(Warning: Dark fic, graphic goriness)
Title: Look At Me, See Me
Flash.
"Hey, Angel. Where's Wes?"
"Oh, Gunn. He said he's going to his parents this Christmas."
"Are you sure it's such a good idea? I mean"
"I know what you mean, but… he wanted to go. Said he had to take care of a few things."
Flash.
"I brought everyone presents!"
"Hey Cordy. Ooh, is mine the big one?"
"Gunn, size doesn't always matter. Anyway, I got one for Wesley but I just remembered that he wasn't here."
"Don't worry. We'll just keep it here until he comes back."
Flash.
Flash.
"To Us."
"And to Wes, with whatever issue he's resolving back in merry England. Stay strong, man."
"He'll always have a family waiting right here, ready to welcome him home with open arms."
Flash.
Flash.
Flash. pzzztt. "I think that's it."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"So who was at the door, Cordy?" Angel asked her as he was putting away the last of the wine glasses.
"Oh, just an express delivery guy. There's a package for you." Cordelia showed Angel the small package in her hand and Angel went to take it from her. "Ooh, is it from a secret admirer?" She said as she tried to take a peek as Angel was opening the package.
"Cordy." Angel said as he moved away for some privacy. Cordelia let out an exaggerated huff but not really angry, and went to the reception area while saying things like "fine" and "whatever".
Angel smiled at her behaviour and continued tearing away at the brown wrapping. Under it was a plain rectangular box with the words 'Have A Merry Christmas' in small letters on the front.
Angel was instantly curious and opened the box slowly. Inside he found a deck of postcards. He flipped the box over, taking out the entire deck and turned it right side up, casually dropping the forgotten box onto the floor. The first was a black postcard with only the words 'How was your Christmas?' in small white letters in the middle.
Angel thought that it was a strange package to receive but shrugged it off and moved that postcard to the bottom of the pile. The next one was the same but had a different sentence; 'I hope you had fun.'
By this time Angel felt that something was not right but he couldn't figure what. He almost didn't want to know what the next one said but forced himself to continue.
Angel felt like a heavy burden was put on top of him when he read the next simple words: 'We sure did.'
Slowly with dread tugging at his heart, Angel held the corner of the postcard and moved it out of the way, revealing what came next.
The atmosphere suddenly fell to sub-zero levels and everything else around him turned to darkness. Angel felt himself choke and his eyes widened at what he saw.
It wasn't another postcard, but a photo. Of Wesley.
"Angel, what's wrong? Angel?"
But Angel didn't hear her. His mind only registered the photo that he was holding in his hands.
The tight shots showed Wesley with a blindfold on, sitting on the floor in a room with stone walls. His hands were chained to the wall above him, one higher than the other, making his body lean slightly to the right. His face was bruised, his lip was cut and his earlier sharp clothes were now in tatters and heavily stained with blood. His mouth was slightly open like as if he was having trouble breathing and his body gleamed with sweat.
Even without smelling him or seeing his eyes, Angel could see the fear in him.
Angel didn't realize that he was gripping until he heard a gasp beside him. He turned to see that Cordelia was right next to him and also saw the photo. She became speechless with horror but Angel couldn't force himself to do anything about her. He turned back to the photo.
Carelessly, he threw that one and it fell to the floor, revealing more ghastly photos. Angel went through them in quickening pace. One by one, the pictures showed various close-ups of Wesley – his bloodied ear, his gasping mouth, his shoeless left foot… until the next few resumed to postcards. Angel stopped then slowed his pace as he read each one with careful deliberation:
'Isn't it ironic…?'
'What do you call'
'a Watcher'
'who can'
'no longer'
'Watch?'
Angel looked at the last postcard which was the second last item in the deck and suddenly felt a single tear run down his face. Angel felt and knew that the last one was the final photo; he just didn't know if he had enough strength to reveal it. He held the edge of the photo and let the postcard on top slip down.
The last picture chilled Angel's bones and reduced everything to silence.
Wesley was still where he was, in the same position as in the other photos. But this time the blindfolds were off and his eyes were closed. But angel knew that he would never see them open again because slithering down Wesley's faces was a vast amount of blood that streamed down his shirt and lead from the bottom of his closed eyelids. His eyes – Angel knew they were gone. He stared at the red dripping word that was carved deep on Wesley's forehead as the conclusion to the sick joke:
'Ex-Watcher'
Angel felt sick.