Work Text:
"Wesley."
When Wesley looked up from his research, he was only mildly surprised to see Fred looking at him. She stood before him and gently cupped his face in her hands. He stood up to meet her embrace and pulled her in for a kiss. Her lips were salty, and his tongue probed them, opening them wider so it could explore her mouth. She pressed against him, seeking contact with his skin. His hands traveled down her back, nails raking her shirt, and finally came to rest in the curve of her back.
Breathless, he pulled away to discover Faith, and not Fred, in his arms. She looked at him with her liquid brown eyes. He could feel her hands pulling at his shirt, untucking it. Nimbly, her fingers unbuttoned his top.
Dumbstruck, Wesley watched as Lilah's form replaced Faith's. She licked her blood red lips and looked at him longingly. Ever faster, the three women appeared in his arms, their shapes merging into each other. He tried to back away, but he was rooted to the spot. After what seemed like an eternity, only Lilah's form remained. She pushed Wesley back onto his bed, but before she could join him, Angel stepped out of the shadows, grabbed her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Lilah returned the kiss, and her hands began to tug at the vampire's clothes.
Wesley woke up with a start. When he lifted his head from his desk, a couple of papers came up with him. Still heavy with sleep, he brushed them away, and ran his fingers through his hair. That was the third time this week he had fallen asleep at his desk researching. He wasn't sure why he was devoting so much time to research lately. He had a team at his disposal to do most of the grunt work for him, and he had all of Wolfram and Hart's resources at his finger tips. Nothing beat good old fashioned translation -- it had helped him to forget things before, but this time, he was trying to remember something.
Ever since the dreams had started three weeks ago, Wesley had this nagging feeling that he had forgotten something extremely vital. He found himself carrying around his copy of Dante's Inferno, and was always inexplicably drawn to the description of the seventh circle of hell, the final resting place for betrayers.
He began researching demons known for betrayals in an attempt to jog his memory. He had a list pages long, but nothing was familiar. He was trying to cross-reference what he had with the information Angel had given him on the First Evil, thinking that maybe this feeling was remnant from Sunnydale, but it was slow-going. In the three weeks since Sunnydale had been crater-ized, Los Angeles had been without rain. The heat weighed down on the soul, and like the ground, Wesley was parched. He thirsted for the knowledge he knew would stop his dreams. Whenever a memory began to surface, he would try to focus on it, but it always remained out of his reach. At least by focusing on one foe, Wesley felt like he was making some headway.
Soon, the letters on the page began to blend together, and Wesley nodded off to sleep again.
***
Wesley heard someone crying. He tried to locate the source of the cries. He looked down at his arms, and saw a baby. The baby grew heavier in his arms and he looked for a place to put him. He placed the baby in a rocking cradle. When he pulled his hands away, they were red with blood. He could hear footsteps behind him, but before he could turn around, something sharp and cold was pressed to his throat.
"Want to know how it feels, do you? Thought you could get away with it and then forget, huh? This is what my father did to me because of you."
The pressure around his throat was relieved and Wesley inhaled sharply. He never expected the blade to plunge into his abdomen.
Wesley gasped, and as he fell to the ground, he turned to see his assailant. Tall with lanky hair, the boy looked familiar.
"Yo, English. Wes. Wes?"
Gunn ran over to Wesley's desk and began to shake the moaning figure. Slowly, Wes stopped moaning and sat up in his chair, rubbing his throat.
"What happened to you?" Wesley could see the concern on Gunn's face. He had noticed that his friends had been keeping a closer watch on him since his appearance started to go downhill. He wanted to tell Gunn about the dreams, but couldn't find the words.
"Nothing. Just a dream. I need some air. Let Angel know I'll be back."
Without a second glance back, Wesley left his office and a very confused Gunn behind.
***
Angel looked up from the file he had been studying when he heard a knock at his door. Hastily, he put the folder into a desk drawer and closed it as Gunn and Fred both entered his office.
"Angel, we're worried about Wesley. Something's up." Fred stopped, unsure of what to say next.
"He hasn't been this absorbed in his research since…since… That doesn't matter -- he's obsessed. He needs help." Gunn longed for the days when he had been running with his crew. He gave orders and they followed; nobody had the time to be obsessed with anything.
Gunn was sure that he had seen Wesley this obsessed with his research before, but he couldn't remember when. He had a feeling that something horrible had happened because of this. He knew Wesley wasn't eating and his rumpled clothes indicated he'd been working all night in his office for some time now.
"Shouldn't you be talking to Wesley about this?"
"That's the thing Angel, he won't talk about it. Whenever I try to ask him something…he leaves," Fred explained. Shit. Lilah had assured Angel that nobody but himself would remember who Connor was. He could tell she hadn't been completely truthful with him. He remembered the last time Wesley had been so absorbed in his research -- Connor's kidnapping. Angel didn't know what to say. Gunn and Fred were waiting for him to answer.
"Mr. Angel? There's someone here to see you. Says it's urgent." Angel looked up at his secretary. He knew he had been saved by the arrival of a client.
"Gunn, Fred…we'll continue this later. With Wesley, alright?"
Angel watched Gunn and Fred's backs as they left his office. He hated pushing them away; it reminded him of when he had fired Gunn, Wes and Cordy, but it couldn't be helped. If they were around him for too long, he was sure they would learn that there was a lot more to the last year than he was letting on.
***
The waves rolled in, racing for their chance to reach the rocks and erupt into frothy fireworks. Wesley stood on the beach, watching…waiting. He could feel the summer sun on his back, but it did nothing to warm him.
On the surface, the ocean appeared uncertain, but deep down, where it counted, it was calm.
The water had been there long before he had. It had seen so much change, but still it was the same. It would be there long after he was gone. A rock of stability, the water held Wesley in thrall as the wind whistled around him. Ever since he had spent the last summer searching the depths of the ocean for Angel, he was strangely comforted by the swelling of the waves.
He was plagued by the same question that had haunted him in his dreams: what was Angel doing at the bottom of the ocean? Who had put him there, and for what reason? Wesley was sure that he would have the answer to all of his questions and dreams, if only he could answer those two. Anytime he had tried to question Angel about it, Angel would feign ignorance. He would say that he didn't see who his attacker was, but Wesley knew that was a lie. Angel would get a far away look in his eyes when he talked about the past year. He knew more than he was saying. Angel had changed over the past year. If it was possible, he was carrying more responsibility on his shoulders than before.
Wesley wondered if he had changed so much over the past year. At first, he thought he had. When he looked in the mirror, he didn't recognize the man that looked back out at him. But then, he realized that much had stayed the same. He was still Wesley Wyndham-Price -- ex-watcher, leader, and researcher, but he couldn't shake the feeling that who he was had been violated in some way. Something kept tugging at his subconscious, willing itself to be remembered.
Before surrendering himself to the roar of the waves and the cry of the flying birds, Wesley wondered who the disturbed boy in his dream had been, and who his father was.
***
Wesley paused at his office door, hesitating to enter. The group was waiting for him inside, and he could tell they were concerned. Fred had been trying to distract him from his research by inviting him down to her lab. He had read the follow up to her article on super symmetry, but nothing made him feel satisfied.
"Wesley…we're worried about you. You stay in your office, research at all hours…" Fred stopped, uncertain of what to say.
"English, you're obsessed." Gunn didn't mince words. If he had to treat Wesley as he had treated the kids in his crew back in the days when Alonna was still alive then so be it.
"It's not a road you want to go down."
The irony of Angel's statement wasn't lost on Wesley. He remembered the last time Angel had been obsessed with something: he, Gunn and Cordelia had been fired.
Wesley listened to his friends, nodding his head to make it look like he was paying attention. He didn't want to share what he was going through with them; this was something that was his alone. It was his dreams that were keeping him up at night, and he really wasn't sure if he wanted them to end. He was used to having dreams that would wake him up in a cold sweat. Truth be told, dreaming of beautiful women and death was a change from dreaming of being locked up in closets and constant berating from his father.
Wesley started when he felt Fred's hands on his shoulders. She was looking at him as if she was trying to figure out what was going on in his head. Gunn and Angel both stood back to let Fred do the talking. They both knew that Fred held more sway over him than they did.
Wesley remembered a time when it was just he, Angel, Cordy and Gunn. He remembered late night movie sessions with Gunn in the hotel, and watching each other's backs in fights, pretending to be action heroes. But when he tried to remember the last time he and Gunn had done that together, he came up with nothing. He couldn't remember why they stopped watching movies together either. The same could be said with spending time with Angel. They used to crash Cordy's parties together, much to her annoyance.
Now Cordy lay in a coma, he felt awkward around Gunn, and Angel rarely looked at him without having a pained expression. Angel knew more than he was letting on, but Wesley had stopped pressing him for answers. He was tired of the pained expressions and pregnant pauses. He'd rather come to the answers on his own.
Once again, Fred tried to deter him from his research. Gunn made some remark about how he could be mistaken for a vampire, he was so pale. Wesley couldn't help but smile at Angel's indignation. For a moment, it felt like what he had taken to referring to as the good old days, but it passed before Wesley could bask in its comfort. He knew he wouldn't be left alone until he had agreed to lay off the research, so he told his friends what he knew they wanted to hear. He'd take a break from his research and share his findings with them in the morning.
From the speed of Wesley's surrender, Gunn knew that he would still stay in his office all night researching. Gunn wanted to say something to Wesley, wanted to try and knock some sense into him, but Angel stopped him. Reluctantly, Gunn and Fred followed Angel out of the office. Wesley lingered at his door for a moment, watching his friends' backs move away from him. He remembered vaguely a time when he had shut his friends out of his research. The memory floated so close to him, but as always, was out of his reach.
The sun was setting over the neighboring buildings, and Wesley stood silhouetted against his window, willing his mind to go blank.
***
"Hello lover."
Wesley looked up from his research to find Lilah eyeing him hungrily. He knew he had to be dreaming again, but he wanted to believe she was standing in front of him, alive and lusting.
He rose from his chair and went to her.
"Come with me -- I have something to show you."
Lilah held out her hand and he took it. Slowly, the landscape around him changed; grass replaced carpet and trees shimmered into existence. Stars hung overhead, distant and cold.
"Where are we Lilah? "You already know the answer to that question." Wesley knew he had seen this place before, on another night similar to this one, but he couldn't recall anything.
***
Fred moved the load of textbooks from one hip to the next. She knew that Wesley was absorbed in his research, and she had done some research on her own. Maybe if the two of them collaborated together, they'd be able to make some serious headway in the research department.
She knocked on Wesley's office door, and gently pushed it open when there was no answer. She stood at the door and watched Wesley sleep. He looked so peaceful sleeping and she didn't want to disturb him. Instead, she let herself in and closed the door so as not to wake him.
***
In frustration, Wesley turned to Lilah, but she had been replaced by a lanky teenager. With a slow intake of breath, Wesley recognized the boy as the one from his dreams.
"Memory still foggy, hunh? Figures."
Before Wesley could move, the boy laid a hard left to his jaw. Wesley reeled from the shock of the blow and fell back onto the hard grass. The fall knocked loose one word:
Loa.
Suddenly, Wesley knew where he was. This was where he had sought out the Loa to find out whether a prophecy was true. He remembered warnings of fire, blood on the sky and death, and watching each omen occur but nothing else.
The boy straddled Wes' body, and began to rain blows down on him. With each connection, Wesley remembered something else: kidnapping a baby, having his throat slit, and the boy. It was he who had sent Angel to the bottom of the ocean.
The boy had hardly broken a sweat. His assault continued as he spoke to Wes.
"Prophecies are tricky. They don't tell you everything."
Wesley remembered discovering a prophecy, one that had frightened him.
"'The Father will kill the Son.' Sound familiar? Too bad it turned out to be a false prophecy. You ruined my life and betrayed Angel in the process," the boy spit out, full of hate.
Wesley remembered knowing that Angel was the father the prophecy referred to, but who was the son?
As if the boy had read Wesley's mind, him looked him straight in the eyes.
"Me."
The blows intensified in strength. Every bit of fury and hate were concentrated in his fists. Pain exploded across Wes' abdomen.
Gasping for breath, he tried to fight back, but found his arms pinned to his sides. The boy was too strong for him to succeed against.
***
Fred frantically called out Wesley's name, willing him to wake up. She had never seen someone thrash so much while asleep and it frightened her. She dropped her research and ran towards him. She grabbed his shoulders, and at first tried shaking him awake, but stopped when she realized he was already shaking violently on his own. She tried to hold him still, but that didn't work either.
***
"Why?"
The boy ignored Wesley, but mercifully the blows stopped. The boy looked down at him, his brown eyes cold and full of hate, yet filled with a familiar sadness.
A flash of silver. Wesley felt the blood on his throat before he realized what the boy had done. As Wesley took his last breath, the final piece of the puzzle moved into place.
Connor.
***
Fred held onto Wesley's shoulders, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, he stopped shaking and she pulled away. Her hands felt sticky and when she looked at them they were wet with blood. Shaking herself now, she picked up the phone and her fingers pressed the buttons out of habit.
"Ch-Charles. Get Angel. Come to Wesley's office."
Unable to string together coherent sentences, she hung up.
***
"For the world's moreful of weeping than you can understand." Lilah looked down at Wesley's corpse, wondering if this was what he had felt when he had found her dead. When she noticed Connor staring blankly at her, she chuckled.
"Didn't learn about William Butler Yeats in Quor-toth did you? I thought it was appropriate...The Stolen Child. Your childhood was stolen after all. Now you've taken his life. Rather poetic, don't you think? Comforting for you and Wesley as well."
Connor kicked Wesley's corpse and looked at it as if he was searching for answers.
"Where's the comfort in that? He's dead."
"Only his dream self. If Angel can wake him, he'll remember everything about you and he won't have anything to keep him up at night." Lilah paused. "At least for a while. He reconciled what he did once. What makes you think that won't happen again?"
Like a child that had just been told Christmas wasn't coming, Connor's face fell. The man that had ruined his life -- well, the man after Angel -- would get to live and be comforted.
"Don't pout Connor, it doesn't become you. Now brooding…that's something different." Lilah smiled and let her mind wander. Absentmindedly, she rubbed her neck. The two stood above Wesley's body watching the blood from his wound congeal. Slowly, the outline of the corpse started to fade. Lilah turned her back and started walking away. She called back to Connor, once again quoting Yeats: "Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild."
Reluctantly, Connor followed her into the night.
***
Angel could smell Wesley's blood from down the hallway. He quickened his pace and arrived in Wesley's office expecting the worse. Fred and Wesley were both covered in the red fluid, and Angel could feel his demon shift, trying to break free and drink. It was thirsty.
Fred had managed to slow the flow of blood by pressing a ripped shred of her shirt to Wesley's throat -- over the scar that she recognized but couldn't quite remember. Angel stood rooted at the door and was taking in the scene when Gunn came barreling in behind him.
"What's going on? What happened to Wes?" Gunn let loose with the questions. He knew that knowledge was power, and he wasn't going to lose his friend…again. This wasn't the first time Wesley's life had been in danger from bleeding out of a throat wound. Gunn remembered searching a park for his fallen friend, but nothing more.
Fred looked up at Angel, pleading with him to do something, anything to wake Wesley up. She explained how she had come in to check on him and found him thrashing around on his desk. He wouldn't wake up from whatever nightmare he was having.
Finally, with his demon in check, Angel bridged the distance between him and Wesley. He wasn't sure what to do. Whenever they had been faced with something unknown, Wesley had done the research for them. There wasn't time for research now though, not when Wesley was turning white and his breathing was slowing down. Angel could hear Wesley's heart beat, but it was painfully slow. There wasn't much time.
Out of habit and not necessity, Angel inhaled deeply and began to talk. He started from the beginning -- he told Fred and Gunn about his night of passion with Darla. He told them of the birth of his son Connor, Wesley's discovery of a prophecy that said Angel would kill his son and how Wesley had kidnapped Connor to protect him from Angel. He described how it had gone horribly wrong and that Connor had been kidnapped and taken to a hell dimension where he grew up, and how Wesley had received the scar on his throat. He painfully shared how it felt to see his son a teenager and bent on killing him.
The more he shared, the easier it became. As he neared the end of his tale, Angel was interrupted by the sound of thunder in the distance.
Gunn and Fred listened carefully, incredulous. What Angel told them was making sense -- it fit in with the bits of memories that had been surfacing over the past three weeks.
Lightning flashed, and Wesley shuddered. Fred held her breath, afraid that the slightest noise on her part would disturb the quiet tension in the office. Unnoticed at first, rain drops began to appear on Wesley's windows. More rain drops began to cover the window, tracing small pathways down the surface of the glass.
Wesley gasped as the rain began to batter the window. The drought was over. He slowly sat upright, taking in his surroundings. He knew he had been very near death again, and that Angel had saved him…by breaking the magical bindings that had been placed on his memory.
From the looks in Gunn and Fred's eyes, Wesley knew that Angel had told them about Connor, saving them from the destructive dreams he had experienced. For the first time in weeks, Wesley felt whole and healthy.
Managing a half smile, Wesley met Angel's eyes.
"How welcome is the rain," Wesley rasped.