By Vengeance Girl
DISCLAIMER: In the alternative world where anthropology is "like, snails and stuff", and Alyson Hannigan gives me prophecies in dreams (ones that come true, anyway), I own all these characters. Surprisingly, it ain't this one!
SPOILERS: Sleep Tight. Big huge honking ones for Sleep Tight!
SUMMARY: Set straight after Sleep Tight. Wesley survives, and everyone has to face up to some stuff.
RATING: PG
PAIRING: Wes/Fred
FEEDBACK: Please! To rach@wholenew.deep-ice.com
DISTRIBUTION: The usual places, you know who you are. Anywhere else, please ask :-) I don't bite!
AUTHORS NOTE: Thanks to Selina for listening to my yabbering, and Regina for reading it and telling me it all makes sense *g*
****
Fred jumped out of Gunn's truck as they pulled up outside Wesley's apartment. Running up to the door, she hammered on it. Gunn didn't follow her.
"Fred," he called, softly. "Fred, his car's gone."
"That doesn't mean anything. It could be a decoy, or … anything." Gunn sensed the panic in her voice.
"Fred, he's gone."
She turned from the door, and walked slowly back towards Gunn. "I know." She sighed. "I can't believe he would do something like this, you know?"
"He must have had his reasons. We just … don't know what they were." He moved to climb back into the truck. "Come on. He might be back at the hotel by now."
"Excuse me? Are you two looking for Mr Wyndham-Pryce?" An elderly woman with white hair and a pleasant face stepped across the street.
"Yes!" Fred exclaimed. "We are - have you seen him?"
"I have ... I live just near him. Nice young man."
"But where did you see him?" Fred questioned, impatiently.
"Last I saw of him, he was in the back of an ambulance - I found him on the ground near here a while ago."
"On the ground …" Fred's voice trailed off and she paled. "What was he doing on the ground?"
"He looked like he'd been attacked with a knife - honey, he'd had his throat cut."
"No" Fred whispered. Gunn jumped forward to catch her as her knees buckled. He held back the cry he felt in his throat and looked the woman in the eye.
"Is he … is he … did he … you know … die?"
"The paramedics said I got to him just in time … a few minutes longer and he would have been gone."
"Thank God."
"But it still looked pretty awful."
****
Fred dashed into the hospital the lady had directed them to. Running up to the reception desk, she practically yelled at the receptionist.
"Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. Is he in here?"
"Well … just let me check. What's wrong with him?"
"He had his throat slashed." Fred spat the words out; she could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her. Who would dare do something like that to Wesley?
The woman searched through her files for a few seconds, asking Fred to spell out Wes's surname.
"Oh, here we go. Ah."
"Ah? What 'ah'?"
"Well, he's been very badly hurt. I'll have to check with the doctor if you can see him."
"But he's alive," Gunn interjected. The woman gave him a sympathetic smile, and left without saying a word.
"Oh God oh God oh God - he's gonna die," Fred had tears streaming down her face. Gunn turned around to face her, and held tightly onto her shoulders.
"Hey, he is NOT gonna die. We won't let him. Right?"
She looked up into his eyes, and saw the determination there. She choked down the next sob, and nodded at him.
"Uh, miss?" The receptionist had returned to her desk, and this time a nurse was with her.
"Are you family?" The nurse directed the question at Fred. She looked at Gunn, and mouthed 'sorry'.
"Yeah. I'm his fiancée. This is his brother."
"Well, miss …"
"Burkle"
"Miss Burkle. Your boyfriend has lost a lot of blood. You're very lucky he was brought in when he was." Fred nodded.
"But can I see him?"
"Only for a few minutes. He's still unconscious, and he looks very ill - he *is* very ill. He'll have a lot of machines attached, but try to ignore them. Talk to him - they say having someone close to him might help him, even if he can't hear you he may sense you." Fred nodded again, dumbly. "Only one of you can go in right now."
Gunn looked at Fred and smiled slightly. "Go on. You go."
Fred followed the nurse through to a room slightly apart from the rest of the emergency unit. She gasped when she saw Wesley. His skin was pale almost to the point of being completely white, and, as she'd expected, his neck was covered in bandages. Machines were plugged into him all over his body, measuring and recording various statistics - she would have worked out which did what if she hadn't been so worried for Wesley.
Fred pulled the room's one chair by the side of Wesley's bed as the nurse tapped her watch and closed the door. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, she placed her hand on top of his, and was shocked at how cold he felt. Wrapping her fingers around his hand, she began to gently stroke it while she spoke.
"Oh, Wesley," she sighed. "How did we let this happen to you? I knew there was something wrong ... I thought it was just because Gunn and I were spending too much time together at work. I should have known there was something else - instead I just tried to fix you up with another woman. I wanted you to be happy like I thought I was ... in the end, we've both lost, Wes. Please don't die on me, I couldn't cope without you. You're my best friend. I could talk to you about anything - I should have returned the favour when you needed it." She looked up, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I love you, Wesley."
"The nurse says you have to leave now, Fred." Fred spun around to see Gunn standing in the doorway, a pained expression on his face. She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. "It's okay. I think I always knew."
She stood and walked over to join him at the door, the tears now freely flowing. "I'm so, so sorry, Charles." She didn't know what else to say.
"Do you mind if ... can we not do this now?"
"Fred? Gunn?" A new voice floated through the door as a breathless Cordelia rushed up to them. Gunn was glad of the interruption. "Where's..." she trailed off as she saw Wesley lying there, motionless. "Oh, God," she whispered. "What happened?"
"The nurse said ... uhm ... she said he was lucky." Cordelia had to strain to hear Fred's voice. "We don't know what happened. Someone found him near his house, and rushed him straight here." A different nurse bustled past them and closed the door, leaving the three of them to watch through the window as she and the first nurse checked each of the monitors was doing it's job correctly. "How did you know we were here?" Fred wiped her nose on the back of her hand as she spoke. "The hospital called. They said they found his business card in his jacket. I came here as soon as I got back and picked up the message."
"What about Groo?"
"I left him at the hotel with Lorne."
"Oh." The three stood in silence for what seemed like hours before the nurses left the room, closing the door behind her. The one Fred had spoken to earlier walked over to them.
"He's been very lucky, but..." she looked at Cordelia. "Who are you?"
"His sister," Fred interjected, before Cordelia had a chance to reply.
"Right." The nurse looked slightly suspicious, but carried on anyway. She had doubted the black guy was the man's brother, but they obviously all cared a great deal for him, so she let it pass. Especially as he was going to need his friends around him to pull through something like this. "Well, as I told you before, Miss Burkle, he's been very lucky. He seems to have stabilized now, but we'll be keeping a very close eye on him over the next forty-eight hours. He'll be very weak for some time to come, and it could be months before he is able to speak again. We haven't been able to establish yet whether any serious damage has occurred to the windpipe."
"But he's going to be okay?" Fred didn't dare let herself believe it was true until she was assured - she was worried something would go wrong and he'd be taken away from her after all. "It seems that way." The nurse looked up at them. "The police will probably want to talk to you - do you know anyone that would want to do this?"
Gunn and Cordelia exchanged a glance, Fred not taking her eyes from Wesley's bed through the window.
"No," replied Gunn. "I can't think of anyone."
"Well, I suggest you all go home for the night. You'll be able to see him for a little longer in the morning."
"I want to stay." Gunn saw the determination in Fred's face, something he'd seen many times before. He'd ignored her wishes one too many times, and now he'd lost her. He wasn't going to hurt her any more.
"If you want to stay, I'll go back to the hotel and get you some things."
Fred smiled briefly. "That'd be great, Charles." She turned to the nurse. "Is that okay? I don't want to leave him ... I'll just stay out here, on these chairs. I'll be no trouble."
The nurse smiled. "Sure, honey. But make sure you get some proper rest, or you won't be any good to him when he wakes up."
****
Gunn pulled the truck up outside the Hyperion, and he and Cordelia jumped out. As they walked towards the entrance, Cordy turned to Gunn.
"Gunn?"
"Yeah?"
"Has something happened between you and Fred while I've been away?"
He sighed. "Score one for the vision girl. We broke up."
"I'm so sorry, Gunn. When did this happen?"
"Earlier tonight, when we got to the hospital. You arrived just before the deep and meaningful, which, by the way, I'm thankful for, because I'm really not ready for that."
"Are you okay?" She sighed at her own stupidity. "Of course you aren't, that was a dumb question."
"I'll survive. Which is something that Wes will be lucky to do. He needs us right now, forget about me. Go grab some things for Fred; I'll be waiting in the truck. I'll drop you home before I go back to the hospital."
****
Fred rearranged herself in the hard hospital chair. She was thankful for the jumper Gunn had brought her, as it was cold. The nurse had found her a pillow and a duvet, but she just couldn't get comfortable. She wondered where Angel was. A glance at her watch told her that it was almost time for the sun to rise, and on her last venture outside to use her cell phone she'd been informed by Lorne that Angel and Connor were still nowhere to be found. They had no reason to believe that they were together, after all, Wes had been the last person seen with Connor, but she knew that Wes wouldn't have given Connor up without a fight. Whatever Angel thought of him right now, he would never willingly betray any of them, least of all Angel. Sentiments that had, it seemed, led to his throat being slashed open. Meaning that there was a good chance Holtz now had Connor, and wherever Holtz was, Angel would be headed.
She hoped he didn't do anything stupid.
****
Gunn lay in bed, unable to sleep. He wanted to be at the hospital with Fred, keeping watch over Wesley, but he knew there was no point in them both being there. If anything happened, she would call him. And as much as he hated to admit it, he knew that being alone with her right now would be awkward for both of them.
He'd always known she liked Wesley. Even when she denied it to him, the look in her eyes told him otherwise. He didn't mind, though. As long as she was happy, he was happy. He'd always expected this to happen at some point ... only now it had, he didn't really know what to do with himself. He turned over one last time, and pulled the covers over his head, shutting his eyes tight, trying to think of nice things. It had always worked when he was a little boy, his mom tucking him back into bed after he'd had a nightmare. Only now, the things in those nightmares were in his everyday life. So he should have had nothing left to be scared of, but he found it didn't work like that. It just made the little things, like being alone, even harder.
****
Wesley wanted to wake up. He could hear buzzing around him, he knew something was going on, only he couldn't tell what. He tried again to open his eyes, to no avail. He tried opening his mouth. That didn't work either; it just made his throat throb even more. His arms and legs seemed glued to whatever he was lying on.
He was frightened. He didn't know why he couldn't get up. Maybe it was a curse. 'Curse, I can handle' he thought. 'I'll use my books'. Then he remembered he couldn't. No movement, equals no books.
He tried one last time to prise his eyes open. This time a flicker of light was let in through his eyelids. It was working. One more try, and they were almost open, only now it was too bright and he had to close them again just as quickly.
****
"Wesley!" Fred had been standing by the window for almost ten minutes when she saw his eyelids flutter. At first she thought it was just a trick of the light, she was seeing things because she was tired. But then he did it again. "Nurse! Nurse! He's awake!"
A different nurse came dashing round the corner. This one had started her shift a couple of hours previously - Fred vaguely remembered being introduced to her when the original nurse had gone home to bed. Bed. Somewhere Wesley should be, at home in his own, not here in a hospital bed. He didn't deserve to be.
"What happened?" The nurse opened the door to Wesley's room, and Fred slipped in beside her.
"His eyes moved. His eyelids, they fluttered. He's waking up."
"There's a possibility that's just a reaction to some of the medication. I wouldn't get your hopes up just yet."
"He's waking up," Fred repeated, through gritted teeth.
"We'll see."
****
He could hear more noises now. Having experienced the pain of the bright light once already, he decided to try something else. Summoning all the energy he could find, he tried to move his little finger.
"His finger!" Fred? It sounded so much like her, and yet ... so distant, so far away. He tried to move it again, and this time it lifted completely off the surface he was lying on. Another voice, one he didn't recognise, spoke.
"Well, Miss Burkle, it seems there is a good chance you're right." It was Fred. He had known it was.
"Wesley? Can you hear me?" He felt something warm touch his hand, and realised immediately that the smooth surface he could feel was her skin. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but his lips were too dry and his throat hurt too much. Instead he squeezed her hand with as much strength as he could muster, but he realised that it was about as powerful as Cordelia would have been against a vampire when she was still in Sunnydale. But it was enough.
"He squeezed my hand." She'd felt it then. "Wesley, I'm here. You're going to be okay."
He was glad to know that, but he'd like to know what was the matter in the first place. He tried again to speak, but only a tiny croak emerged from his throat, and it hurt like hell.
"Shh, don't try to speak. The doctors said your throat might take months to heal. It depends how much damage was done to the windpipe. But you're going to be okay, and that's what's important." Suddenly it all came back to him. As the images flashed through his mind - him knocking Lorne out, him taking Connor from Angel, Justine slitting his throat, the sounds as she drove away in his car, taking Connor with her, - his eyes flew open. God, what had he done? Did she know? How could she even talk to him if she knew? He wanted to cry, but his body wouldn't let him.
****
"Charles, it's me. Wesley's awake."
Gunn glanced at the clock beside his bed, while his brain whirred into motion, processing what Fred had said. He'd eventually gotten to sleep a little before dawn, to be awoken what seemed like only seconds later by the phone's shrill ring from it's place beside his ear.
"I'm on my way," he replied, hanging up. Suddenly awake and annoyed that he wasn't with his friend already, he dashed around his apartment, grabbing the clothes head worn yesterday from the heap he'd left them in on the floor.
Slamming the door shut behind him, he rummaged in his pocket for his cell phone and dialled Cordelia. He climbed into his truck as he listened through the message, waiting impatiently for the beep.
"Cordelia, it's Gunn. I just had a call from Fred, Wes is awake. I'll be outside your apartment in ten minutes. If you wanna come along, that's great. If not, I'll see you there." Hanging up, he put his foot on the gas, and headed for Cordelia's as fast as he could.
****
Fred stroked Wesley's hand as she spoke to him. She knew he couldn't reply, but his eyes told stories all by themselves.
"I knew you'd make it. You're too strong to die like that. You've survived so much - all the stories Cordy and Gunn told me show how strong you are. A bomb went off practically in your face, you made it. You got shot, you made it. You got tortured, and still, you lived through it. You made it because you had your friends to help you through it. Your *real* family. We should have been there for you tonight - we've all been so involved in our own petty little things that you felt you couldn't talk to us, and we're sorry for that. At least, I know I am." She felt another tear run down her face as he turned his head more towards her, and squeezed her hand again. "And we'll all be there to help you through this, too."
"You know we will." Fred turned her head as she heard Gunn speak up from the doorway, Cordelia beside him.
"You didn't even think you could tell me what was going on, Wes?" Cordy looked upset. "I thought you could talk to me about anything."
Wesley lowered his eyes and opened his mouth, taking a deep breath. "Paper" he croaked, wincing at the pain.
"I'll find some." Gunn stepped out into the hallway and spoke to the nurse, and they all watched as she returned with a pad and a pen.
Wesley concentrated hard to grip the pen, and managed to make enough of an impression on the pad that they knew what he was writing.
"Groo," read Cordy. "You didn't want to bother Groo and me?" Wesley nodded slightly. "I'm so sorry, Wes. You know we wouldn't have minded - if it was important to you, it was important to all of us."
"What about me?" spoke up Gunn. "You could have spoken to me."
Wesley shook his head, and they watched as he manoeuvred the pen across the paper one more time.
"Fred," Gunn read. "Man, I'm so sorry. We're all just as much to blame in this as anyone, and you're the one that had to get hurt. Again. Trying to save our butts. Again."
Fred looked up at Cordy. "Has anyone heard from Angel yet?"
"Not unless he showed up at the hotel after we left."
"I didn't." Before anyone had a chance to react, Angel was at Wesley's bedside, his hands gripped tightly on his shoulders. "What did you do? You let Holtz get Connor, and now he's gone God knows where, and we've no idea how to get him back. You've screwed up some in your time, Wesley, but this one beats them all."
"ANGEL!" Cordelia shouted. "Wesley needs rest-"
"I don't care what Wesley needs. I need my son."
"But you know that Wesley may be able to help you." She placed a finger on his chest. "And somewhere in here, you know that Wes wasn't to blame for Holtz taking Connor. But obviously you won't be realising that anytime soon, so I think it'd be better if you left. I take it there's sewer access?"
"Do I *look* like a big pile of dust?"
"Then I'll come back to the hotel with you. You two stay with Wes." She looked at Gunn and Fred, who glanced briefly at each other.
"It's okay, Cordelia, I'll take him. You two ladies stay." Without another word, Gunn took Angel by the arm and walked him out of there before he did any more damage.
To be continued ...
