Disclaimer: I do not own the following characters, nor do I own Angel the Series. They all belong to their rightful owners.
Before I proceed, I wish to thank MsBuffyBuff for helping me out with this story.
How long has it been since I last held her in my arms? How long has it been since I last conversed with her? Since I last pressed my lips against here? A week, perhaps two? I, truly, do not remember. Like most nights since that... incident, I have found myself sitting on an old, torn couch in my now roach filled apartment with a glass of scotch in hand and a lore book on my lap, along with a few others scattered around
I've drunk the alcohol enough many times that it no longer burns as it runs down my throat. The malt and nutty taste would leave in my mouth and become a part of me, so much so, that I couldn't imagine myself without it. As I gulped down another glass, I heard a soft, female voice with a Texan accent call out to me. "You're not just gonna sit there, drinking, are you?" I rose to my feet and looked over my apartment for the owner of the voice and I came upon a young brunette, with her fairly straight, long hair falling down onto her shoulders. Her brown eyes was bright and her smile warm.
"Fred?" I pinched the bridge of my eyes as I shook my head. There were only two conclusions that I could make: either I had fallen asleep, or I had drunk a little more than usual. Both seemed likely.
"That's me," the young Texan responded cheerfully as she approached me.
"Fred, how can you..." for the first time in my life, words have abandoned me. There was a small part of me that was almost certain that this could not be Fred. The very small part that mostly certain that this was Illyria -The Smurf Bitch from Hell- pretending to be Fred. Yet, when she raised her right hand and pressed it against my cheeks, my suspicions were laid to rest. The softness of her palm, that warmth of her skin and the brightness of her eyes as they looked into mine were all factors that erased any doubt in my mind; this was Fred.
"Fred, how are you here. You're supposed to be..." don't say it. Dammit, don't say it. Don't even think it.
"Do you want me to leave?" she teased.
"No," I gently held unto her hand "Stay, please," I pleaded. I could not bear the thought of losing her, at least, not for the second time.
She leaned forward and pressed her soft, thin lips against mine. For the first time since the night of Fred's passing, I felt comfort.
"I'll never leave you, Wes," she said as she broke up the kiss. "You're my Wesley," she giggled. "but I want you to leave me,"
"What?"
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath "Wesley, do you love me,"
"Of course," I confirmed. "I have and I always will,"
"Then please, Wes, try to live your life, because this," she motioned at the books "ain't exactly living, now is it?"
"The night you died-" I started to pace my apartment quarters "-was the night where I lost any reason to live,"
"You have a reason, Wes,"
"And what might that be?"
"You're a champion, Wesley," she stated as a matter of a fact.
"Angel's the champion. I'm just..."
"Just what? His sidekick? You're the brains of the operation, Wesley, and Angel needs you,"
"Yes, the 'brains of the operation'," I mocked, "so intelligent that I couldn't ev..."
"That you couldn't even what? Couldn't save me?" she interrupted, rather sternly might I add.
"Yes," I responded, softly.
"Wesley," she sighed "you can't save everyone,"
"I'm not talking about saving everyone," I barked "I'm talking about saving you,"
"Well, get over it. They didn't send me here to see if your moping lessons with Angel payed off,"
"You've been sent? By whom?" she pointed upwards. "Oh," I mentally kicked myself for not figuring it out myself. I suppose Fred's presence had taken me aback somewhat that I had not given it much though. She was sent here by The Powers That Be, but for what purpose? I was no Champion, at least, I did not view myself as such. "The Powers didn't just send you here to tell me to 'get over it', did they?"
"No, they sent me here to put you back on track. Angel's track,"
"Angel's path is different from mine," I stated.
"Not too different. You're both heading towards the same destination. Wesley, you need to be ready. You need to make Angel ready,"
"Ready for what, exactly? The apocalypse?" She nodded.
"Something big's coming, Wes, and you..." her voice began to stutter and her eyes began to fill up with tears. She wiped away the few that trickled down.
"I'm not going to make it, am I?" she shook her head. Taking in a deep breath, I walked over to Fred and embraced her as tightly as I could. There may haave been a time in which the idea of dying would have terrified me and one would have not been to far off had they assumed that I would have welcomed it these days. I had no intentions of dying, yet the mere idea of being with Fred, that was most comforting. "It's alright," I comforted her as she wept into my shoulders. "It's alright,".
I broke off the hug and looked into her tearful eyes. "I'll do what you wish, Fred," I promised her. "I'll help Angel, no matter what,"
"Thank you," she said softly as I embraced her once more. We hugged for so long that I eventually found her fading away from my grip. In time, I was standing in the middle of my messy apartment by my lonesome. There was no sign of Fred ever being there. I supposed that's what happens when you communicate with a spirit from the afterlife.
I gathered up some of the books that were lying around the floor and placed them in their shelves. I wondered if it was too early to head back to Wolfram and Hart, looking over my watch, I realised that it would be, given that it was nearly four in the morning. I pinched the bridge of my nose and I thought back to the information that Fred had just presented to me, not of the apocalypse, but of the fact that I would not survive it. Taking in a deep breath, I decided that I would not lock myself in my apartment any longer, drinking myself to sleep. I decided to make full use of the remainder of my days in this world, if not for Angel, then for Fred. Definitely for Fred.