Summary: 277 word ficlet to comfort me after 'Not Fade Away.' Wesley's thoughts during his last moments.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss Whedon, ME, and whoever else owns it.
----------
Wesley drew a shaky breath as he fell to the floor. He could feel the strong hands that held his head away from the tile.
He could hear her voice. Fred's voice. He scolded himself. Not Fred. Illyria was the only thing left.
This was real now. His dreams where Fred returned to him, all his fantasies of a happy ending were gone. This was all he had left.
He replied automatically to her questions, her words. The words that were nothing. She was a false fragment of what once was.
She told him he would be dead soon. He held back his laughter. He had died when Fred died.
The feel of the cool tile floor against his back, the thin yet strong arms around him, the feel of his life slipping through his fingers. It was nothing.
Her voice filtered back into his thoughts once more.
"Do you want me to lie to you?"
He nodded slowly, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.
Then, it was as if time had turned back. She was there, with him. He wanted to reach up and take her in his arms.
And then she was talking to him, her voice filtering through his senses, invading his body.
"God, I miss you so much." He muttered as he looked up into her brown eyes. "I love you."
She began speaking again, his mind not fully comprehending that she was talking.
"You'll be where I am soon. . ."
The thought floated around his head, the only thing he could focus on.
Him, with Fred once more.
He took one last shaky breath, and faded away.