All the usual disclaimers apply. The characters are not mine, I am merely a fan who makes no commercial gain from writing this story.
Sequel to "I, Angel" - if you haven't read that and want to catch up, please click on the link to Soo W above and you'll get there
"...you wanna know the deal? human weakness. it never goes away..."
Wesley strode purposefully along the grey, echoing corridor, his footsteps mimicking those of the guard who went before him. Stale food, old sweat and disinfectant; the whole bouquet of prison smells assaulted him and he thanked his stars that he wasn't one of those forced to remain in this place come nightfall.
"This is the overflow room," the guard remarked, "and there she is. Now, you'll remember what I told you. There's no glass, so we'll be watching. No exchanging any items. No touching. Fifteen minutes only."
Wesley thanked him and walked across the crowded visitor's room. At a desk in the middle of the room, sat a beautiful, dark-haired woman. She regarded the desks in her immediate vicinity with undisguised amusement. She seemed comfortable being on her own, when many others would have, indeed, were, looking anxiously at the door; hoping that Wesley was their loved one. She didn't even look up, not until Wesley sat down opposite her.
"Hey Wes. Finally come to have a gloat?"
"Faith. You're looking well. What would I be gloating about?"
"Nothin', nothin'. Just my little joke. So - what *are* you here for? Cabbage soup tips?"
Her flippant manner riled Wesley, but then, when had she ever had any other effect on him? Her eyes sparkled at him and he had to fight the urge to blurt out his news, just for the pleasure of wiping that look off her face.
"I have some bad news, which I felt could only be said in person."
"If it's about Buffy, believe me, I already know. Giles wrote and told me a twelve-month ago. Still comin' in second Wes, huh?"
"It's not about Buffy."
"It's not?"
"No."
Faith gulped. "Who?"
He told her, and she blanched. Her slim fingers rose trembling to her mouth. She opened her lips to speak, but nothing came out.
"It was four weeks ago. We were working on something, and he came back to the hotel after a trip and he was in a terrible state. Badly injured, which we took care of, but also in deep shock about something. He wouldn't tell us what. Fred..."
Faith croaked, "Who's Fred?"
"A friend. Of mine. Ours. She and Angel... well... just before it happened they were close. Getting closer."
"Did they fuck each other? Has he gone awol again?"
"No, and no. We didn't know what had happened to him at first. Fred said he was having terrible dreams, and talking about shanshu in his sleep."
"Shanshu?"
Wesley shook his head, "It's complicated. Sort of a destiny, for Angel. Then we finally checked the balcony. And we found a piece of jewellery, that we know he had with him at the time, and... and..."
Wesley felt a familiar tightening in his throat. He gulped and tried to ignore the prickle of hot tears as they bathed his eyes before spilling over his cheeks.
"Wes..."
He shook his head fiercely and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "We found ashes. He killed himself."
"Oh my god."
"Faith, I'm here to ask for your help. No, to beg for it. I'll do whatever it takes. We have to know why. We... we've got to get him back."
"What the hell do you think I can do? I'm a slayer! Revivification is not really a big part of my job!"
"We want to consult the oracles. Messengers of The Powers - the beings Angel was working for when he died. They won't come for us. We aren't warriors. Even Cordelia... we've tried everything. But we know it can be done, Angel did it himself when he was... with us. And we know slayers are automatically considered warriors."
"So, what do I do? Summon them?"
"You have to get to a Gateway. We've located one, it's just a matter of going there and saying the incantation."
"Wes," Faith hissed, "They generally don't like you discussing jailbreaks in the middle of visiting hours. Can you keep it down a bit?"
"We'd have to get you out of here." Wesley whispered, "But we've..."
"Don't whisper! That's even worse!"
"...got a plan."
"Not interested."
"Faith, please. You're our one hope."
"I come up for parole next month. Can't it wait?"
"If I said we had a plan that would mean your parole wouldn't be affected?"
"I wouldn't believe you."
Wesley sighed. A silence broke out between them, and he twisted in his seat so he could look at the floor instead of her. "He was my friend. A good one. He wasn't an easy person to know, but his friendship, once gained, was... precious. I came to you because, whatever we think of one another, it seemed to me you'd be one of the people who'd appreciate what a blessing knowing him could be."
Faith groaned and laid her head on the table, in the fold of her arms. Then she sat up and gave Wesley a resigned look. "You're such an asshole."
He smiled at her, realising he'd won.
"You'd better tell me the plan, then."