy quality to it. Though she was with it enough to smile a reassurance to Wesley. “Yes, she does.” 

“Good. That makes everything easier.” Wesley closed the box, relocking it, though he pocketed the key. Releasing a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, Wes slowly released Faith, apologizing softly to her. He glanced at the clock behind the counter, and then grabbed the bag off the floor, issuing a few orders of his own. “Faith, make sure no one touches any of this.” He caught the smile that hit Faith’s eyes at the trust that he showed her. Wes smiled back briefly before turning to Fred and sliding the shopping bag to her. “Remember what we discussed last night?” At her nod, he chuckled, “Set it up for me, love?” He took a step closer, kissing her slowly and deeply, and then released her, stroking his hand over her cheek, smiling as she leaned into his caress.  

Fred nodded, leaning against Wes’ hand. She knew what he needed and would make sure everything was ready exactly as he wanted. Nothing was going to go wrong; she’d see to it. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, and stood on her toes to whisper in his ear, “I’ll have it all ready. Use my room. I left something for you.” She waited until she felt him nod, and then released him, stepping back to allow him to head upstairs. She watched him go, ignoring the chorus of protests and indignant mutters behind her.

Chapter Nineteen:
Wesley climbed the stairs slowly, forcing his mind off Fred and the troubles downstairs. It was time to prepare for the night ahead, the ritual that demanded so much of him. He still kept one thing from Fred, the fact that it could cost him his soul. Looking back at her from the top of the stairs, he knew, knew in his heart that he hadn’t succeeded in keeping that knowledge from her. Even if he hadn’t told her, the Sangreal likely had.  

Shaking his head, he turned down the hall to her room, wondering what she had left for him. Standing outside the door, he rested a hand on the knob, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. Stepping inside, absently closing the door behind himself, he headed for her bed, setting the bag on it. As he did so there was a gentle rustling sound and he reached underneath it to pull out a sheet of paper. Opening it, he smiled, recognizing Fred’s distinctive handwriting.

Wesley,
I spent some time this morning reading while you were gone. I hope it's not presumptuous of me, but I left a few things for you in the bath. Beside the tub, you'll find a small bottle of bath oil; I think you'll like it. Also, there is a bottle of wine, something Momma sent me that I think you'll like. I kept it hidden up here, not wanting Cordy to take it. Finally, there are a couple of candles; I read that they would be a help to get you to relax.
Wesley, I believe in you. I know you can do this. I'll have everything ready downstairs, even if I have to kick everyone out but us.

I love you,
Fred

 Wesley smiled, refolding Fred’s note and tucking it into his duffle bag. Just the knowledge that she was willing to go to that sort of trouble to assist him made him realize just how rare and extraordinary a woman Fred was. More precious than rubies, if he recalled the quotation correctly. 

Rising to his feet, he carried the duffle with him into Fred’s bath. Setting the bag down, he lifted the small bottle of oil, opening it and smiling softly. The scent was Fred, pure Fred. He held the bottle, rolling it between his hands, then reached for the taps, turning the water on as hot as he could tolerate. Allowing the tub to start to fill, he tilted the bottle, allowing a small amount of the oil to trickle into the water, breathing deeply of the resulting scent.  

Capping the bottle, he set it aside on the vanity, pulling a few things out of the duffle bag; he set them aside for afterward. He then lit the candles Fred had set out, pushed the bathroom door closed and began undressing, trying to clear his mind of all the ways that this could go wrong. Instead he concentrated on what needed to be done, how to get it done and the end result, having Connor back. 

Satisfied that he had cleared his mind as much as he could while being as tense as he was, Wesley slowly settled into the tub, hissing at the heat of the water. He lay back in the tub, allowing the water to ease the tension in his muscles, especially in his long damaged back. Leaning back in the tub, Wes rested his arms on the edges, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to wander. As he expected the first thing his mind went to was his Fred, and he allowed himself a moment to wonder how she was handling things downstairs before pushing the thought aside. 

Chapter Twenty:
Fred watched Wesley climb the stairs, a somewhat dreamy smile on her face, before she turned back to the rest of the team. Glaring at all of them, she smiled at Faith, who was leaning back on the counter, obviously guarding the things Wes had left on top of it. Lorne had joined her, though he stood at the end of the counter, carefully avoiding the sword and the box holding the goblet. Fred reached between the two, retrieving the shopping bag and glancing at the contents. Nodding, she swung the bag casually by her side as she crossed the lobby to the old storage room where she had discovered a few elaborate candleholders. Fred hadn’t taken more than a few steps when a cold, hard hand grabbed her. Angel glared at her, shaking her arm and all but snarling at her.  

“I can’t believe that you’re helping him. How could you betray me like this?” 

“Betray you?” she hissed right back at him. “I am helping Wesley get your son back.” She jerked her arm from his grasp, whirling about to face Angel, Cordelia and Gunn. “If the three of you can’t believe that he can do this, can’t find it within you to support him – then get out! Just get the hell out!” Fred’s voice had risen as she spoke, so that the last sentence was screamed at Angel. “He doesn’t need this. We don’t need this.” 

“We?” Gunn asked softly. “What’s with this we?” 

“We, as in Wesley and I.” Fred sighed, returning to her work, getting the candlesticks and setting the boundaries of the circle that Wes needed for tonight’s ritual. “I’m with him, officially. Now decide if you’re going to help or leave. I have things to do.” She turned away from the trio, finishing her trip to the storage room and retrieving the candlesticks. She was surprised to feel them taken from her, slowly turning around and even more slowly smiling. “Charles?” 

“He gave me a second chance when everything said he shouldn’t.” Gunn stared down at Fred for a moment, then looked away. “We’ll talk later, Fred. We need to. Now where do these go?”  

Fred smiled softly at the black man before speaking. “The lobby. I know where, but I need to set up a few things first.” She ducked her head, blushing, and then looked back up at him as she passed him. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

“Hey. It’s all right. I’ve had time to think.” Gunn followed Fred back toward the lobby, carrying the candlesticks for her.  

Fred stepped into the lobby, unsurprised though somewhat disappointed to find Angel and Cordelia gone. Faith still stood by the counter, Lorne leaning on the very end, apparently trying to talk to her. Fred stood for a moment at the hall entrance, and then closed her eyes, allowing that nebulous something that Wes said she had to guide her steps. Very slowly, she paced the lobby, dropping the bag and opening her eyes. She laughed softly as she discovered she was in the very center of the room.  

Nodding once, she left the bag in the center of the room where she dropped it and crossed the room to retrieve one of the candlesticks from Gunn. Carrying it with her she circled the room to stand in front of the courtyard doors at the base of the stairs, eyeing the space between her and the shopping bag. After careful consideration she took four steps forward, setting the candlestick on the floor and looking at Gunn. “Set one of the others across from me, at the same distance from the bag as this one.”  

“And the others?” 

“Give me a minute,” Fred replied, rising to her feet to partially circle the room, seeking the right ‘spot’. She stopped between the end of the counter and the office door. “One goes here and the last by the elevators.”  

“Why’d you do that?” Gunn gestured at the way she had set the candlesticks, arranged at the cardinal points of the room.  

Fred laughed, going to the center of the room to kneel beside the bag and rummage a bit, pulling out a trio of candles: white, black, and purple. Crossing the room, the bag over one arm to set the candles into the first of the holders, she started explaining. “Wes told me to set the boundaries of the circle he was going to make tonight.” She turned, looking at Gunn briefly as she continued her work, setting matching trios of candles in each of the holders. “He said I should trust my instincts as to where to set the circle, so I did.”  

A soft sound caused all four of the people in the lobby to look up at the top of the stairs. Standing there, one hand on the newel post, the other tucked into his pants pocket, was Wesley, a vastly different Wesley than they were used to. He was dressed completely in black and gazed across the lobby, briefly meeting everyone’s eyes before nodding once and descending the stairs. 

Chapter Twenty-One:
Gunn stared at his friend in shock. This wasn’t Wesley; it was someone who looked like Wesley. He could feel the power that he carried. There was some part of his mind that was gibbering in fear at that power, power that Wes managed to keep hidden from the entire team. Now, like this, Gunn could believe that Wes could do what he was planning. He backed closer to the lobby doors, abruptly sitting on the steps and watching intently as Fred crossed to Wesley’s side, joining him just as the other man reached the bottom step. 

Fred smiled up at Wesley where he stood on the step above her. He smiled back, casting his eyes over the layout of the room before offering her a hand. Together the two of them crossed the room to the counter. When they joined the pair at the counter, Fred blushed as Lorne backed up again, nodding to Wesley as he did so. “Faith, take Gunn and find a weapon. You’ll need it.” Wes looked over his shoulder at Gunn. “Both of you.” He retrieved the silver key to the box, opening it and glancing at Fred. Fred reached out, cupping the chalice in her hands and lifting it from the box. She looked at Wes for a brief moment then left the room. He watched her leave the room, knowing what she was likely fetching, and again unwrapped the sword, lifting it slowly from the counter. Turning, he waited for all three to come back, just seeing Lorne edging to the courtyard stairs, settling on them to watch.  

Faith and Gunn returned first, Gunn with his favorite axe and Faith carting a sword. He watched as the two of them settled by the front doors. Wesley couldn’t believe what happened next. The door opened to reveal Cordelia, a crossbow in her hand. He heard Fred’s gasp from the vicinity of the kitchen hall, but didn’t turn. Just watched Cordy.  

“I thought you might need me,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, Wesley.” Cordelia circled the room to join Lorne at the opposite set of doors.  

Wes nodded once, now turning to cast a summoning glance at Fred, waiting for her to join him. Drawing a long, slow breath, Wes spoke in an almost whisper. “Are you sure?”  

Fred nodded, not trusting her voice to not shake. Instead she turned away from Wes, crossing the room to stand in the center of the space defined by the candles. Wesley, for his part, followed her, cradling the sword like a scepter in the crook of one arm. Standing in front of Fred, he reached out a hand, stroking her hair off her face. They stared at one another, both seeking reassurance from the other, then Wes dropped his hand, taking a single step back.  

Fred held the chalice in both hands, bowing her head over it and speaking softly in Latin. “Exorcizo te, creatura aquae, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti: ut fias aqua exorcizata ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum eradicare et explantare valeas cum angelis suis apostaticis, per virtutem ejusdem Domini nostri Jesu Christi: qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et saeculum per ignem.” 

Wesley was surprised that he wasn’t the only one who repeated the responsorial amen--that all the remaining members of the team did, even Faith. Fred raised her head, watching Wesley. Nodding once to her, he closed his eyes, gathering the power that he could feel humming in the room. Finding that place within himself that was as still as the night outside the confines of the hotel, Wesley opened his eyes and began his part of the casting. 

“Ateh, malkuth ve geburah ve gedulah le olahm. Amen.” Wes shifted the blade he held, resting the tip of the sword against the floor and visualizing the archangels, ever watchful, their mighty pinions fanned out, protecting the circle and all within. When he spoke again, it was in a soft, power-laden whisper. “Before me, Raphael. Behind me, Gabriel. At my right hand, Michael. At my left hand, Uriel.” Raising the sword, he rendered salute to the powers he had summoned, sensing their presence. He was somewhat surprised when Fred curtsied at the same time, shifting to kneel while holding the chalice and gazing up at him in expectation. 

Covering his surprise, Wesley continued the circle casting. “We stand outside of time, in a place not of earth. By Thy Blessed Apostles, by all Thy Holy Angels, by all Powers of Light and Shadow, we call upon Thee to guard and defend us from all perils, O Most High. Augeatur in nobis, quaesumus, Domine, tuae operatio.” 

“Luman Christi gloriose resurgentis sissipet tenebras cordis et mentis.” Fred’s soft voice gave the response and together, they finished setting the circle. “Fiat, voluntas mea.” As the faint echoes of that final phrase began to die away, Wes made an elegant gesture with one hand, lighting the candles, and resisted the urge to smile at the chorus of gasps that followed it.  

Wesley knelt on the marble floor, the sword clasped before him, much the way a postulant would before his knighting. Bowing his head, he rested his forehead on the pommel, hearing Fred rise to her feet and listening as she circled the room, aspersing the edges of the circle before returning to her spot in front of him, again kneeling on the floor, though this time she set the chalice on the floor between them 

Wesley waited, waited for the moment when a heavy, powerful silence developed in the lobby, and then he laid the sword on the floor. He slowly raised his head, meeting Fred’s eyes, and nodded once. She, in response, rose, moving around behind him and resting her hands on his shoulders. Wesley leaned back against her, closing his eyes and letting go, knowing that physically at least he was guarded. 

Chapter Twenty-Two:
The first thing that penetrated his consciousness was the battle cry of a hawk. He slowly turned, seeking the source of the sound. He couldn’t find it but he did, however, feel the brush of soft fur against his hand, a rough tongue licking his cheek. It was then he realized that he’d get further if he’d open his eyes. As he did so, he turned his head and laughed as he saw what was lying beside him: a small white-furred fox. The fox gave him an indignant look, nipping at him, before rising to its, no her, feet.  

Wesley laughed softly at the look, brushing a hand over the fox’s head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.” The fox yipped once in response to his apology before turning to look into the darkness that surrounded the spot where Wes was lying. He pushed himself up off the ground, just as the hawk screamed again.  

The fox yipped again, racing into the darkness toward that sound. Wes knew that she would lead him where he needed to go and followed her. Whenever he thought he’d lost her, she’d yip again or race back close enough for him to just see her.  It seemed forever before he reached a clearing in the strange woods the fox was leading him through, a clearing in which a confrontation was clearly taking place.  

He watched for a moment, wanting to sort out what was happening, even as his little guide raced between the combatants to curl in a protective ball around a tiny baby bird currently being guarded by the hawk whose screams he had heard piercing the forest. When the darkness menaced the small fox and the baby she guarded, Wes screamed a negative, racing across the clearing to get between that darkness and the fox.  

The hawk screamed again, this time a cry of triumph, streaking from the sky to land on Wesley’s shoulder. At the same time, from different directions, came two other animals: a wolverine and a mongoose. Both animals took up positions near him as he stared at the void before him.  

There was no other way to describe that darkness. It was a true lack of light, the nothing from which true evil was spawned. It was the darkness to which those who forsook the Light were condemned. It was the Void. Wesley only knew that he wasn’t going to allow that darkness to touch Connor, who was a true innocent. He drew in a breath, staring it down, knowing that the hardest part of his test was coming.  

And he wasn’t wrong. 

Out of that darkness stepped one of the few things that he truly feared: evil in the guise of a friend.  

Angelus.

Chapter Twenty-Three:
“So you did grow a pair, Wes old boy,” The demon taunted.  

Wesley ignored it, even as Angelus stalked closer. He refused to back down, to leave his position between Angelus and Connor. One small corner of Wes’ mind was coolly analyzing things, putting the pieces together. The small bird so ardently guarded by the fox was Connor. The fox herself was Fred, though he didn’t know who the other two were; yet he did have his suspicions. Suspicions confirmed when a peacock, a very angry peacock, suddenly attacked Angelus from one side.  

The distraction gave him the opportunity he needed, crouching beside the small fox, stroking its silky fur and watching as it rose. The moment it did, Wes carefully lifted the tiny bird, setting it onto the fox’s back where it grabbed onto the fur and the skin beneath with all its might. Wes stared into the fox’s eyes, seeing the reflection of Fred’s soul in them, the worry and the fear for him. He sensed she was about to make a noise and he tapped her on the nose, shaking his head. “Go, get him out of here.” She nodded her head once, coming close enough to lick his hand briefly before scrambling away, her movements cautious and deliberate, seeking the silence of her kind on the hunt. A small, dark streak followed her and Wes recognized it as the mongoose, guarding her back as she scampered away.  

Wesley watched until he couldn’t see even the faintest speck of white amongst the darkness, listening to the sounds of battle behind him. The pain-filled screech of the peacock and the mantling of the hawk on his shoulder in response caused Wesley to stiffen and whirl to gaze upon a scene he never wished to see again.  

Angelus stood laughing over the broken-winged bundle that had been the peacock. Cordelia, Wes’ mind whispered. Nearby lay the bloodied remains of the wolverine, Faith. Wes drew in a breath, knowing that whatever happened to him didn’t matter. He had accomplished what he had set out to do, gotten Connor away from the nightmare that menaced him. He straightened, unsurprised to see Holtz step out of the forest, a crossbow in hand, though the weapon was aimed at Wesley, not Angelus.  

Wesley stared at both men, knowing that he had to buy enough time for Fred to escape with Connor, and as he stood there, one phrase ran through his mind. May I be granted the strength to venture any sacrifice to uphold and protect the sanctity of life. He smiled slowly, a strange, sad half-smile, and held up his arm, feeling the hawk’s acceptance of what he was about to do, even as he felt Fred’s angry denial. “Neither of you will have him.” 

“Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, do you really think empty threats from you will stop us?” Holtz replied, while Angelus laughed.  

Wes shook his head. “Who said they were empty?” He turned his arm, exposing his wrist to the hawk.  He forced himself to not cry out when the bird, in response to his unspoken request, tore it open with its beak. “No, Holtz, I don’t make empty threats, not here at least.”  

Tossing the bird into the air, Wesley concentrated, calling the sword to him, holding it loosely in one hand while he dropped the other. He bit his lip at the throb in his wrist, trying to ignore the warm, sticky feel of his blood as it ran down his hand. “I did what I set out to do. Now I only need to keep you two busy for a couple of minutes. Long enough for one thing to happen.” He felt when his blood reached the end of his hand and he stepped back, raising the sword, and sighing. “I only regret one thing, but compared to what could have been it’s nothing.”  

He watched, as realization dawned, not on Holtz, but Angelus, the demon racing across the space between them, trying to stop what Wes had started. Wesley swung the blade with practiced ease, even if the swing wasn’t as powerful as it should have been due the blood loss. It was enough though, enough to destroy Angelus. He fell to his knees, hearing the sharp retort of the crossbow as the bolt was released, but didn’t pay attention as the effect he’d been hoping for, a large, angry explosion, occurred as his blood fell upon the stone beneath his feet.

Chapters 7 to 15 | Chapters 24 to Epilogue