TITLE: Seraph
AUTHOR: Scarlet Rose
RATING: PG
PAIRING: Wesley/Fred
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fred and Wesley, nor any of the other characters in this fic, no matter how much I desperately wish I did
DISTRIBUTION: If you'd like it, all ya gotta do is ask!
FEEDBACK: I love friendly feedback! Send it on over to detective_lockley@yahoo.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first Wesley/Fred fic, so please go easy on me:) It's not a dialogue centered piece, more descriptive.
Fred knocked hesitantly on the door, and was slightly startled when it opened. She'd expected him to put up a fight- asking her to leave, as he had all the other times. Locking her out once again. But as the door swung open, she found herself facing a man she didn't know. A man who was so lost, she could barely recognize him at all. Wesley's neck still wore a bandage, a grim reminder of the events that had taken place only a short while ago. But instead of the tall, brave man she last saw him as, she now saw a broken, gaunt figure staring out at her with eyes as dull as the lighting in the apartment.
She instinctively moved towards him, hand reaching up to land on his shoulder. "Wesley?" she asked brokenly. But he shifted away quickly, moving back from her touch. She stepped back slightly, startled, almost backing away herself. Reminded briefly of when she'd come to see him after the whole incident with Billy. But she brought herself back to the present, and watched as he turned from her. Putting up the invisible wall again. Her back straightened, and her chin went up. She wouldn't let him dismiss her again so easily.
"Wesley," she said, and this time it wasn't a question. It was an order. An order to turn around and face her. The time had come, and she wouldn't let him back away again. She heard what sounded like a soft sigh emit from the forlorn figure, then he turned back to her. Fred felt all her words congeal in her throat at the tired and drawn look in his eyes. Instead of berating him, or placating him, or whatever she'd planned to do if she got this far, she came closer and took hold of his hand. She led him over to the couch, and watched as he sank down onto it. Moving away only to grab a chair, she moved next to him and sat down. Silence stretched out for long intervals, until finally he lay down and closed his eyes. She sensed the moment when he fell asleep, and let out a breath she hadn't know she was holding.
He slept on, alone in his nightmarish world of dreams. But Fred never left his side, a faithful guardian watching over him. Wishing that she could stop the demons in his mind as well as she could fight the demons in their world. But knowing she could not. She stayed up the entire night, not allowing her eyelids to close even for a moment. When dawn's light crept through the drapes, she felt a hollow fill her chest. She knew she had to leave. Charles and the rest of the gang would be worried if she didn't come down for breakfast from her room at the hotel. Resignedly, she gathered herself together and moved to leave. Reaching the door, she watched as Wesley's face contorted in a grimace as he slept. Checking her instinct to run over and hold him, she moved quietly into the hall and left his apartment.
Fred quickly packed as many clothes as she could into the bag, wondering how on earth she'd ever managed to obtain so many. She remembered Cordy dragging her along on many impromptu shopping trips, but had forgotten how much stuff the other woman had bought for her. She hesitated briefly before leaving the hotel, placing her suitcases into the cab's backseat. It had been so hard for her to do this. Charles had been the hardest to convince. She'd told him that she wanted to strike out on her own for a bit, get her own place to live. She'd argued that Angel didn't need a burden like her living at the hotel right now, not when he had his own worries to think about. Charles, of course, had tried to reason with her. She had almost crumbled when he said that the last thing that Angel needed was to lose another person. But then she thought of a lonely, desperate man and became resolute. She told Charles that Angel wasn't losing her; she'd still be around. She just needed her own space, was all. He'd reluctantly agreed, and had offered to help her move. He hadn't liked it one bit when she'd asked that she do this alone. He wanted to know where she'd be. She liked his protectiveness, but she couldn't afford to tell him where she was really going. He was too upset still with Wesley to understand.
Finally, she'd cajoled Charles into letting her move on her own, with promises to call him later that evening to let him know she'd settled in alright. When she'd arrived at Wesley's apartment, she'd found the door locked as usual. When he didn't answer after her repetitive knocks, she could have screamed. There was no way she'd come this far, betrayed Charles' trust, for her to be rejected like this. Briefly, she tried to remember the tricks Cordelia had taught her about how to open doors with credit cards or bobby pins. But those thoughts became useless when the door finally opened, and Wesley stood blinking into the light of the hallway. She pushed her way into the apartment, and blithely told him that she was moving in. He had stood in shock for a moment, but hadn't argued. Which was a good thing, because she was so keyed up that she probably would have flipped out had he argued.
After long, awkward moments of just standing and staring at each other, he went back to his couch and sat down. After long minutes of watching him, Fred realized he wasn't going to move. She took a look around the apartment. The couch he sat on was old and worn- in stark contrast to the sterile bed in the bedroom that looked like it had never been slept on. She nearly smiled at that. She had always pictured Wes coming back to his apartment, studying with his tomes and notes until he finally fell asleep with his head on a book either on the desk or the couch. There wasn't much light in the apartment- it appeared he'd tried to banish all forms of it. Overhead lights were burned out; the curtains were heavy and dark. She sat down hard on the bed, and tried to plan. What on earth should she do next?
AUTHOR: Scarlet Rose
RATING: PG
PAIRING: Wesley/Fred
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fred and Wesley, nor any of the other characters in this fic, no matter how much I desperately wish I did
DISTRIBUTION: If you'd like it, all ya gotta do is ask!
FEEDBACK: I love friendly feedback! Send it on over to detective_lockley@yahoo.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first Wesley/Fred fic, so please go easy on me:) It's not a dialogue centered piece, more descriptive.
Fred knocked hesitantly on the door, and was slightly startled when it opened. She'd expected him to put up a fight- asking her to leave, as he had all the other times. Locking her out once again. But as the door swung open, she found herself facing a man she didn't know. A man who was so lost, she could barely recognize him at all. Wesley's neck still wore a bandage, a grim reminder of the events that had taken place only a short while ago. But instead of the tall, brave man she last saw him as, she now saw a broken, gaunt figure staring out at her with eyes as dull as the lighting in the apartment.
She instinctively moved towards him, hand reaching up to land on his shoulder. "Wesley?" she asked brokenly. But he shifted away quickly, moving back from her touch. She stepped back slightly, startled, almost backing away herself. Reminded briefly of when she'd come to see him after the whole incident with Billy. But she brought herself back to the present, and watched as he turned from her. Putting up the invisible wall again. Her back straightened, and her chin went up. She wouldn't let him dismiss her again so easily.
"Wesley," she said, and this time it wasn't a question. It was an order. An order to turn around and face her. The time had come, and she wouldn't let him back away again. She heard what sounded like a soft sigh emit from the forlorn figure, then he turned back to her. Fred felt all her words congeal in her throat at the tired and drawn look in his eyes. Instead of berating him, or placating him, or whatever she'd planned to do if she got this far, she came closer and took hold of his hand. She led him over to the couch, and watched as he sank down onto it. Moving away only to grab a chair, she moved next to him and sat down. Silence stretched out for long intervals, until finally he lay down and closed his eyes. She sensed the moment when he fell asleep, and let out a breath she hadn't know she was holding.
He slept on, alone in his nightmarish world of dreams. But Fred never left his side, a faithful guardian watching over him. Wishing that she could stop the demons in his mind as well as she could fight the demons in their world. But knowing she could not. She stayed up the entire night, not allowing her eyelids to close even for a moment. When dawn's light crept through the drapes, she felt a hollow fill her chest. She knew she had to leave. Charles and the rest of the gang would be worried if she didn't come down for breakfast from her room at the hotel. Resignedly, she gathered herself together and moved to leave. Reaching the door, she watched as Wesley's face contorted in a grimace as he slept. Checking her instinct to run over and hold him, she moved quietly into the hall and left his apartment.
Fred quickly packed as many clothes as she could into the bag, wondering how on earth she'd ever managed to obtain so many. She remembered Cordy dragging her along on many impromptu shopping trips, but had forgotten how much stuff the other woman had bought for her. She hesitated briefly before leaving the hotel, placing her suitcases into the cab's backseat. It had been so hard for her to do this. Charles had been the hardest to convince. She'd told him that she wanted to strike out on her own for a bit, get her own place to live. She'd argued that Angel didn't need a burden like her living at the hotel right now, not when he had his own worries to think about. Charles, of course, had tried to reason with her. She had almost crumbled when he said that the last thing that Angel needed was to lose another person. But then she thought of a lonely, desperate man and became resolute. She told Charles that Angel wasn't losing her; she'd still be around. She just needed her own space, was all. He'd reluctantly agreed, and had offered to help her move. He hadn't liked it one bit when she'd asked that she do this alone. He wanted to know where she'd be. She liked his protectiveness, but she couldn't afford to tell him where she was really going. He was too upset still with Wesley to understand.
Finally, she'd cajoled Charles into letting her move on her own, with promises to call him later that evening to let him know she'd settled in alright. When she'd arrived at Wesley's apartment, she'd found the door locked as usual. When he didn't answer after her repetitive knocks, she could have screamed. There was no way she'd come this far, betrayed Charles' trust, for her to be rejected like this. Briefly, she tried to remember the tricks Cordelia had taught her about how to open doors with credit cards or bobby pins. But those thoughts became useless when the door finally opened, and Wesley stood blinking into the light of the hallway. She pushed her way into the apartment, and blithely told him that she was moving in. He had stood in shock for a moment, but hadn't argued. Which was a good thing, because she was so keyed up that she probably would have flipped out had he argued.
After long, awkward moments of just standing and staring at each other, he went back to his couch and sat down. After long minutes of watching him, Fred realized he wasn't going to move. She took a look around the apartment. The couch he sat on was old and worn- in stark contrast to the sterile bed in the bedroom that looked like it had never been slept on. She nearly smiled at that. She had always pictured Wes coming back to his apartment, studying with his tomes and notes until he finally fell asleep with his head on a book either on the desk or the couch. There wasn't much light in the apartment- it appeared he'd tried to banish all forms of it. Overhead lights were burned out; the curtains were heavy and dark. She sat down hard on the bed, and tried to plan. What on earth should she do next?