The pounding in his head woke Wesley from his dreamless slumber. He closed his eyes tightly as the pain seemed to travel to every joint in his body.
This was not a hangover; he knew that for a fact. He had almost become immune to the nauseating, throbbing aftereffects of a night of drinking. This was different. This felt like death itself.
He sat up slowly, his hands reaching up to massage his throbbing temples. Kicking back his sheets, Wesley dangled his legs over the side of his bed. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he made his way out of the bed and towards his closet. He pulled a T-shirt on over his head and gradually slipped on a pair of slacks, every movement sending a new wave of discomfort through his nervous system.
Once dressed, he stumbled into the living room where Faith sat on the couch, watching an infomercial on a new piece of fitness equipment. Wesley leaned against the wall for support as she finally turned to acknowledge him.
"Hey," she smiled. She studied him for a moment before her smile changed. "Wesley, man, you look like hell."
"Thank you for stating the obvious, Faith," he grumbled.
"Someone's got a bad hangover," she smirked, turning back to the television.
"No, I think it may be food poisoning…."
Faith turned to him again, sitting up on her knees, as she replied, "We had the same thing last night, and I feel fine."
"Yes, well, maybe after I have a cup of tea, I'll feel better as well."
Wesley pushed himself from the wall. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. He placed a hand on the doorframe to steady himself as his world began to spin before his eyes.
"Wes, you okay?"
"Faith," he replied quietly, closing his eyes, "something isn't right here…."
Wesley collapsed to the floor. Without hesitation, Faith leapt over the back of the couch and ran over to him. She slid across the kitchen floor in her socks before kneeling beside him.
"Wesley!" she yelled, lifting his head into her lap. "Wes!"
He lay silent. Eyes closed, breathing ragged. His chest rose and fell rapidly. His skin was much paler and cooler to the touch than Faith was comfortable with.
"Wes?" she asked, slapping his face gently.
Her own heart racing, Faith glanced around the apartment as Wesley's last words echoed in her mind.
**********
Sitting at Cordelia's desk, Fred closed the book on hell dimensions with a heavy sigh. She glanced around the empty hotel lobby, a frown formed on her delicate face. Gunn had left her not too long ago to pick up breakfast burritos for brunch, and the hotel had seemed eerily dead ever since.
Angel was downstairs, possibly doing tai chi.
Or maybe beating the living crap out of his punching bag, she thought, her frown only deepening.
He had been doing that a lot lately, disappearing to the darkness of the basement for hours at a time. Returning only when he was drained of all the pent up rage and aggression that he had had within him for the day. Fred could only assume that it was a form of therapy for him, a way to get out all those feelings he didn't want to express to his friends.
Besides, it was better for him to beat the crap out of an inanimate object instead of some innocent bystander… or Wesley….
Fred sighed again as she glanced at her watch and then at the staircase Cordelia had climbed nearly two hours ago.
Cordelia had been up all night, reading on hell dimensions and portals. She lived and breathed these journals now, in hopes of finding the one thing that could bring Connor back to them. She had finally given up her search for the night only because her body so desperately needed rest.
It took much convincing on Fred's part, but she had finally struck a deal that Cordelia could agree to. Fred would continue the research in her absence as long as Cordelia promised to give her mind and body a break for a moment.
"I'll only be out for an hour or so," Cordelia had yawned before disappearing upstairs.
Now as Fred stared down at the cover of the journal, she wondered how Cordelia could keep reading about hell dimensions without going insane. Fred hated reading about all the hell dimensions that could be opened into their world by a simple cosmic shift. Even the simplest spell could open up a portal to the deepest of nightmares, blending their reality with another realm's darkness.
Hell dimensions reminded Fred of Pylea, of her five hopeless years there. Pylea reminded her of Angel, swooping in on a horse and rescuing her. Her rescue reminded her of the new life she had formed here in LA. Her new life in LA reminded her of her new family—Angel, Gunn, Cordelia, and Wesley. Wesley reminded her of Connor, and Connor reminded her of hell dimensions.
It was a never-ending cycle in her mind.
Her gaze shifted from the journal as she heard the hotel door swing open. She instantly got to her feet, welcoming anything that would get her mind out of the depressing cycle. She eagerly walked around the hotel counter to greet her visitor.
"Hi, Welcome to Angel Investigations. How can I…?"
Fred's words caught in her throat as her visitor finally turned to greet her.
"Where's Angel?" Faith asked her.
Fred simply looked at her.
Faith rolled her eyes at the girl's silence. "Have you gone deaf since the last time we crossed paths?" She sighed angrily and took an aggressive step towards Fred.
"No," Fred replied, annoyed, as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Then, where's Angel?"
"Can I ask why you want to see him so badly?" Fred asked, unnerved by Faith's aggressive manner.
"Why do you care?" she growled.
Fred parted her lips to speak, but Angel's voice interrupted. She glanced over her shoulder at him as he pulled the basement door closed.
"Faith, what are you doing here?" he asked.
Fred took notice of his undershirt drenched with sweat.
Therapy, she thought to herself, as she took a step away from Faith and towards the hotel counter.
"I need a favor," she replied, approaching him. "A big favor."
Angel raised a suspicious eyebrow at her.
Faith hesitated for a moment, nervously shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Look, I didn't know where else to turn. Normally, I wouldn't have come to you—to any of you—but I had no one else to go to."
"Faith," Angel replied gently. "What's going on?"
Fred, who had her back turned to them as she fidgeted with the business cards on the hotel counter, found herself surprised by the softness in his voice. She hadn't heard those tones on his voice in a long time, and it felt reassuring, even if it was directed towards a girl she didn't care too much for.
"It's Wes," Faith finally said. "He's sick. Knocking on heaven's door kind of sick."
Fred finally turned to them, her eyes wide with concern. The business cards slipped between her fingers and floated to the hotel floor.
Angel leaned away from Faith in response, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes turned cold and his voice hit the monotone that Fred had grown accustomed to since Connor's disappearance. "This isn't a hospital, Faith."
"I know that," she frowned. "But I don't think this is a typical let's-prescribe-some-drugs kind of sick."
"Huh," Angel replied, frowning. With that, he turned, making his way back towards the basement. "I can't help you, Faith."
Fuming, she stormed after him. She grabbed his shoulder and roughly turned him to face her. "You can help me," she growled. "You just don't want to. If you don't help me, Wes will die."
Angel grabbed her wrist aggressively and pried her grip from his arm. "Then so be it," he snarled, pushing away her arm.
"Angel," Cordelia's voice interrupted.
Angel and Faith turned towards the sound of her voice.
Cordelia approached them.
"Cordelia," Angel sighed, "this has nothing to do with you."
"Yes, it does, Angel," she replied. "It has to do with all of us. We're supposed to help the helpless, and as much as I hate to admit it, Faith is the helpless right now. We can't just turn our backs on her." She turned her gaze from Angel to Faith as she asked, "Where is he, Faith?"
Faith hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting from Cordelia to Angel and then back again. "In the car," she replied.
"Go get him, and we'll figure out how we can help."
Faith nodded before running out of the hotel.
Fred continued to watch silently from the hotel counter as Angel approached Cordelia. His brow furrowed as the frown on his face deepened.
"Cordy, I do not want that man to set foot in this hotel while I'm here…."
"Then may I suggest you leave?" Cordelia replied as she wrapped her arms around her waist. "Look, Angel, I'm upset with Wesley, too, but we can't just let him die. That's not how we operate around here. You know that."
Before Angel could respond, Faith returned with Wesley. One arm wrapped Wesley tightly at the waist. His arm draped over her shoulders, Faith's free hand held tightly to his wrist.
For a moment, Fred thought he was dead in the woman's arms.
She hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do. She glanced towards Cordelia and Angel. They continued to stare at each other, each frustrated by the other's stubbornness. She then turned her gaze back to Faith, who continued to hover near the doorway, as if she expected to be told to go away at any moment.
Her decision made, Fred walked slowly towards Faith.
Cordelia held Angel's glare for a moment longer before turning and approaching the girls as they held up the semi-conscious Wesley.
"Take him upstairs, and then we'll figure out where to start," she ordered.
Faith and Fred gently carried him up the staircase.
Cordelia turned to say something to Angel, but he had already disappeared back into the darkness of the basement.
