A/N: So this is my first crack at a Dollhouse/Angel crossover fic. Its short but I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I don't really know how many people will read it, but I hope you like it. And if you do? Please leave a review. They really make me smile.
Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or Dollhouse. It all belongs to that genius Joss Whedon.
Reality vs. Fantasy
Wesley sucks in a sharp breath as she comes nearer to him, closing the space between them with each careful step. He almost wants to scream and yell and tell Illyria to change back.
To stop pretending.
To stop looking like her.
To make her warm brown eyes become icy blue and her soft shiny brown hair turn black and dull.
And he would, if the small brunette standing in front of him really were Illyria. No this is an illusion of a completely different kind. It is one he would have never fathomed in his darkest of dreams. Yet its the same as any fantasy he ever thought of, ever desired deeply with the very core of his being in a way he once wanted her. But he has to reject it, refuse to see it. He has to if he wants to keep even a shred of sanity. It's what he was taught.
Reality is all he's ever known. Winifred Burkle is gone. Illyria made sure of that when she clawed her way into the world. That is his reality.
But with this new technology, rounded up by a close personal friend of Wolfram and Hart called Rossum (who he thinks may be more evil than Wolfram and Hart and the first evil put together) the impossible has become possible. Technology has created a monster not even the magics could make. Something so sinister and so wonderful Wesley can't begin to let it go.
"My Wesley." she breathes sweetly and Wes feels his resolve start to crumble, like the way he knows the world will one day around them.
He shouldn't believe it. He doesn't want to but Whiskey, the active's name, believes this is her. He loves her and she loves him, even if its only for a little while.
"Fred." Wesley replies softly, her name bitter on his tongue as he takes her in his embrace. Better to play pretend with a doll than to live reality with a corpse.