TITLE: The Very Best Time of the Year
AUTHOR: Eloise
RATING: PG13
DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own Wes, and all things Angel. I'm only playing with them. I promise not to hurt them. Much.
NOTES: Chap 3 of 5. Thanks to all who reviewed – I'd write this anyway, because mini Wes needs a happy Christmas, but your feedback makes it even more fun! You'll have noticed that Fred is conspicuous by her absence – she has gone to spend Christmas with her parents, as mentioned in Chap 1. I don't think I write her character very well, and this story is supposed to be fluffy, not shippy, so in Texas she will stay. Sorry all Wes/Fred shippers out there! The fic is now going to be five chapters long, rather than four. I wanted to fit so much in, and there just wasn't room!
Once again, hugs and Christmas candies to Lonely Brit for her beta – the best line of this chapter belongs to her!
Chapter title, quote and lyrics from John Rutter's carol 'The Very Best Time of the Year'
Chapter 3: Shining Magic
'That very best time,
That strange enchanted time,
That shining magic time of year.'
Gunn watched the small boy, as he stood in front of the rows of glasses frames, his eyes as huge as saucers.
'There are so many.'
Cordelia smiled and he marvelled again at how quickly she had fallen into the maternal role. Maybe it was a genetic thing. She seemed completely at ease with Wesley, who in turn responded to her with a genuine trust and openness. She guided him over to another section of frames, her hand pressed lightly in the small of his back. He allowed himself to be led. Did not flinch when she touched him.
That moment would stay with him, the undisguised fear on the child's face, the shudder that had run through his body when Gunn had laid his hand on his shoulder. He prided himself on being good with kids. He had practically raised Alonna by himself, and some of his crew had been barely in their teens when they had found themselves on the street. And Wes was his friend. Yet at that moment he had been absolutely terrified of him.
He consoled himself with the fact that Wes seemed even more terrified of Angel, then decided that wasn't exactly comforting. A now familiar squeal of delight broke his reverie, and Cordelia waved him over.
'How cute is he, in those?'
Since arriving at the mall, this had been a recurring motif in Cordelia's conversation, usually preceded by a piercing shriek which was so high pitched that only dogs could hear her. Every item of clothing the child had patiently tried on was greeted with 'Variation on Oh My God He's So Adorable in G major'.
Still he had to admit, mini Wes was one cute kid. His sky blue eyes were only emphasized by the penny shaped lenses of the glasses Cordelia had chosen.
'Harry Potter, eat your heart out.' Cordelia was beaming. 'Those are just perfect, Wes.'
The little boy looked up at him, a serious expression on his face, searching for his affirmation or… permission. He smiled down at Wesley
'They look good, Wes. Cool.'
A little smile touched the corners of Wesley's mouth, not a wide kid grin, but then, the adult version didn't do an awful lot of that either. English was a little too much on the serious side for Gunn's liking. Always seemed to have his head stuck in a book when he should be out partying. He had chilled quite a bit in the couple of years they had known each other, Wes was definitely less stiff and formal, but there was a core of himself he kept private; hidden, even from Angel and Cordy. He had an idea that this scared little boy held answers to questions that none of them dared ask.
'Okay, that's settled.' Cordy bustled off to harangue some poor unfortunate shop assistant and have the correct prescription lenses fitted, while Wes stood by the small mountain range of bags they seemed to have gathered.
He was no longer dressed in his cousin's cast-offs, but in some of the many new clothes that Cordelia had picked out for him. Surprisingly, Wes had been quite assertive in this area, resisting all Cordy's attempts to get him into cartoon character t-shirts. Instead he was dressed in a pale blue button down oxford shirt and tan chinos, dark chocolate suede lace-ups. Very Wesley-like. Back in Macey's, though, Gunn had noticed him eyeing the Star Wars merchandise surreptitiously, with a rather wistful look in his eye. He had slipped back to the store when Cordy had dragged Wes to the shoe department, and had bought a couple of t-shirts and a pair of pyjamas. A Lego Millennium Falcon for good measure. The kid's got to have some fun, he reasoned. He can't be translating stuff all the time.
His lace had come undone, and he bent over to tie it, the ridge of his spine clearly visible under the soft fabric of his shirt. He was so thin. And really small for his age. It was hard to reconcile the lanky Englishman he knew with such a small child. He wondered idly when Wes's growth spurt had kicked in.
Wesley sighed and plonked down in a sitting position. The lace was proving tricky. He narrowed his eyes and chewed the edge of his lip as he directed his attention to the errant lace. Gunn dropped down to his level and took the lace from him.
'I can do it,' he protested softly.
'I know. But you haven't got your glasses yet.'
The smile was broader this time, grateful for his help. He worked on one shoe, while Wes took care of the other. Finishing first, Gunn leaned over to help the boy.
'What happened to your hand?'
The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and Wes jerked his hands away from his shoe as if he had been burned.
'Nothing. I fell yesterday and b-bumped it.'
A less convincing explanation of an injury he had never heard. The back of the child's right hand was marked by three thin red stripes, stretching across his knuckles. The marks were much too regular and even to be the result of an accidental bump. He was about to question Wes further on their origin; then looked up at the little boy's face. Saw there such a look of raw shame and pain that it almost took his breath away.
And he was transported a few weeks into the past, just after Fred had left with her parents. The four of them had settled in the office to wallow in missing not only Fred, but also her folks. Wes had relaxed back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet resting on the edge of his desk.
'They loved her. Supported her. Didn't grind her down into a tiny self-conscious nub with their constant berating. An endless tirade of debasement and scorn…'
He had broken off, suddenly realizing what he was saying, and awkwardly dropped one hand down to cover the other. At the time Gunn had thought it was simply a way of ending the rather uncomfortable lull in their conversation. In retrospect, the gesture now seemed to hold much more significance.
Mini Wes was clearly unwilling to discuss the injury; he had folded his hands behind his back, and was looking down at the ground, obviously hoping it would swallow him up. Gunn bit down the white hot anger that had flared as he had observed the damaged knuckles. There was no way he wanted to make Wes feel like this.
'It's okay now, though. Your hand, I mean?' He thought his voice sounded a little unsteady.
The little boy nodded, looked at him with such undisguised gratitude that it made his throat ache with unshed tears.
The main impulse he was feeling now was to spoil Wesley rotten.
Cordelia returned with the glasses.
'What?' She was looking from one to the other, seeing Wes's eyes bright with unshed tears; his own not much different. In fact, it was a race to see which of them might break first. 'What is it?'
He shook his head at her, and miraculously she understood his unspoken warning.
'I'm thinking that chocolate is in order, am I right?'
It was wonderful how she could seem so wrapped up in her own little personal bubble, but when it really mattered, Cordy was incredibly perceptive. He gave her a grateful smile, and gathered up their bags.
Cordelia beckoned to Wesley and he followed her dutifully, his hands still behind his back. As they left the opticians, she casually held her hand at her side, palm facing outwards. After a moment's pause, Wes slipped his own hand into hers, and Gunn realized that he had won the race.
*~*~*~*
The chocolate milkshake was huge; she could only just see those baby blue eyes, now framed by spectacles, above the top of the soda glass. Had to fight the impulse to reach over and run her hand through the soft spikes of dark hair at the crown of his head. Although his hair was really short, it still managed to look tousled, as if he had just woken up. She could sympathize. On her, bed hair was the worst hair day imaginable; on him it was just adorable.
She controlled the urge to say this out loud, and contented herself with watching the little boy attempt to drink his milkshake quietly. She stole a glance at Gunn, whose eyes were suspiciously bright. She really wanted to know what had gone on between the two of them back at the opticians, but had caught Gunn's warning, and left it alone.
There was a slurping noise from behind the milkshake glass, and she couldn't suppress her laughter.
'Um, sorry…' Wes sounded unsure of himself.
In response, she blew into her own vanilla shake, creating a mountain of bubbles that threatened to spill over the top of her glass. Wesley's eyes widened; he had clearly been expecting a reprimand for his lapse in manners, not a demonstration of solidarity. She blew a little harder, and some of the froth flew across the table, splattering across Gunn's shirt.
And was rewarded with a giggle. Almost inaudible, and desperately stifled, but the sound of it made her heart swell. She repeated the action, and this time Gunn returned fire, sucking up a strawful of cappuccino foam and aiming it at her. Direct hit to her new jacket.
'Right, that's it. This is war.'
She loaded her own straw again, and was about to open fire, when she looked over at Wes. He was in fits of silent laughter, a mouthful of chocolate milk unfortunately held hostage as he shook helplessly. She looked at Gunn, who cracked a wide grin, his eyes dancing. He was enjoying this as much as she was.
And then the little boy lost control, and chocolate milk sprayed from his mouth, as he collapsed into fits of giggles. Every few moments he would try to compose himself, then start again, hiccupping wildly, his face growing redder and redder. Finally Gunn leaned over and patted him gently on the back.
'Okay, kiddo, you got to breathe sometime.'
He nodded wordlessly, and took a gulp of air. She lifted one of the few clean napkins off the table, and moved beside Wes. Took his chin in her hand and carefully wiped away his chocolate moustache. Couldn't contain the words this time.
'Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, you are the sweetest thing.'
The redness in his cheeks now had nothing to do with lack of oxygen.
He removed his new glasses, which were flecked with chocolate milk, and opened the purple Hogwarts case to find the lens cloth. Polished his glasses carefully, a gesture which reminded her intensely of the adult he would become.
'Who's Harry Potter?' he asked, as he examined the crest on the case.
'Oh, we so have to get it for him!' she squealed to Gunn, knowing how much the little watcher would enjoy that particular book.
Gunn eased back in his chair, raised his shoulders in a loose shrug.
'He already knows about demons and vamps; I guess it would be a fun bedtime story.'
The thought of reading to a pyjama-clad mini Wes, snuggled beside her on the sofa, filled her with such joy that she almost forgot how to breathe.
Then she glanced at her watch.
'Okay, guys, we've only got a couple of hours before the mall closes. And we've still got to go to the toy store, and the book store, and Tommy Kids…'
She really didn't care about the look that they exchanged, the way Gunn rolled his eyes and the shy half-smiling nod that little Wes returned. In fact, she actually kind of liked it.
*~*~*~*
In retrospect, perhaps they shouldn't have fed him quite so much candy. As they approached his truck, Wes was running off a sugar high, weaving between the two of them, chattering about the toy they had just bought him.
'And if you press the button in his back it activates the crossbow mechanism. It's brilliant!'
'So you said.' Gunn smiled fondly at the eager child. He had seen this happen with his cousin's kids. First the sugar hit, they would get the rush and go into hyperactivity overdrive. And just as predictably came the fall, when the nervous energy became too much to handle, they would sulk, or throw a tantrum, or sometimes just burst into tears. He wondered which Wesley would do.
Cordelia steered him towards the truck, and Gunn tossed the bags behind the seats. Wes climbed into the front seat between them and buckled up.
'Gosh, Mr. Gunn, I'm never allowed in the front seat at home.'
'It's Gunn, Wes. No mister. And I couldn't exactly let you ride in the back, now could I?'
'Do I have a car?'
He was thrown for a moment by this non sequitor. Then he realized he was asking about the adult version.
'A bike.'
'Oh.' His face fell. For a second Gunn almost imagined that he saw the merest hint of a pout on the child's lips.
'A motorbike.'
'Oh. A real one?'
The sudden image of adult sized Wes riding a kid's toy motorbike came unbidden to his mind, and he swallowed down a laugh.
'Yes, a real one.'
'I'm not…' he paused, uncertainly.
'Not what, hon?' Cordy had finished fixing her lips in the rear view mirror, and had turned to face the little boy.
'I'm not a Hell's Angel, am I?' The little voice sounded almost hopeful.
He failed to suppress the laughter this time.
'No, Wesley, you are most definitely not a Hell's Angel.' Cordelia reassured him, poking Gunn in the ribs as punishment for his sniggering.
'I didn't think I was.' He seemed a little disappointed.
Gunn shifted himself in the driver's seat till he was facing the boy.
'You're the man, Wes. A guy you can rely on in a tight spot, a guy who always comes through. Watches your back, and looks out for you. Plus you're one hell of a shot.'
Thoughts of his friend in the hospital, drugged to the eyeballs with morphine, floated into his head, and he held out his fist, forgetting that this Wes didn't know. He contented himself with a gentle pat on the boy's shoulder.
'You're the man, English,' he whispered again, very softly, and started the engine.
*~*~*~*
He knelt down by the socket and switched on the light, then stood back and surveyed his handiwork. He had found the decorations in a labelled box beside Cordelia's desk. No one could deny the woman had interesting priorities. Their client addresses were filed according to whimsy and were generally inaccessible to all but Cordelia. However, written on the side of the decorations box were detailed descriptions of the contents therein. These included the exact number and preferred location of each bauble on the tree.
He had to admit, the tree did look kind of pretty. He didn't really go in for the whole 'Tis the season' thing, but Cordy insisted they have a tree. She had brought the decorations with her from Sunnydale, one of the few boxes she had been able to save from the IRS raids on her home. And this year in particular, it seemed appropriate that they should put up the tree. Wes had wished for a happy family Christmas, and they were going to make sure that his wish came true.
A familiar voice floated across the lobby of the hotel.
'Christmas trees and boughs of holly,
Yuletide logs and mistletoe,
Candles burning bright, and…'
The carolling broke off abruptly.
'Well, a merry little Christmas to you, Gabriel!'
He turned to see Lorne staggering under a pile of gaudily wrapped packages. The demon was dressed in a dark red velvet evening suit, and looked for all the world like he was on his way to host a Bing Christmas special.
'Thought I'd be your not-so-secret Santa.'
He deposited the gifts onto the office counter and leaned against it, obviously impressed by the tree.
'Hmm. Seems you have a flair for this.' He waved his hand at the decorations.
'Cordy left instructions.' Angel gestured to the box on the desk beside Lorne.
'Oh. That would explain the presence of actual colour. And where is the rest of the happy little band of elves?'
'Out buying clothes for Wesley.' He thought maybe he could have some fun with this.
'Since when does Wesley need help buying clothes?'
'Wes has - um - lost some weight recently. Cordy thought she'd be able to help him pick out some new stuff.' Angel wasn't sure he would be able to keep his face straight much longer.
Lorne looked stricken.
'Angel, he's not ill, is he? I mean, the man wasn't exactly bulky to start with.'
'He's not ill,' he reassured the worried demon.
At that moment, the front door burst open, and the person in question led the way into the lobby, followed by a heavily laden Gunn and a suspiciously empty-handed Cordelia.
'And we really went to a parallel dimension? Was it a spell, or a wormhole, or…'
Wes stopped in mid sentence at the sight of a green demon, wearing a suit the colour of his horns. Took a small step back towards Cordy. She settled a comforting arm around the little boy's shoulders and Angel heard her whisper gently to him.
'You weren't kidding when you said he'd lost some weight,' Lorne commented wryly.
Angel stared at him, open-mouthed.
'How did you know?' he asked incredulously.
'Aura, darling. Just screams Wesley. Plus those eyes. Windows of the soul and so forth. So what happened this time? Did somebody do a regression spell?'
Angel shook his head.
'Wes made a wish – mini Wes, I mean,' he added quickly. 'And there was an elf, right, Wes?'
The child nodded shyly, remaining close to Cordelia.
'One of Santa's little helpers?' Lorne smiled at his own joke.
But Angel did not respond. He was watching Wesley. The little boy had a look on his face that he recognised from the adult version. Intense concentration, followed by a broad grin. The Eureka face.
'I know about this! There's a manuscript that talks about the power of the wish, and how it is used.' His face fell. 'But I didn't manage to read it. I was in my father's library and he caught me with it. I'm not supposed to touch Father's manuscripts.'
He folded his hands in front of him, and Gunn moved close to him, placed his hand on the little boy's shoulder protectively.
'That's okay, Wes. We'll figure it out,' he said softly.
Cordy was eyeing the Christmas tree with some degree of approval.
'Not bad,' she granted grudgingly, then scooted in behind the counter and placed a small cardboard box on the counter.
'Just one last bauble.' She opened the box and unwrapped the tissue paper to reveal a perfect sphere of silver glass, possessing an almost translucent quality. It was so highly reflective that it seemed to glow in her fingers.
'My mom called this the magic bauble.' She blushed a little. 'I'm pretty sure it's not, but every year she'd let me put it on the tree, and she'd tell me to make a wish.'
Here she smiled at Wesley.
'She said it was shining magic.'
She held out the bauble to Wes. 'I think the honour this year should be yours.'
He took the decoration from her, carried it carefully to the tree. Angel moved behind him, ready to help him reach up to the higher branches.
There was a tiny gasp, and the beautiful jewel slipped from his fingers, met its end on the tiled floor, fracturing into a thousand fragments. Wesley swung round quickly, backing away from him, almost knocking the tree over in the process.
'You – you're a vampire!' he breathed.
Then took off across the lobby and fled through the hotel door.