Fred’s scream caught everyone by surprise, even as the girl staggered, falling to her knees to cradle the baby that was suddenly in her possession. Connor was screaming at the top of his tiny, infant lungs. Fred stared at Connor, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then laid him on the floor beside her, crawling to Wesley where he suddenly collapsed on the floor.  

“No, Wesley, you promised.” Fred gathered Wes to her, wrapping her arms around him. It was then, as she shifted him that she saw it, the deep, ragged cut on his wrist. Fred drew in a sobbing breath, clasping her hand over that wound and holding it as tightly as she could. She closed her eyes, begging any being that would listen to bring Wesley back to her.  

Everything seemed to change, becoming suddenly and amazingly clear. The hotel, with its attendant screaming from Connor and the team, faded into silence. A deep silence broken only by the sound of softly singing birds and chirping insects. Fred slowly opened her eyes to see a lush green field surrounding her where she cradled Wesley. Lying beside them was the sword, and set above it on a small, altar-like rock was the chalice.  

As she gazed about in wonder at the peace of the scene, all her worries came crowded back: Connor, Wesley bleeding. She needed help and was about to call out for it when she felt a hand laid upon her shoulder. She jumped, jerking about to see a sad-eyed woman behind her.  

“Peace, my sister.” The woman came around Fred, kneeling beside her and reaching out a hand to brush Wes’ hair off his face. “You will come to no harm here. Both of you are safe.”  

“Help him?” Fred asked quietly, ignoring the questions that crowded her mind, only concerned for Wesley. “Please, I’ll do anything.” 

“Could you give him up?” the woman asked, staring at Fred.  

“If I must,” Fred answered, her voice small and meek. “If it was the only way I could. I would rather know he lives than to lose him completely, than never see him again. If he could manage to watch me with someone else than so can I.” Fred bowed her head, crying silently and refusing to allow this strange woman to see how much the mere thought of losing Wesley hurt. 

“There is no need for tears, sister,” the woman said. “Both of you have been chosen, chosen for something that neither of you likely anticipated. He has passed his test. Yours will come soon enough.” She smiled suddenly, nodding at the chalice beside Fred. “You already know how to save him, but in so doing, you take my place.” 

“Here?” Fred asked softly, looking around her. 

“No, in the outer realm, though both of you can come here at need.”  

Fred nodded, reaching a shaking hand for the chalice. The moment her fingers touched it, the knowledge came to her, not only how to save Wesley but where she was and who the woman beside her was. “I. . . . ” 

The woman, the Lady of the Lake, rested a finger on Fred’s lips, silencing her. “We will talk soon enough. There is much you need to learn, sister. This is yours now.”  

Fred nodded, watching as the woman rose, wandering the field and seeming to disappear. Turning her attention to Wesley, Fred tilted the chalice over Wesley’s wrist, watching as the water rinsd away the blood that pooled around her hand. Then she slowly lifted her hand, allowing more of the water to spill directly onto the wound, staring with wide eyes as it closed in front of her. Fred swayed slightly, felt Wes shift in her lap, and snapped out of the trance that she was in, opening her eyes to chaos and Wesley’s smile. 

Chapter Twenty-Five:
“Tend to Connor, love.” Wes spoke quietly, shifting painfully in her lap until he was sitting up. He watched as Fred shifted to gather the baby into her arms, rocking him and cooing softly. He admired the sight of her with Connor, and then rose to see what was going on around them. 

Wesley was shocked at the chaos that reigned in the lobby around the confines of the circle they had cast. Faith and Cordy were holding an angry Angel back. He had to smile at the two as they stood side by side, threatening the vampire who was menacing them. Lorne had crept up the stairs, looking for a weapon from the way that he cast his eyes about and Gunn was edging about the room toward the women, casting a lot of looks at Wesley. 

“Angelus!” Wes called, catching everyone’s attention and causing instant silence. Everyone in the room turned to look at him, Angel staring at him in surprise. “One thing remains. Do you give him up to us, or do I send him away?” 

“That is my son,” Angel snarled, stalking down the stairs.  

“Yes. He is.” Wesley couldn’t believe how calm he was, how settled. “But I won’t allow the prophecy to come to pass, even if I have to give Fred up to protect the child. Now answer the question.” Wesley felt Fred come up behind him, her hand resting on his back for a moment, as she circled behind him to stand next to him. Wesley kept his eyes on the vampire, forcing himself to remain calm and resolute, knowing that he’d likely have to send Fred and Connor away, not knowing if he’d survive doing it, but at least she and Connor would be safe.  

Angel growled--there was no other description for the sound that the vampire made, and Wesley flinched. Then he crumbled, bowing his head and nodding once. “I agree.”  

Before Wes could say anything, Fred spoke. “Say it, Angel. You have to say it or it’s not valid.”  

Angel raised his head, obviously upset, and nodded. “He’s yours. You and Wesley may have him.” There was a clatter as Cordelia dropped her crossbow on the steps, rushing to Angel and holding him. Cordelia rocked Angel, holding him while he cried. Faith and Gunn came to join the pair, Lorne coming up behind the group.  

Wesley looked at Fred, reaching out a shaking hand to her. She took it and began leading him to the center of the circle. Kneeling, Fred tugged Wesley down next to her. Still holding his hand, she reached for the sword, murmuring softly, “This is yours. You know that, don’t you?” 

Wesley nodded, closing his hand around the hilt. “I know. I just wasn’t expecting it or what it means,” he answered her in a whisper. He ran the fingers of his free hand over her cheek, then rose, the sword in his hand to finish what they had started hours ago. Grounding the sword on the marble, Wes bowed his head, speaking softly. “We thank Thee for Thy attendance and guardianship. Non nobis, Domine, non nobis sed nomini tuo da gloriam.” Raising the blade, he saluted again, and gestured, the candles dying with the movement. Turning to face Fred, he spoke again. “These rites are ended.” 

The sudden grounding of the power on top of the self-inflicted blood loss caused Wes to stagger and almost fall. He leaned heavily on the sword, watching as Fred rose, Connor cradled in one arm and the chalice in her other hand. As their eyes met, he knew, knew with a certainty that couldn’t be denied that as much as Caliburn was his, the Sangreal and all the power it represented was hers. He also knew that they had just brought themselves to the attention of the darker powers.

Chapter Twenty-Six:
Wesley settled deeper into the sofa, Fred curled into his side feeding Connor his bottle. In the last several hours, Angel and Gunn, with Faith’s help, had returned all the furniture to the lobby.  Wes was exhausted, but pleased. He had done it, and more than that, when he’d called his family in London, his father had actually praised him for what he'd accomplished. Wesley played with a few strands of Fred’s hair, his mind trying to wrap around the fact that one of the most famous swords in history was now his, much less the fact that his Winifred was now the guardian of the Sangreal. Both items were now in the duffle bag that sat on the floor at the base of the sofa. Neither he nor Fred could stand to be far away from them. He sighed softly, watching the group and after a moment, as the last pieces fell into place, started to laugh softly.  

“All right, English, what’s so funny?” Gunn asked from his spot on the floor below the round sofa where he and Faith were playing with his Gameboy.  

“Just finally figured out exactly who was what.” Wesley cast his eyes over the group, cocking his head to one side and continuing to chuckle.  

“Tell us,” Cordy said, as she polished her nails. “Don’t just laugh.” 

After a couple of minutes, complete with glares from Lorne and Angel, Wes finally managed to control himself enough to really be able to explain what was so funny. “When I was. . . . fetching. . .  Connor, I saw the animals that are your spirit guides. I finally put the last ones, who I only saw at the end, and then briefly, together. I just thought them funny.” He shook his head, shifting a bit to be more comfortable, his eye settling on the ragged scar, now looking years healed rather than only hours. He waited for Fred to settle against his side, Connor resting on her chest. The baby starting to drift to sleep where he lay, his thumb tucked in his mouth. Then, he continued, before Cordelia could snap at him. 

“I’ll start with the last two. Lorne was a robin, no surprise there.” Wes smiled at the demon, and then turned to Angel. “You, Angel, were a snow leopard, though I didn’t really see you until the end.” 

“What about me?” Cordy interrupted, impatient. 

 “A peacock.” Wes outright laughed at her affronted expression, then turned to Faith and Gunn. “Faith was a wolverine, a very tenacious one. And you Gunn, were. . . . um. . . “ 

“Just say it. It can’t be as bad as Barbie here.” 

“It can,” Fred piped up, her voice soft so as to not wake the now sleeping baby. 

“How would you know?” Gunn asked, finally looking up from the Gameboy that he handed to Faith, apparently having lost his turn. 

“I was there and you covered my retreat with Connor,” Fred replied, smiling. “You were a mongoose.” 

Cordy started laughing, eventually falling off the sofa. She pointed at Gunn’s cross look, unable to resist the taunt. “At least mine fit!”  

Unable to take the laughter, Gunn waved at Wes and Fred. “What about you two? Well, three. I noticed you didn’t tell us yours.” 

Wes sighed. “Connor is a junco. It’s a tiny gray bird. When I found him, he was being protected by a hawk.” Wesley broke off, again staring at the scar on his wrist. Drawing a breath, he smiled. “The hawk was me and Fred is a fox.” 

“We know you think that, Wes. What’s her animal?” Faith asked, passing the Gameboy back to Gunn. 

“No, I am,” Fred answered. “My animal is an arctic fox, the little white ones.” Fred smiled at the group, giggling at the expressions on the crew and then yawning. “I’m sorry, I’m just suddenly so tired.” 

Angel perked up immediately. “Stay here tonight, both of you. Please?” He sat up, casting imploring eyes on both of them. “I moved Connor’s crib into Fred’s room for you.”  

Wes considered Angel, then Fred, the later of whom was falling asleep where she lay. “All right, but only because I’m too tired to drive.” Wesley chuckled, shifting Fred to get her to wake up enough to head upstairs. He was surprised when Gunn rose, coming over to lean over and start to pick up Fred, calling quietly to Faith to get Connor. After Faith had picked up Connor, Gunn lifted Fred and started for the stairs. Wes levered himself off the sofa to follow them. 

Upon reaching Fred’s room, Wes watched as Gunn laid Fred in her bed, brushing a hand over her hair as he rose while Faith quietly lay Connor in his crib, straightening to gaze questioningly at Wesley. Wes raised an eyebrow at Faith as she joined him in the doorway. “Where do I stay?”  

Wes pulled his apartment keys out of his pocket, handing them to her. “Stay at my place tonight. We’ll talk about long term stuff tomorrow.” He shifted his attention to Gunn. “Could you take her?” Gunn nodded, ushering Faith out of the room and closing the door behind them.  

Wesley dropped the duffle bag on the floor beside the bed, slipping Fred’s shoes off, kicking off his own and settling into the bed beside Fred. “I love you, Winifred,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple and wrapping an arm around her, sighing as she snuggled into him. It took only moments for all three occupants of the room to drift into a deep slumber. 

Epilogue:
A shadow detached itself from the wall, crossing the room to gaze down at the couple curled together on the bed. Unseen and unheard by the room’s occupants, a soft, eerily familiar voice spoke into the silence of the moonlit night. “We will never be finished, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. Enjoy this time, for I will return soon, perhaps for your lady rather than you.”

Chapters 16 to 23