Disclaimer: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just tend to borrow it profligately.
Snow covered the old cemetery, muffling the footsteps of the young woman who was its only living occupant. A slim bouquet in her hand, she made her way purposefully towards the newest headstone in the place. She paused to read the inscription. Although the sun shone brightly, she clutched her coat tighter about her shoulders. The young woman cleared away the snow in front of the headstone and gently set her colorful tulips on the hard, cold Earth beneath.
"Wondered when you'd get here."
The visitor didn't jump. She'd expected a voice – just not this voice. She blinked in confusion at the well-dressed woman now perched on the headstone, her legs crossed, ladylike, at the ankle. The only thing marring her perfect appearance was a long, thin scar across her neck.
"Hello, Faith," the apparition said mockingly. "What took you so long?"
Faith gazed at the woman, struggling to place her. "I know you. You . . . you were the chick who hired me to whack Angel. What the h#$ are you doing here?"
Lilah Morgan laughed; it set Faith's teeth on edge. "My name is Lilah. I guess no one bothered to tell you – they probably didn't want to sully his fine name – but Wesley and I used to sleep together." She smirked, remembering.
"Bangin' the enemy? Go Wes! You can't have been all that bad, if Wes saw something in you."
"Wesley had a habit of seeing the potential in people."
"So what happened? Between you and him, I mean." Faith cleared the snow off the top of another tombstone and sat down. "I've heard the other story."
"The one where he dies?" guessed Lilah wryly. "All right, I'll tell you the one where he wanted to die."
Faith listened with interest to Lilah's tale of anger, passion, self-hatred, and a fragile relationship that depended on a signed dollar bill for proof of existence. The salacious details didn't bother her; sex never did. Still, as Lilah's story unfolded, she began to wonder what other secrets Wesley had hidden.
"He was so d#%$ noble sometimes, you know? When the Senior Partners sent me to show them Wolfram & Hart, he found my contract and tried to burn it." Lilah smiled sadly. "He was always trying to save me."
"Wes tried to save me, too, once." Faith swallowed back the lump in her throat. "Only he did it all the wrong way. Next time I saw him, I nearly killed him."
"Wesley never succeeded in saving the people who mattered."
Faith did jump this time. She thought she'd gotten used to people sneaking up on her . . . Apparently not. Blue as ever, even without all her powers, Illyria could move more quietly than a mime.
"Old One," nodded Lilah almost respectfully.
"Move over, Slayer," ordered Illyria. "I wish to sit down."
"Angel and Spike sent you after me, didn't they?" sighed Faith, duly scooting over.
"The vampires have become overly attached to you." It was said with a sniff. "I do not understand it."
"Faith always was Angel's pet project. I must admit though, I'm curious. Did you two never – "
"No," the "pet project" growled through gritted teeth. "Bluebird, you said something about Wes failing to save people?"
Illyria scowled at her. "I do not like it when you call me that. Only Spike may call me that. Wesley was unable to save his lover from Cordelia Chase and Angelus. He had to behead her to keep her from rising as a vampire." She gestured to the scar line on Lilah's neck. "As a Watcher, he failed to prevent his young Slayer from going rogue. When the Burkle was being hollowed out to make room for me, he could not stop that, either."
For an instant, Illyria changed her body and voice to that of Fred. "Wesley, why can't I stay?" she pleaded pitifully.
"Ech!" Blue again, the former Old One made a derisive gesture. "Miserable mortals. Wesley promised me he would teach me how to live in this world, eradicate my ignorance and confusion." Her blue eyes turned ice cold. "Wesley did not keep his promise. He died."
"What did you expect?" Lilah snapped, her voice full of ragged emotion. "Part of Wesley died with Fred. Surely even you could see that! I wanted to go to him, but . . . but it was not allowed."
"I didn't know . . . The Council blacklisted Angel when he took over the big bad lawyer firm. Kept me so busy finding new Slayers and stopping mini-apocalypses I never once had a chance to get back to L.A. But I should have tried harder."
"What could either of you have done?"
"Told him he wasn't alone."
"Kicked your a –"
"It would not have mattered anyway. I was already here. Neither of you feeble humans has the power to hurt me, let alone remove me from this body."
The three women sat in silence for a long moment, looking at one another distrustfully. They were rather a mismatched trio: Lilah in her tight A-line skirt, matching blazer, and peep-toe Manolo Blahniks, Faith in jeans and a leather jacket, and Illyria in her leather body armor. Each had cared for Wesley in her own way. His grave lay between them now, dividing what it should have united.
"What happened to the dollar bill?" Faith asked finally.
Lilah pointed to the ground below them.
"They buried his wallet with him?"
"No," Illyria answered for her.
"Then how . . . ?"
Smug as a cat, Lilah raised one eyebrow. "You musn't expect a lady to give away her secrets, Faithy."
"We aren't ladies."
"You may have a point there . . . What is it, Illyria?"
The god-king was frowning fiercely at the headstone. "It is wrong," she complained. "All wrong."
Faith squinted at the tombstone. "What's wrong with it?"
"It is all that remains. When books decay and those who knew him are dead, this stone will be left, a testimony that he lived. But it is only a piece of granite with a name and a set of dates. And it will crumble to pieces within several short lives of your kind. And then no one will know or remember or care that Wesley ever existed."
"I will," Lilah said quietly. "My contract won't be up for another eternity or two."
"We could add something to the stone," suggested Faith, looking at Illyria with some concern. "If it'll make you feel better, Blue."
"It does not matter." Illyria seemed to be regretting her earlier outburst.
"No, let's do it," Faith urged. "You're right. Wes deserves more than a name and dates. What should we say?"
"Words are powerful," murmured Lilah, thinking of her contract.
The others nodded in agreement. They banded ideas about for a few minutes until a consensus was reached. Illyria crouched down in front of the headstone. New words carved themselves into the stone's granite face at her touch.
"It is finished," she said at last, standing up and stepping away from the tombstone. Faith moved closer to look at it. Lilah swung her legs over the other side of the headstone and craned her neck to see the words.
"Good work, Blue."
"Thank you, Illyria." For once, Lilah was completely sincere.
"This is not for you. This is for him," she replied bad-temperedly. "Come, Faith. The vampires will be getting upset if I do not bring you back soon."
"All right." Faith stared at the headstone, suddenly exhausted.
"You on a leash, Faith?"
The Slayer grinned sardonically. "Nah. Just don't want to worry the boys. They've lost enough lately." She put a hand on Wesley's tombstone.
"Faith." Illyria's tone was insistent.
"I'm coming. Well . . . Goodbye, Lilah."
"Always nice to see you, Faith, Illyria."
Lilah watched them pick their way carefully across the snowy graveyard and slip through the wrought-iron gate at its far end.
"It's just you and me again, Wes." She patted the headstone. "I must say they did a nice job." Lilah froze, then touched her forehead gingerly. "I'm being summoned. Senior Partners, you know." She hopped off the stone and brushed the dirt from the back of her skirt. "See you soon, lover."
Lilah paused to glance at Illyria's work one last time. Smiling, she took a step to the left and disappeared.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Watcher. Teacher. Lover. Friend.
February 25, 1970 – May 19, 2004