Title: Cry a Little, Lie a Little, Die a Little
Rating: R, for language, adult situations, you know the drill
Pairing: Wesley/Faith
Summary: Faith reappears in Wesley's life to bring with her the chaos that he has finally put behind him. (AU after the end of the third season.)
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Never will. Hail Joss and all that work with him.
Notes: This is an AU after the episode "Tomorrow" season three of Angel. Instead of Wesley sticking around and setting up his own demon-fighting outfit, he leaves Los Angeles. Faith gets out of prison and comes looking for him to help train her to fight. They both get more than they bargained for when a mysterious force comes after the two of them.
Chapter One – Fallen
The rap at the door startled Wesley. No one drove out to where he lived. He was just the lonely hermit that worked in the library. No friends, no family, no life, nothing. Everything had been taken away because of one mistake. That mistake had almost killed him and had created a rift so large between he and his friends, they would never dream of reconciling with him. The child that he had lost would haunt him forever. So he walked away from it all. And landed here, a backwoods town in the middle of nowhere. It suited him fine. To brood in silence was preferable to dying from suffocation.
Wrenching the door open, Wesley paused before saying anything. He couldn't believe his eyes. His glasses lay on the table, scratched and barely used ever since he bought the contacts he now used daily. He had nothing in which to shield himself from the nervousness of the sight before him. Then it kicked in for him, adrenaline flowing through his veins. She was out, and had come to exact revenge, once and for all.
"Hey, Wes. Long time, no see," Faith said from the doorway.
Wesley slammed the door in her face. Just like that, his life changed yet again, for the worse. Why couldn't everyone just leave him be? He had done everything he could to help the helpless and it just wasn't enough. Now it was time for him to rest. Perhaps if he ignored her presence, she would disappear and never darken his door again.
"Come on, Wes. I need to talk to you," Faith continued through the now closed door.
Wesley sighed and then wondered how on earth she had found him. He had covered his tracks well. Or so he thought. If she could find him, then apparently so could Angel. Would he have to pick up stakes and move on, yet again?
Faith pounded on the door, if just to make the anger well up in him. Why should he listen to her? It wasn't like they were even friends, with that torture thing in the background.
"I need your help. Please open the door."
He almost snickered when she said please. The girl had never been polite to him in Sunnydale. In Los Angeles, she had tried to kill him. Now she was asking him politely and saying the magic word?
Picking up his gun, he yanked the door open again and thrust the pistol directly in her face.
"What do you want?" he growled back.
Faith's eyes widened considerably. Backing away slightly, she raised her hands like she surrendered.
"You should put that gun down, Wes. It won't do any good if you blow my head off before you hear me out."
She looked frightened. Well, let her be frightened. For what she did to me, she should very well feel frightened. She could bloody well scream for all he cared.
Calmly, he kept the gun trained on her head. Best to take her down quickly, he concluded.
"Turn around and don't come back," he flatly told her.
Here she had gone and ruined his new home. He had been living in the small town for nine months now, Angel and his escapades in the back of his mind, not taking up as much brain matter as the whole situation once had. The nightmares still made an appearance occasionally, but he was slowly coming back to life. Until today.
"You won't do it. Pull the trigger, I mean."
Wesley moved the angle of the gun slightly and fired.
"Fuck. What kind of shit was that?" Faith yelled back at him.
"Just a warning, Faith. Go away."
Dropping the gun to his side, he started to slam the door in her face. Only she caught it with her foot at the last minute.
"I don't want to fight. Just hear me out," Faith implored him to do.
Wesley lost it. He pressed the gun against her forehead, definitely able at that point to make her go away, for good if need be. But as he really looked at Faith, he could see her shaking literally in her boots. Gone was the swagger of the slayer he knew in Sunnydale. The single tear that escaped as she stood directly in front of him did something to him. Her brown eyes were wide with fear.
"Please, please. I am so sorry, Wes. For everything that I ever did to you. Please believe me. Please."
She was begging him to believe her. Either she was the world's best actress or he had no choice but to believe her. That didn't mean that he forgave her.
"Why? Why are you here?" he choked out, not as unaffected by her plea as he wanted to be.
"I didn't know where else to go."
Great. So she runs to the one person who doesn't ever want to see her again.
"Piss off."
Slamming the door, he timed it so her foot wasn't in the way. Not like she couldn't break it down without much effort. She wasn't going to intrude on his new life. He'd just ignore her and maybe she'd go away.
Sitting down to read, an hour went by with no noise. Luckily, she'd gone back into town and was on the first bus or whatever she was driving and never coming back. He didn't care to see any of them ever again. His neck throbbed with his quickened pulse at the moment. Whenever he became agitated, it hurt like hell.
Looking out the window, he didn't notice any sign of her lurking outside. Good. Perhaps she was just a figment of his imagination. A much too vivid imagination for his tastes.
When he climbed into bed that night, after warding the house against any intruders, Wesley left the bedside light on just in case. He couldn't sleep in the dark anymore. Waking up, not being able to see his surroundings wasn't conducive to going back to sleep. As he drifted off, he tried thinking pleasant thoughts. But what intruded wasn't pleasant at all. All he could dream about was a slayer with a penchant for hurting him.
Faith lay in the motel room, ready to rumble. Only she wasn't sensing any kind of demon activity. No wonder her watcher chose this place. A lot easier in a town knowing that your services were not needed.
He squicked her beyond belief. He looked wicked nasty, with that beard, faint slash on his throat and the attitude out of hell. She couldn't believe that it was even him. Like some alien body snatcher had come down and taken her Wes away and replaced him with some asshole.
That gun in her face proved her point. When did Watcher Wes start using guns? And was he any good with those said guns? Her ears still rang from the gunshot so close to her head. He could have slipped, damn it.
It was the attitude that scared her the most. Her counselor had suggested that as soon as she was released, that she should track him down and apologize. Well, that didn't fuckin' work out at all. She thought that maybe she had a chance at forgiveness. Hell, Angel had forgiven her for tryin' to shoot an arrow into his back that one time. And for the poisoning. She couldn't forget the poisoning.
So after doing two hundred push ups, she decided that enough was enough. She needed sleep if she was gonna confront the bastard again in the morning. It might do her good if she talked to him in a less personal situation. Maybe invite him out to lunch or something. Talk civil to each other. Only the man didn't look that civil.
But what kept going around in her brain was how he looked now. Gone were the watcher suits of yesteryear. Man, he wore one of those plaid flannel shirts. Jeans that fit just right. She banged her head against the headboard just for that thought. He wasn't what she wanted. But he was what she needed. She needed for someone to kick her ass into gear. And he was the only one to do it.
Her slayer training had gone to shit in prison. She didn't want to be a sitting duck out there when the big bads reared their ugly heads. Her senses had been tingling for the past couple of weeks. At least it let up a little when she rode into this backwater town. Clean as a whistle. Maybe it would help her get her head together, not having to worry about what demons were out there. Cuz the only being she wanted to deal with was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, whether he wanted to or not.
Wesley felt the pain in his throat before he could do anything about it. Faith stood above him, in that park, holding onto Connor. The bloody knife in her hands, the blood dripping off her, made him want to scream in terror, but he couldn't. He just lay in the cold, damp grass looking up at her.
The scene before him transformed into Angel, holding Connor, as Wesley bled out in the lobby of the Hyperion. The baby screamed as Wesley lay in his own massive pool of blood, knife not five feet in front of him. Angel's head descended, going into vampire face as he finally reached what he wanted, what he craved. Wesley couldn't cry out for anyone to save the baby.
Another scene, all his friends looking at him, watching him as he bled to death in some dark alley, all standing around as he struggled to get up. Gunn sneered at him, pushing him back down to the ground with a large boot. Fred turning her nose up at him like he was dirt for her to walk over. Cordelia, standing over him, looking at him with pity. He didn't want, nor need her pity. Angel's boot connected with his stomach, making him want to vomit on the ground where he lay. The blood loss made him too dizzy to even think about moving now.
Finally, Lilah stood over him, using her phone like she had some kind of news to report. Trying to recruit him, that had been the last straw for him. He finally fled, but not without seeing why she wanted him. The power that she held was enticing to say the least, but she was evil, to the core. He may have dropped to rock bottom, but he wasn't going to go even further under by joining with the evil law firm, even if she was quite good in bed. Once had been enough for him. She smiled his way, tapping her heeled shoe against the ground where he lay. Like she was waiting for him to die, so she could report it to her superiors.
Slowly, Faith came back into view. This time, the dream was different than before. Faith had been crying. He couldn't reach out and comfort her. Lying on the ground, he watched as she said that she was sorry over and over again, until her voice was raw with screaming her apology. It was only when she reached down and picked up dirt, spreading it with the wind, did he realize that she was standing over his grave instead of just watching him die.
Out of the trees, from behind gravestones, almost from the air itself, came horrid creatures in robes. Faith fought and fought, only to be worn down. The knives that the things carried slashed down and over her skin until she was still, dead eyes staring straight back at him. He couldn't help, but could only watch as she died.
"Help me," her dead voice croaked out one last time.
Her screams filled his head until he screamed himself, holding his head until the vision went away. Turning on the hot shower full blast, he stood under the steam until he could actually stop the shaking that had accompanied the dream. It may have warmed him up on the outside, but on the inside, he was still cold as ice.
TBC