FALLING

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Author: donnatellaMarks

Dislcaimer: Alas, not mine.

Spoilers: Episode 2, Just Rewards, of Angel Season Five, the ending scenes

Distribution: umm, fanfiction.net and my site, . Anyone else is welcomed to have it. Just tell me where it is so I can brag to my friends.

Feedback: Hell yes! Sundevil009@yahoo.com

Summary: During an encounter with Spike, Fred realizes she's not the same girl she used to be. Fred POV.

A/N- This is my first Fred fic, so I'm sorry if it's OOC.

So it begins…

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He looks at me with those clear blue eyes and I cant help but melt a little. Sure, he's evil…. Right?

I'm not so sure anymore. I'm not so sure of anything anymore.

When I was little, I played with dolls. I would create little worlds and I never had to worry that something bad would happen. It wouldn't. Little Miss Suzy would protect me, keep me safe. I'd never be sad or lonely or hurt.

When I grew older, I put away those dolls and turned to books instead. It wasn't much different. I knew my books would keep me safe. They'd never hurt me. They weren't like my first boyfriend. They wouldn't tell you they loved you then sleep with someone else.

His eyes are piecing me as I shift back, moving away from him. I was always a sucker for blue eyes. Wesley's eyes are blue, too. When he takes of his glasses you can see right into him.

It's kind of like that with Spike too, I guess. He looks so...vulnerable. He curses and yells and scares me little…okay, scares me a lot, but when I look into his eyes I can't stop that maternal part of me that wants to hug him so he feels at least a little better.

I used to trust everybody. My dolls, my parents, my friends, my teachers--look where that got me. A slave in Pylea for five years. Five years of my life I'm never getting back.

Now, one could argue that if Pylea never happened, I would still be a physics student. I would still be working at the library part-time to earn some extra money. I would never have met Angel, Cordelia, Wesley, or Gunn.

I know about darkness now. I know things aren't always as they seem. I've quelled my first instinct of always trusting everybody. I'm no longer that naïve little girl.

I'm not so sure that's a good thing.

What ever happened to that physics student? Where'd she go? When did I morph into this woman running a laboratory at Evil Incorporated, trying to do good but always pulled down by the evil. I'm always wary, I always look behind me.

I look at my life and realize it's been almost three years since Pylea. Where did all that time go? Why did I change, and why the hell don't I remember it happening?

Spike's looking at me again, his eyes full of pain and fear.

"I'm slippin'."

"What?" I ask, confused. I turn away from his piercing stare. His eyes are clear blue pools that I just want to drown in. I want to take away the swirling torrent of agony that is just visible when you look into them. No! I tell myself. He a vampire! Then again, Angel is a vampire too. So that argument is pretty much null and void. But he's hurt Angel, I reason. But I've never met Angelus, and I'm willing to bet he hurt Spike as well. He looks torn, trying to decide whether or not to say anything.

" Don't wanna go, but it's like... It's like the ground underneath me is... splitting open and my legs are... straddling both sides of this bloody big chasm. It's getting wider, pulling me in."

My heart breaks for him. The evil vampire argument isn't going to hold up anymore. He's not lying. He's not. There is too much pain for him to be lying, and he's not that good an actor. I may have been a naïve little girl, but I could always pick out a liar.

But then again, I'm not that little girl anymore. I can barely remember the past two years of my life. I've changed. My world has changed. If my memory's going, what about my other senses?

He's losing himself. He's leaning over the edge and one of these days he's going to fall. I guess that's why I want to help him so badly. I've already fallen.

I've already lost myself. And there isn't anything I can do about it.

Hopefully, my truth-finding sense hasn't completely deserted me. I want to believe him. Badly. And then I want to give him a hug.

"Help me?" he asks quietly, and I know that this is more than hard for him. He's plead his case, he's waiting for judgement.

"Okay," I say simply.

I'll help him because I can't help myself.

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