Work Text:
Fanfiction_Angel
Fictober 2024_Prompt 21: “We’ve done worse.”
.
.
.
“You.” He said it with a sneer, like she was an inconvenience, a nuisance.
“Me.” Annabelle eyed the ex-Watcher carefully, stepping fully into the hallway to block his path, and separate him from Fred. Just for a few minutes, just to give her time, Annabelle thought.
The Wesley in front of her was not the Wesley she knew, and it certainly wasn’t the man she had fallen in love with, and tragically been forced to leave at the altar. This Wesley was arrogant, snide, hateful, and cruel. This Wesley would say terrible things her Wesley would never dare utter.
This Wesley was the one she had been looking for.
There was a rage pulsating through him now, and Annabelle knew she’d have to be careful not to hurt him. “You’re in the way,” he announced, his voice low and cold as he began walking towards her.
“I get that a lot,” she said, shrugging, bracing herself for his coming onslaught.
“You should run.” Closer now, more menacing.
“Here we go,” Annabelle whispered to herself, moving into a defensive position. Wesley was a better fighter than he realized – stronger, too. Despite what she was here to do, Annabelle didn’t want to hurt him, but she also wasn’t willing to let him hurt her. She knew this man had no compassion, no moral ground, and after what she’d done to him… well, that was just fuel to his fire.
Dodging his attacks at first were simple, but eventually she was forced to push him back. She landed a solid kick to his stomach, but even she knew the right amount of force wasn’t behind it. She’d hurt Wesley enough, and even in his current state she was struggling.
Fred. Do it for Fred. Buy her the time.
There was no familiarity in Wesley’s eyes when he looked up at her from the spot where he was kneeling on the floor. No love, just hate. “Stay down, Wes,” she warned, and he smirked.
“You think you can tell me what to do? After what you did?” Annabelle took a sobering breath. This isn’t him, this isn’t him. “You spun me along, made me want you, made me need you, made me WAIT!” He shouted the last word, and she couldn’t help but wince. He rose to his feet, cocking his head to the side as he eyed her. “You’re nothing but a worthless tease desperate to be the center of my attention.” He smirked. “That’s why you keep coming back. That’s why you’re here now. That,” he took a step towards her, “is why you’re standing between me and her.” Her. He couldn’t say her name either. A slow smile slid over his handsome features, but it was anything but sincere. “I guess I’ll just have to kill you both.”
-------------------------
Sean watched Fred leave Wesley’s apartment, heard him start to cry. He hated it for Wes; he was a good man. Sean had been thrilled when Annabelle told him Wesley had proposed. Now, he grimaced at the thought. If he could’ve had his way, Annabelle and Wesley would be married now, happy and peaceful. But some things you can’t control; better to focus on what you can.
Sean pushed off the wall, rounding the corner once he was sure Fred was gone, and knocked on Wesley’s apartment door. “It’s me, Wes,” he called before adding, “I’m alone.”
Sean had never seen Wesley look so distraught – even on his wedding day – and Sean couldn’t fault him for it. Wesley had been a victim and an abuser all in one night, and living with the ramifications would be difficult. Sean knew Wesley would eventually move past it – what other choice did he have? - but it would always be a night he hated, and something he regretted.
That’s why he’d asked Annabelle and Sean to intervene if they ever had the opportunity. That’s why Annabelle had been so adamant about going in alone last night. That’s why she was in her current condition.
Sean should’ve been inside the hotel with Annabelle that night, but he knew the risk of infection. Annabelle agreed it would be better for him to play lookout, and let her know when things started falling apart. She’d been in the building the moment Angel left, staking out the area, and choosing the perfect spot to wait.
A spot Fred wouldn’t notice. A spot where she could easily intercept Wesley, or even Gunn, if needed.
“She’s not here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Sean assured him as Wesley cast a glance to the empty hallway. They both knew he was talking about Annabelle. Wesley held open the door for Sean to enter, and closed it softly behind him.
“What’re you doing here, Sean?” He asked softly, averting his eyes as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
“Came to say good-bye. Thought you could use a friendly ear before I left.” Sean rocked back on his heels, thrusting his hands into his jean pockets. He’d always liked Wesley; too bad their relationship was strained because of forces neither could control.
“I’m fine, thank you. Please thank Annabelle for her assistance that evening. I…,” he paused, voice cracking. “I was not myself.”
Sean arched a brow. “You’re not even going to ask what she was doing there?”
Wesley raised his eyes, and despite all the pain Sean could see a hard glimmer of defiance. “No,” he replied firmly.
Sean chewed his lip for a moment, nodding slowly. The temptation to tell Wesley the truth – the whole truth – was overwhelming, but he would restrain himself. “You’re a good man, Wes. I hope you know that.” Wesley averted his eyes once more, shaking his head briefly.
“I’m not so sure anymore.” His voice was soft, quiet, and so, so sad. Sean couldn’t leave him like this. He stepped forward, placing a strong hand on one of Wesley’s shoulders, and maneuvered his head so he could look him in the eye.
“You’re a victim in all this, Wes. Just like Fred. I know what this kind of monster looks like, and you…,” he shook his head. “You’re not one of them. You need to know that.”
Wesley clenched his jaw, nodding, although he didn’t look fully convinced. “Did I hurt her?” He whispered, and Sean could tell he was trying not to cry.
Sean bit his lip, and lied. “No. No, she’s just fine, Wes. You don’t have to worry about her.”
The lie, in the end, seemed to be justifiable. Wesley’s eyes lightened just a touch; his face shifted a tiny bit as if the guilt he was bearing was suddenly a bit lighter. “Thank you, Sean.”
The blonde nodded. “I’ll see myself out. Take care of yourself, Wes.”
------------------------------------
Annabelle arched her back, pushing off the building she was leaning against, and easily fell into step with Sean as he rounded the corner. “How’d it go?” She asked, her hands thrust deep into the bomber jacket’s pockets.
Sean shrugged. “As well as could be expected, I suppose.” He cast his eyes over to her, taking in the dark shade of a bruise on her left cheek. “How’re your knuckles?” He asked, turning his eyes back to the path in front of them.
“Busted,” she replied.
“Cheek?”
“Sore.”
“Ego?”
She stopped walking, and turned to look at him. “After what I did,” she began.
“Forced to do,” he corrected, and she rolled her eyes.
“I still did it, Sean. He can call me whatever he likes if it makes him feel better.”
“He asked after you,” Sean replied, and she snorted.
“Liar.”
“He did. He was worried he’d hurt you.”
Annabelle clenched her jaw, and looked away for a moment. “And you said?”
“I lied.” He gave her a small smile, and she returned it.
“Well,” she said, “We’ve done worse.”