Title: Blood Red Roses (sequel to He's On The Phone)

Author: Mary-Jane Roebuck

Feedback: No flames, they scare me. If you don't like the idea of Cordy & Wesley as a couple, please don't read this fic. Anti-character or anti-C/Wes flames will be ignored so don't bother.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss, the WB, Mutant Enemy and multiple other entities. Interpretation of the characters is entirely my own.

Spoilers: Set after the end of 'Angel' season 1.

Rating: R (15) for mental torture, gore, death and implied violence.
Summary: Wesley is still in London, and strange things begin happening in his hotel...
Dedication: To Annie, for making me see Faith in a different light.
Note: King's Cross is a somewhat run-down area of London, partially regenerated in recent years, but still the location of many cheap hostels and hotels.
The poem is 'Death be not proud' by John Donne.





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Wesley was attempting to get some sleep in his dingy hotel room in King's Cross. For the last few days, he hadn't had to worry about getting to sleep - the alcohol had made him pass out. But now it was 10 o'clock in the morning. Sleeping during the day just felt .. wrong. And he was so worried about Cordelia that he wasn't able to relax. He tossed and turned. He got up, poured himself a glass of water and stared at his reflection in the mirror.



It took a moment to recognise himself. Lack of sleep, and the fact that he'd forgotten to shave since his return to the UK, had made him look positively haggard. He frowned as he remembered how Angel had done his best to reassure him that Cordelia was probably fine. Both of them knew that was unlikely, and Wesley knew that he'd failed yet again. Even though it was never his intention, all he ever did was bring harm and chaos to those around him. Especially to those that he was supposed to protect. He wondered why Angel even wanted him to return to LA. He was a liability, pure and simple.

Wesley suddenly felt so dizzy that he had to sit down. His vision was swimming and it suddenly felt as though there were several million small men hammering away inside his head. He groped for his glasses on the bedside table, hoping that they would make a difference, but they just made things look even more confusing.



The noises inside his head got louder and louder. Only now they weren't inside his head. The door. There was someone banging on the door. He managed to drag himself across the room to look through the spy hole, but he couldn't make out anything beyond vague shapes. Thoughts of vampires briefly entered his head, until he remembered that it was broad daylight. Nevertheless, he grabbed a crucifix from his bag before opening the door.



He opened the door and was surprised to find that there was no-one in the corridor. Or was there? The light was so dim it was hard to tell. He removed his glasses, then replaced them and looked again, trying to get his eyes to focus. When he did manage to see things with a little more clarity, he had to move closer to the figure standing at the end of the corridor to make sure that his eyes weren't deceiving him. But they weren't. She was standing with her back to him, but he still knew it was Faith.



Thoughts crowded into his head. It can't be her. She isn't trying to hurt me. What on earth is she doing in London?

And then she turned around. It suddenly registered that she was wearing a long, white dress and carrying a bunch of red roses. This had to be some kind of game. Some kind of vision or nightmare. Nevertheless, he moved closer to her.

"Faith?"

She didn't reply. Instead, she just stared directly into his eyes.

There was no anger. No contempt for his pathetic state. She looked almost calm, almost happy.

And then she suddenly doubled over and began to scream, a high-pitched wail that sounded almost inhuman. She threw the roses in his direction. Wesley moved closer towards her, thinking that she must be in terrible pain and that he should try to help her somehow.



And then she did the last thing he expected. She began to run.

Wesley's feet crushed the rose petals into the ground as he followed her towards the fire escape. At least she'd stopped screaming.



When he got through the door leading towards the stairs, he looked both above and below, but she'd disappeared. And then he suddenly spotted her standing perfectly still two flights above. He ran up the stairs, convinced she must be heading for the roof, but as soon as he got there, she'd disappeared again. He looked above and below again, and then through the glass panel of the door leading to the main corridor. Nothing.



Then there was another scream, even more terrible than the first. It sounded as though it came from above, and so he headed up another three levels. This part of the hotel seemed to be completely abandoned. There was no door to a corridor of rooms, as he'd seen on the previous levels. This level seemed more like a warehouse than a hotel, with several doors leading to what appeared to be storerooms. Wesley tried each of the doors in succession, but found nothing except furniture.



Why had Faith led him up here? And why had she just disappeared? It wasn't possible unless she was some kind of spirit or vision. Sent to .. what? To torment him? To lure him up onto the roof and push him off?



And then he noticed one last door. It was marked 'private', but he didn't think that would have stopped Faith. Prising open the door - which seemed to be protected by some kind of archaic security system -took another few minutes. Eventually, he managed to open it and found himself in a large, empty space.



And there she was, crumpled on the floor, her white dress stained with blood. It was Faith, of that he had no doubt. She was a pitiable sight. All her strength was gone. This was the girl that had haunted his nightmares, who'd stalked his daydreams for so long. His Slayer. His failure.

She was choking now, shallow breaths hampered by the blood coming from her nose and mouth. Wesley dropped to the floor and took her in his arms.

"Faith.."

"Wes .. I .. I always knew it'd end like this. I guess you've won, huh?"

"It's not about winning or losing."

"Really? Cause it looks like that from where I'm sitting."

"Faith, you know.. you must know that all I ever wanted to do was help you."

"Guess I'm just another one of your fuck-ups. Just another person you couldn't protect. First Cordelia, now me"

He noted ruefully that she still had the power to hurt him. He leaned over and looked her straight in the eye.

"Who did this to you? You have to tell me so that I can ..."

"Tell the police? They won't give a shit. Why should they? Just means one less killer to worry about."

She coughed up more blood, and he realised that the speaking was getting harder for her now. He dug out a handkerchief from somewhere and tried to wipe away the blood, but she recoiled from his touch. But he wasn't giving up on her so easily.

"Who did this to you?"

She smiled. One last smile.

"Don't you know that by now?"

He shook his head. He didn't have time for riddles.

"You did, Wes. You did this to me."

She rattled out something like a laugh. Wesley felt the panic and hysteria rising within him. He felt as though he might laugh too. He was still doing the wrong thing in the wrong place at the wrong time. That seemed to be the story of his life.

He realised that she was beyond speech now. Her breathing was shallow and laboured - she was almost choking.

The only thing that he could do was to try and make her more comfortable. He tried to wipe away more of the blood which was issuing from her mouth, but it was no use. Maybe, he thought, I can try and help her pass into the next world more easily. Some words of a poem that he'd learned by heart at school came back to him, and he found himself slowly whispering them into her ear:

" One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more: death, thou shalt die."

She stopped trying to breathe as he said the last words. After that it took a few seconds for her mouth to fill with blood again. She looked into his eyes, and he realised for the first time how frightened she was., how fragile Then one last gasp, and it was over.

As he held her small, broken body, he wondered how Faith had managed to hold on for so long. How she hadn't been destroyed by her pain, by her rage at everything around her.

He held her for a long time, thinking of all the times he'd failed her, of how he'd always managed to push her away when she was on the brink of redemption.



And then he felt a chill pass through the room. The door had blown open, and Wesley looked up to see a small blonde woman standing over him. She spoke in a clear and resolute tone.

"You should go."

She appeared to be speaking to someone standing just behind Wesley. He turned around, but saw no-one. And then he realised that she must be talking to Faith. He stayed still, wondering if she would even notice him.

"And you're coming with me."

She smiled at Wesley. He suddenly felt a sensation of .. not happiness, but something resembling peace. He hesitated for a moment, then took her hand.



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