Wesley's eyes are closed and his face is peaceful.
"Do you think he can hear us?"
Angel shook his head as he looked at the man on his sofa. His hands rested easily over his belly and the shirt rumpled where it had pulled free of his trousers. He could see the pale skin beneath, shadowed in the dark light of the room, faintly marked by the efforts of his training. Not, Angel believed as he lifted the fabric slightly, that the man was ever at the top of the class in defence. There are too many marks here for that. Too many scars spread across his skin, worn thin by time where the man grew but the child is forever burdened with the uselessness of his own body.
"He's gonna be pissed when he wakes."
"Aren't they all?" asks Angel and tilted his head, listening. Wherever he looked in this room he could see him. Echoes of what once existed here in those dim sweet days that were but a moment to Angel. His grip on the past was tangible. Sometimes he thinks it's in the room with him and it's no longer his victims who haunt him, but those he failed to help entirely.
He could have helped Lindsey. He could and he knew that. But it was too much, too easy to say the man was evil and walk away. Angel's evil is no longer black and white and it haunts him now. He's a shade of grey himself, as is Spike, but Wesley? Wesley would be white knight forever. Dauntless, courageous and ever willing to do the right thing no matter the cost. There has never been a question for Wesley - he has seen the bigger picture, understood more than just his own goal and sacrificed everything he had to achieve it.
But for Wesley, resting on Angel's sofa, there is finally a choice.
"You're not going to tell me you've done this for the greater good, are you?" asked Spike as he sat on the arm of the chair. He lit the cigarette with a flourish, waving the match until it went out and tossed it onto the carpet. "Because I can see those words forming on your lips. I've done this because it was the right thing to d-"
"It's the only thing I could do," said Angel and sat back slowly. His eyes kept drifting to the still form, waiting, watching for some sign that there's still a man inside. "We needed him."
"We always need someone, but he's replaceable." He took in Angel's expression and shrugged. "We're all replaceable."
"Even you?"
Spike nodded and waved the lip tip in the air, tracing the pattern of his speech slowly. "Well not me, obviously. You need me." He smiled as Angel looked away again. "But for every prophecy that ever existed there was a way to change it. Every man who ever stood up to be counted and wave a sword - what's he got to look forward to? Huh? Just a bloody great hole where his heart used to be." He shook his head. "Man's got to come to terms with it. That's all." Spike nodded to Angel. "You never have."
"I don't need your opinion, Spike."
"You do, or you wouldn't have called me today." Spike drew the slim length of wood from his coat and dropped the leather down. "You would have sat here, watched the dead rise and then moped about losing another one."
"I didn't lose them all," said Angel defensively. He stretched his hand out slowly, looking at the veins that haven't had fresh blood flowing through them in centuries. His muscles still work though. Everything still works and if the world is governed by magic then he is a part of it. Evidence that what was made to be evil can change. He thought he'd changed. He thought that if he met the human he once was, that Angel would have understood the difference. But he knows that Liam wouldn't have understood in the slightest beyond this - he would not want to be what the vampire is now. And even in knowing would have been unwilling, unable to change his fate.
Angel shook his head again. "I didn't lose them all."
"Sure you did. To death, dishonour, destruction." Spike watched the smoke drift up toward the air vent, sucking it from the room and leaving this room sterile. Unmoved. "This is all you had left and you wanted to keep it."
"Kept you, didn't I?" murmured Angel and hears the chuckle, knew that Spike was shaking his head without looking.
"You never had me," said Spike easily. "You never wanted me."
"In my own way-"
"No!" Angel turned at the sharpness in his tone, but the other vampire wasn't looking. He was as lost as Angel found himself, whispers of the past back but not to haunt him. "You wanted rid of me. You wanted to show me you were in charge. You were the big man." Angel saw the edge of his mouth curl up. "Well who feels like the big man now? Everybody dead."
"Not him," said Angel and Spike nodded vigorously.
"Yes him. You know he's had it."
Angel licked over his bottom lip and stood up, walked over to the prone form and stretched his fingers out. Wesley's face looked somehow nude without his glasses, more vulnerable now although it was a long time since Angel had seen him wear them. But recently, as though it was all he had to hold onto, Wesley had worn them again, touching the thin frame on an almost ritual basis as he worked hard, tried hard to find a solution that would now never come to him. Unless he woke up again. "He's going to be fine."
"He's going to be a bloody killer and you know it." Spike shook his head and tried to clear it. "Soul or no soul, he'll crave death and carnage, same as we did. He's not gonna be looking for some pretty little answer to the end of the world just to save your arse."
"He might," murmured Angel and drew his finger down over Wesley's cheek, brushing away the specs of dirt that had gathered there. "He might for the greater good."
"What you bring back won't even remember how to be good," said Spike and smiled again. "But I bet he's just what this place wanted." He snorted. "He sees the bigger picture."
Angel closes his eyes. "He shouldn't have to."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well life's just like that, pal. One minute you're reading books and figuring out how to set the world to rights and then some hot chick does a little blood swapping and suddenly you're the enemy." He shook his head. "Justify it how you like. Doesn't make a blind bit of difference in the end."
"It does," said Angel firmly as he reached Wesley's jaw and he swore, just for a moment that the man turned toward him. He always did, he remembered. Wesley's loyalty has always been without question and no matter how many times he said it was to the vampire, Angel always knew different. Knew better. He leaned down closer, feeling the pliancy of the skin beneath his fingers and he could smell the difference already. No whiskey on his breath now, no breath to have whiskey on and Angel turned suddenly away to look at Spike again.
"It does make a difference. I made it a difference. Now you got a problem with that, you get the hell out."
"Oh? So you call me over and now you want to complain that I'm not sitting here and kissing your rear end for adding to the ranks?" Spike stubbed out the cigarette and stood up. "You just wanted someone around to share the blame when you killed him."
"I didn't kill him."
"Yes you did. Just like you killed all the rest of them." Spike leaned forward, his mouth close to Angel's ear. "Just like you killed me."
Angel scrunched his face up. "I did not kill you. That's just..." he waved Spike away with his hand. "Drusilla-"
"And who killed her, hmm?" Spike moved round the couch, almost gliding as he knelt beside the sleeping figure. "It always comes back to you, Angel. All roads and all that. Always some big sign pointing to you." He tilted his head as Wesley's chest rose slowly. "Look at that, would you? Still trying to breathe."
"He still thinks he's human," said Angel, barely suppressing a smile. "He's still Wesley."
Spike tilted his head as Wesley opened his eyes. "Sure he is."
Angel nodded as he leaned down, barely more than a kiss space away. "He is. You are." His hand brushed up to the stiff spikes that clotted at Wesley's temple. He lowered his voice to whisper against Wesley's ear. "You will be."
"He'll kill you first."
Angel turned to look at Spike and swallowed against a dry throat. "You're the one always telling me to look on the bright side. To enjoy life."
"Well that's the thing, isn't it, you're not alive. He's not alive and our business is ending things, Angel!" Spike shook his head and then stretched his hand up to rub along his cheekbone as he tried to not push the stake through the both of them. "We deal in death, not birth. We're definitely not equipped for that and you should just bloody well stop this before he comes back and finds out what the hell you've done."
"He's here," said Angel and watched as Wesley opened his eyes to look at the world from this angle and he really couldn't help wanting to be the first thing this vampire sees. Wesley blinked slowly and stretched his hand out, lifting it from the sofa to touch the carefully groomed cheek.
"Angel," he said slowly and smiles, his eyes focussing again in the dimness of shadowed glass. Angel reached for water to ease his throat, but Wesley smiled beatifically and stroked his cheek. "I thought it was the end."
Angel shook his head. "A beginning," he said but his voice broke in the empty air and he smiled at the fallen. "Something new."
Wesley stared at him and then beyond to where Spike loomed in the darkness. Drawn large there by his passion and the Watcher turned his head slowly from side to side, blood still in his mouth. "No. Not new. Old." His eyes flickered back to Angel. "Wordlessly old."
"Hardly bloody wordless," murmured Spike as Wesley sat up. "You've got thousands for our type, sunshine. Some of them even in English."
Wesley's gaze never left Angel's face but he brought his hand away to touch his belly, feeling the blood there and the wound that had not yet closed. "I died for you," he said softly and stood. Turned. Ran. Out the window and into the blazing sun that consumed his body in less than a minute. Thirty- seven seconds by Angel's count but he wasn't entirely sure. Not even when Spike wrapped his arm round his belly to stop him following the newborn.
"He died a hero," said Spike slowly, mouth pressed to Angel's ear. "He died so others might live. Let him have that. It's a cliché worth remembering."
"I could have made him great," said Angel. "His soul-"
"Is gone." Spike insisted. "Like yours was. Like mine was. There's no bending of the rules just because it's you, Angel."
Angel stared at the light. "I could have got it him back. Could have made him Shanshu."
"Nice to be in on the consideration," said Spike and let go as he gestured to the broken glass with a smile. "Go on then, take your walk in the sun."
Angel just stared, eyes dry, skin wet. "They all leave me."
"Yeah," said Spike and shrugged back into his coat as he stepped toward the door and tossed the stake toward Angel's feet. "They all leave. They die. They're human, Angel. It's what humans do. But you and me, we keep going until someone sticks the boot in." He huffed as he opened the door and looked out into the shaky building beyond. He closed his eyes and didn't picture the vampire behind him. "And sometimes we keep going even then." He smiled and stepped into the beyond. "Good night, Angel. Sleep tight. Don't dream of me."
Angel shook his head. "I never do." He turned his head slightly to follow the departing figure. "That's why you're still here."
fin
"Do you think he can hear us?"
Angel shook his head as he looked at the man on his sofa. His hands rested easily over his belly and the shirt rumpled where it had pulled free of his trousers. He could see the pale skin beneath, shadowed in the dark light of the room, faintly marked by the efforts of his training. Not, Angel believed as he lifted the fabric slightly, that the man was ever at the top of the class in defence. There are too many marks here for that. Too many scars spread across his skin, worn thin by time where the man grew but the child is forever burdened with the uselessness of his own body.
"He's gonna be pissed when he wakes."
"Aren't they all?" asks Angel and tilted his head, listening. Wherever he looked in this room he could see him. Echoes of what once existed here in those dim sweet days that were but a moment to Angel. His grip on the past was tangible. Sometimes he thinks it's in the room with him and it's no longer his victims who haunt him, but those he failed to help entirely.
He could have helped Lindsey. He could and he knew that. But it was too much, too easy to say the man was evil and walk away. Angel's evil is no longer black and white and it haunts him now. He's a shade of grey himself, as is Spike, but Wesley? Wesley would be white knight forever. Dauntless, courageous and ever willing to do the right thing no matter the cost. There has never been a question for Wesley - he has seen the bigger picture, understood more than just his own goal and sacrificed everything he had to achieve it.
But for Wesley, resting on Angel's sofa, there is finally a choice.
"You're not going to tell me you've done this for the greater good, are you?" asked Spike as he sat on the arm of the chair. He lit the cigarette with a flourish, waving the match until it went out and tossed it onto the carpet. "Because I can see those words forming on your lips. I've done this because it was the right thing to d-"
"It's the only thing I could do," said Angel and sat back slowly. His eyes kept drifting to the still form, waiting, watching for some sign that there's still a man inside. "We needed him."
"We always need someone, but he's replaceable." He took in Angel's expression and shrugged. "We're all replaceable."
"Even you?"
Spike nodded and waved the lip tip in the air, tracing the pattern of his speech slowly. "Well not me, obviously. You need me." He smiled as Angel looked away again. "But for every prophecy that ever existed there was a way to change it. Every man who ever stood up to be counted and wave a sword - what's he got to look forward to? Huh? Just a bloody great hole where his heart used to be." He shook his head. "Man's got to come to terms with it. That's all." Spike nodded to Angel. "You never have."
"I don't need your opinion, Spike."
"You do, or you wouldn't have called me today." Spike drew the slim length of wood from his coat and dropped the leather down. "You would have sat here, watched the dead rise and then moped about losing another one."
"I didn't lose them all," said Angel defensively. He stretched his hand out slowly, looking at the veins that haven't had fresh blood flowing through them in centuries. His muscles still work though. Everything still works and if the world is governed by magic then he is a part of it. Evidence that what was made to be evil can change. He thought he'd changed. He thought that if he met the human he once was, that Angel would have understood the difference. But he knows that Liam wouldn't have understood in the slightest beyond this - he would not want to be what the vampire is now. And even in knowing would have been unwilling, unable to change his fate.
Angel shook his head again. "I didn't lose them all."
"Sure you did. To death, dishonour, destruction." Spike watched the smoke drift up toward the air vent, sucking it from the room and leaving this room sterile. Unmoved. "This is all you had left and you wanted to keep it."
"Kept you, didn't I?" murmured Angel and hears the chuckle, knew that Spike was shaking his head without looking.
"You never had me," said Spike easily. "You never wanted me."
"In my own way-"
"No!" Angel turned at the sharpness in his tone, but the other vampire wasn't looking. He was as lost as Angel found himself, whispers of the past back but not to haunt him. "You wanted rid of me. You wanted to show me you were in charge. You were the big man." Angel saw the edge of his mouth curl up. "Well who feels like the big man now? Everybody dead."
"Not him," said Angel and Spike nodded vigorously.
"Yes him. You know he's had it."
Angel licked over his bottom lip and stood up, walked over to the prone form and stretched his fingers out. Wesley's face looked somehow nude without his glasses, more vulnerable now although it was a long time since Angel had seen him wear them. But recently, as though it was all he had to hold onto, Wesley had worn them again, touching the thin frame on an almost ritual basis as he worked hard, tried hard to find a solution that would now never come to him. Unless he woke up again. "He's going to be fine."
"He's going to be a bloody killer and you know it." Spike shook his head and tried to clear it. "Soul or no soul, he'll crave death and carnage, same as we did. He's not gonna be looking for some pretty little answer to the end of the world just to save your arse."
"He might," murmured Angel and drew his finger down over Wesley's cheek, brushing away the specs of dirt that had gathered there. "He might for the greater good."
"What you bring back won't even remember how to be good," said Spike and smiled again. "But I bet he's just what this place wanted." He snorted. "He sees the bigger picture."
Angel closes his eyes. "He shouldn't have to."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well life's just like that, pal. One minute you're reading books and figuring out how to set the world to rights and then some hot chick does a little blood swapping and suddenly you're the enemy." He shook his head. "Justify it how you like. Doesn't make a blind bit of difference in the end."
"It does," said Angel firmly as he reached Wesley's jaw and he swore, just for a moment that the man turned toward him. He always did, he remembered. Wesley's loyalty has always been without question and no matter how many times he said it was to the vampire, Angel always knew different. Knew better. He leaned down closer, feeling the pliancy of the skin beneath his fingers and he could smell the difference already. No whiskey on his breath now, no breath to have whiskey on and Angel turned suddenly away to look at Spike again.
"It does make a difference. I made it a difference. Now you got a problem with that, you get the hell out."
"Oh? So you call me over and now you want to complain that I'm not sitting here and kissing your rear end for adding to the ranks?" Spike stubbed out the cigarette and stood up. "You just wanted someone around to share the blame when you killed him."
"I didn't kill him."
"Yes you did. Just like you killed all the rest of them." Spike leaned forward, his mouth close to Angel's ear. "Just like you killed me."
Angel scrunched his face up. "I did not kill you. That's just..." he waved Spike away with his hand. "Drusilla-"
"And who killed her, hmm?" Spike moved round the couch, almost gliding as he knelt beside the sleeping figure. "It always comes back to you, Angel. All roads and all that. Always some big sign pointing to you." He tilted his head as Wesley's chest rose slowly. "Look at that, would you? Still trying to breathe."
"He still thinks he's human," said Angel, barely suppressing a smile. "He's still Wesley."
Spike tilted his head as Wesley opened his eyes. "Sure he is."
Angel nodded as he leaned down, barely more than a kiss space away. "He is. You are." His hand brushed up to the stiff spikes that clotted at Wesley's temple. He lowered his voice to whisper against Wesley's ear. "You will be."
"He'll kill you first."
Angel turned to look at Spike and swallowed against a dry throat. "You're the one always telling me to look on the bright side. To enjoy life."
"Well that's the thing, isn't it, you're not alive. He's not alive and our business is ending things, Angel!" Spike shook his head and then stretched his hand up to rub along his cheekbone as he tried to not push the stake through the both of them. "We deal in death, not birth. We're definitely not equipped for that and you should just bloody well stop this before he comes back and finds out what the hell you've done."
"He's here," said Angel and watched as Wesley opened his eyes to look at the world from this angle and he really couldn't help wanting to be the first thing this vampire sees. Wesley blinked slowly and stretched his hand out, lifting it from the sofa to touch the carefully groomed cheek.
"Angel," he said slowly and smiles, his eyes focussing again in the dimness of shadowed glass. Angel reached for water to ease his throat, but Wesley smiled beatifically and stroked his cheek. "I thought it was the end."
Angel shook his head. "A beginning," he said but his voice broke in the empty air and he smiled at the fallen. "Something new."
Wesley stared at him and then beyond to where Spike loomed in the darkness. Drawn large there by his passion and the Watcher turned his head slowly from side to side, blood still in his mouth. "No. Not new. Old." His eyes flickered back to Angel. "Wordlessly old."
"Hardly bloody wordless," murmured Spike as Wesley sat up. "You've got thousands for our type, sunshine. Some of them even in English."
Wesley's gaze never left Angel's face but he brought his hand away to touch his belly, feeling the blood there and the wound that had not yet closed. "I died for you," he said softly and stood. Turned. Ran. Out the window and into the blazing sun that consumed his body in less than a minute. Thirty- seven seconds by Angel's count but he wasn't entirely sure. Not even when Spike wrapped his arm round his belly to stop him following the newborn.
"He died a hero," said Spike slowly, mouth pressed to Angel's ear. "He died so others might live. Let him have that. It's a cliché worth remembering."
"I could have made him great," said Angel. "His soul-"
"Is gone." Spike insisted. "Like yours was. Like mine was. There's no bending of the rules just because it's you, Angel."
Angel stared at the light. "I could have got it him back. Could have made him Shanshu."
"Nice to be in on the consideration," said Spike and let go as he gestured to the broken glass with a smile. "Go on then, take your walk in the sun."
Angel just stared, eyes dry, skin wet. "They all leave me."
"Yeah," said Spike and shrugged back into his coat as he stepped toward the door and tossed the stake toward Angel's feet. "They all leave. They die. They're human, Angel. It's what humans do. But you and me, we keep going until someone sticks the boot in." He huffed as he opened the door and looked out into the shaky building beyond. He closed his eyes and didn't picture the vampire behind him. "And sometimes we keep going even then." He smiled and stepped into the beyond. "Good night, Angel. Sleep tight. Don't dream of me."
Angel shook his head. "I never do." He turned his head slightly to follow the departing figure. "That's why you're still here."
fin