Title: Fallen
Author: LanaraofEarth
Rating: PG-13 ish...maybe R later on
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series are not mine and never will be, no matter how much I might wish otherwise. The characters of both shows belong to Joss Wedon, Fox and other people and companies that I can't remember right at this moment.
Summary: After being shunned by the gang in LA, Wesley leaves and ends up in Sunnydale. Possibly Wes and Buffy shippiness
Note: Words etc. in * are a character's inner thoughts/dialogue.
* Part 4 *
Buffy took in her former watcher's appearance with sorrow, and a little shock. His hair was messed and longer than she remembered, he wasn't wearing any glasses, he had a four o'clock shadow, his clothes were a mess and there was a large bandage wrapped around his neck.
* My god…* Buffy thought * He looks horrible, as if he was the one to have lost his family *
Actually, Buffy mused, that probably wasn't far off the mark. In essence, he HAD lost his family; the one that he had worked to build for approximately the last three years.
"Jesus Wesley…"
Wesley blinked down at the slayer and muttered something to himself before he turned and walked back to his corner table. He didn't need this.
Buffy stood in shock at the condition that Wesley was in.
She knew that he had been hurt badly after the run in with one of Holtz's cronies and that the LA gang were all angry with him for what he did, but she hadn't thought that things had become this bad.
He'd left LA and now he was here, in Sunnydale.
What the hell was he doing here?
Buffy strode purposefully over to the table that Wesley had reseated himself at.
The former watcher poured himself another shot of gin and downed it as the slayer pulled the chair out across from him and sat herself down.
Buffy sat watching the man for a moment, taking in the tired creases by his eyes, the dark circles, the bloodshot eyes and shaking hands.
He wasn't taking care of himself at all. In fact, there was a welcome invitation for death written planely across his face, something that Buffy knew very well; she saw it every time she looked in the mirror.
The problem was, that, in this town, an invitation like that didn't remain open for long; sooner or later his wish would be granted.
Wesley didn't have the advantage of Slayer strength or reputation and with his drunkenness he wouldn't last two seconds in a fight, if he even tried.
As much as she and Wesley Wyndam-Price had never gotten along when he had come to replace Giles almost three years ago, she had seen a change in him over the last three years. She didn't know if she could trust him, but she wasn't about to just sit and watch as he drank his life away.
Buffys eyes softened as they gazed upon the broken man before her, "Wesley? Wesley what are you doing?"
Wesley downed another shot before he replied to the question, without meeting Buffys eyes, "Dwinkin' what the bloody hell doesh it look like?"
Buffy stopped the hand that went to pick up the nearly empty bottle as she spoke softly, "Wes, stop this. It won't make the pain stop, believe me, if it were that simple I would have done it a long time ago."
Wesley jerked his hand away from the gentle grasp of the beauty before him, he didn't need nor want her sympathy. He hated the pity he heard in her voice, he didn't deserve kindness, he deserved pain and death after what he did. He was a failure.
"Jush bugger off would you, Buffy. I don deserve yer pity."
Wesley picked up the bottle again and poured another shot.
Buffys left hand shot out quickly and grabbed the shot glass. She downed it in a second and coughed loudly as a look of disgust crossed her face. * Eww, how can he stand to drink that stuff… *
"Hey! That was my bloody shot, get your own, schlayer."
Buffy held up the shot glass teasingly in her left hand, "You mean this? Nope, I don't think so Wes. I think you've had enough booze. Plus, it's probably not good for your throat."
Wesley lunged across the table to capture the shot glass, but he was drunk and Buffy easily evaded him. She pushed her chair back from the table and crossed her legs as a cocky grin came over her face.
She knew that it wasn't fair to toy with the poor man, but a part of her couldn't help it; the old part of her that used to enjoy playing with the snooty watcher who had barged into her life two years ago and started ordering her around.
Wesley glared at her from his sprawled position across the table and pushed himself up as he yelled at her, "Why can't you jusht leave me da hell a- alooone? You hate me, I'm notin'. Not worth been saved."
A frown marred the features of the slayers face at the words coming from Wesleys lips. * Not worth it? *
"Wesley, we may not have gotten along well when we met, mainly because you were a pompus ass…but…I never hated you. You're worth saving, otherwise I wouldn't be here."
Wesley was taken aback by Buffy words. He didn't understand her kindness, but he didn't like it. It made making him feel good…and that was something that he was dead set against.
He didn't deserve happiness. He was nothing. His father had told him that years ago and although he had fought against it, it was always with him and now, he knew why; because it was true.
The only thing that had given his worthless existence meaning was his work with…was his work in LA and his friends. But now they were both gone…and all that was left was an empty void…and the bittersweet oblivion of alcohol.
With that thought in mind Wesley stumbled over to the sitting slayer until he was standing directly in front of her.
The former watcher finally met his old protégé, although, he conceded, she had never really been his.
Buffy's eyes had watched his movement and as Wesley met them he couldn't help thinking how beautiful they were. Deep, hazel pools, so lovely…so pure. Even when he had been at odds with her, he had always thought her the most amazing creature he had ever laid eyes on.
Buffy had a confidence to her that was powerful, but not overbearing or imposing; like Cordelia. No, hers was soft…sweet and almost…shy.
As he moved closer to her, she began to look almost like a wraith, with her golden hair shining in the soft light of the bar. It made her look ethereal, the alcohol probably also contributed to that.
He had expected to find disgust and anger, even hatred in her eyes, but he found none of it. What he found threw him. There was sadness, empathy, pain and above all, understanding.
As if she knew what it was to feel like nothing mattered anymore, and that all that was left in life was pain and despair.
* God she's beautiful *
It was too much, all the emotions. Wesley needed the bottle, to drown it all, make it less painful, less real.
Wesleys eyes shone with tears and pain as he locked eyes with Buffy and she winced at the desolation she saw there, no matter what animosity there might have been between them, no one deserved to be in so much pain.
Wesley spoke in a sorrowfilled voice that was amazingly lucid sounding as he reached out a hand toward her, "Buffy, please, let me have the last consolation left to me."
Buffy shook her head, "It's not all that is left for you, Wesley, and, I'm sorry, but I can't give you this bottle."
Anger raged through Wesley, * how dare she assume she knows what's good for me, just because she is the bloody slayer! *
Wesley exploded screaming as he lunged at Buffy, "Give it to me! You insolent child!!!! It'sh mine!!!"
Buffy pushed the chair back until it fell on the floor, where Buffy did a back roll and quickly rose to her feet, bottle in hand.
Wesley tripped over the fallen chair and fell forward.
Buffy put the bottle down on a nearby table as she tried to reason with the man, "Stop it, Wesley!!! It's not worth it!!"
"NO!! I'M not soddin' worth it!!!" Wesley cried out as he stumbled to his feet and approached the slayer.
"Wesley…" Buffy warned, she didn't want to hurt the already injured man, but he just didn't seem to know when to back down at the moment.
* Probably because he is wasted and feels like he has nothing left to loose. * Buffy's sarcastic inner voice interjected.
Wesley didn't heed the warning and when he came towards her, his eyes almost wild, Buffy sighed and muttered softly, "I'm sorry, Wesley" right before she swung her left leg and delivered a roundhouse kick to his temple.
Wesley fell to the ground with a dull 'thud', unconscious.
Buffy was at his side in a moment, checking to make sure that she hadn't aggravated his throat injury.
She heard footsteps behind her, jumped up to her feet and whirled around, ready for a fight.
Willie put his hands up in surrender, "Whoa there, kid. I ain't gonna try nothin'. Just comin' over to see if you was alright. You know this loser?"
Buffy took a deep breath and ran a hand through her slightly dishevelled golden locks.
"Yep, and he's not a loser, Willie. Just sad and very drunk."
Willie nodded, "Right, well when he wakes up tell him that he's worn out his welcome at Willie's. I'm not a big fan of messes in my bar. I try to keep this place as neutral as possible, you know."
Buffy smiled and nodded, "I know, Willie. I'm sorry about the mess. I'll pay for whatever damage, depresso boy here caused."
Willie waved it off, "No problem, kid. It's no big. I'm just glad you knocked him out before he started something that he might not have lived to finish. If you hadn't come along, no tellin' what this guy might have started and with whom."
Buffy knelt down to Wesleys side and looked upon him thoughtfully, with compassion and sadness. "How long has he been coming here?"
Willie looked up as he thought about it, "Umm, I'd say about just under a week. Why?"
Buffy tilted her head to the side as she noticed that a key, with the tag of the Sunnydale Motor Inn on it beside Wesley's still form and responded destractedly, "Just curious. Thanks, Willie."
Buffy then reached down, grabbed the key and Wesley's arm and pulled his dead weight up off the floor.
She slung his right arm over her shoulder as she put her left arm around his back, then turned to face the bar owner, "Sorry, again about the mess, Willie. Oh, and could you do me a favour? Strictly non demonic in nature."
Willie inclined his head, "Anythin'."
Buffy smiled in thanks, "Could you call me a cab? I really don't feel like dragging his sorry butt half way across town."
Willie smiled and shrugged his shoulders, "Sure thing, kid. You take care of yourself. Where are you takin' him?"
"To his hotel room. Thanks again, Willie. Night!" Buffy replied as she dragged the unconscious Brit towards to door.
Willie smiled, that girl had the biggest heart he had ever seen. Takin' care of that drunk. Willie shook his head as he responded, "No problem. Night, kid" and went to make a phone call.
* End Part 4 *
Author: LanaraofEarth
Rating: PG-13 ish...maybe R later on
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series are not mine and never will be, no matter how much I might wish otherwise. The characters of both shows belong to Joss Wedon, Fox and other people and companies that I can't remember right at this moment.
Summary: After being shunned by the gang in LA, Wesley leaves and ends up in Sunnydale. Possibly Wes and Buffy shippiness
Note: Words etc. in * are a character's inner thoughts/dialogue.
* Part 4 *
Buffy took in her former watcher's appearance with sorrow, and a little shock. His hair was messed and longer than she remembered, he wasn't wearing any glasses, he had a four o'clock shadow, his clothes were a mess and there was a large bandage wrapped around his neck.
* My god…* Buffy thought * He looks horrible, as if he was the one to have lost his family *
Actually, Buffy mused, that probably wasn't far off the mark. In essence, he HAD lost his family; the one that he had worked to build for approximately the last three years.
"Jesus Wesley…"
Wesley blinked down at the slayer and muttered something to himself before he turned and walked back to his corner table. He didn't need this.
Buffy stood in shock at the condition that Wesley was in.
She knew that he had been hurt badly after the run in with one of Holtz's cronies and that the LA gang were all angry with him for what he did, but she hadn't thought that things had become this bad.
He'd left LA and now he was here, in Sunnydale.
What the hell was he doing here?
Buffy strode purposefully over to the table that Wesley had reseated himself at.
The former watcher poured himself another shot of gin and downed it as the slayer pulled the chair out across from him and sat herself down.
Buffy sat watching the man for a moment, taking in the tired creases by his eyes, the dark circles, the bloodshot eyes and shaking hands.
He wasn't taking care of himself at all. In fact, there was a welcome invitation for death written planely across his face, something that Buffy knew very well; she saw it every time she looked in the mirror.
The problem was, that, in this town, an invitation like that didn't remain open for long; sooner or later his wish would be granted.
Wesley didn't have the advantage of Slayer strength or reputation and with his drunkenness he wouldn't last two seconds in a fight, if he even tried.
As much as she and Wesley Wyndam-Price had never gotten along when he had come to replace Giles almost three years ago, she had seen a change in him over the last three years. She didn't know if she could trust him, but she wasn't about to just sit and watch as he drank his life away.
Buffys eyes softened as they gazed upon the broken man before her, "Wesley? Wesley what are you doing?"
Wesley downed another shot before he replied to the question, without meeting Buffys eyes, "Dwinkin' what the bloody hell doesh it look like?"
Buffy stopped the hand that went to pick up the nearly empty bottle as she spoke softly, "Wes, stop this. It won't make the pain stop, believe me, if it were that simple I would have done it a long time ago."
Wesley jerked his hand away from the gentle grasp of the beauty before him, he didn't need nor want her sympathy. He hated the pity he heard in her voice, he didn't deserve kindness, he deserved pain and death after what he did. He was a failure.
"Jush bugger off would you, Buffy. I don deserve yer pity."
Wesley picked up the bottle again and poured another shot.
Buffys left hand shot out quickly and grabbed the shot glass. She downed it in a second and coughed loudly as a look of disgust crossed her face. * Eww, how can he stand to drink that stuff… *
"Hey! That was my bloody shot, get your own, schlayer."
Buffy held up the shot glass teasingly in her left hand, "You mean this? Nope, I don't think so Wes. I think you've had enough booze. Plus, it's probably not good for your throat."
Wesley lunged across the table to capture the shot glass, but he was drunk and Buffy easily evaded him. She pushed her chair back from the table and crossed her legs as a cocky grin came over her face.
She knew that it wasn't fair to toy with the poor man, but a part of her couldn't help it; the old part of her that used to enjoy playing with the snooty watcher who had barged into her life two years ago and started ordering her around.
Wesley glared at her from his sprawled position across the table and pushed himself up as he yelled at her, "Why can't you jusht leave me da hell a- alooone? You hate me, I'm notin'. Not worth been saved."
A frown marred the features of the slayers face at the words coming from Wesleys lips. * Not worth it? *
"Wesley, we may not have gotten along well when we met, mainly because you were a pompus ass…but…I never hated you. You're worth saving, otherwise I wouldn't be here."
Wesley was taken aback by Buffy words. He didn't understand her kindness, but he didn't like it. It made making him feel good…and that was something that he was dead set against.
He didn't deserve happiness. He was nothing. His father had told him that years ago and although he had fought against it, it was always with him and now, he knew why; because it was true.
The only thing that had given his worthless existence meaning was his work with…was his work in LA and his friends. But now they were both gone…and all that was left was an empty void…and the bittersweet oblivion of alcohol.
With that thought in mind Wesley stumbled over to the sitting slayer until he was standing directly in front of her.
The former watcher finally met his old protégé, although, he conceded, she had never really been his.
Buffy's eyes had watched his movement and as Wesley met them he couldn't help thinking how beautiful they were. Deep, hazel pools, so lovely…so pure. Even when he had been at odds with her, he had always thought her the most amazing creature he had ever laid eyes on.
Buffy had a confidence to her that was powerful, but not overbearing or imposing; like Cordelia. No, hers was soft…sweet and almost…shy.
As he moved closer to her, she began to look almost like a wraith, with her golden hair shining in the soft light of the bar. It made her look ethereal, the alcohol probably also contributed to that.
He had expected to find disgust and anger, even hatred in her eyes, but he found none of it. What he found threw him. There was sadness, empathy, pain and above all, understanding.
As if she knew what it was to feel like nothing mattered anymore, and that all that was left in life was pain and despair.
* God she's beautiful *
It was too much, all the emotions. Wesley needed the bottle, to drown it all, make it less painful, less real.
Wesleys eyes shone with tears and pain as he locked eyes with Buffy and she winced at the desolation she saw there, no matter what animosity there might have been between them, no one deserved to be in so much pain.
Wesley spoke in a sorrowfilled voice that was amazingly lucid sounding as he reached out a hand toward her, "Buffy, please, let me have the last consolation left to me."
Buffy shook her head, "It's not all that is left for you, Wesley, and, I'm sorry, but I can't give you this bottle."
Anger raged through Wesley, * how dare she assume she knows what's good for me, just because she is the bloody slayer! *
Wesley exploded screaming as he lunged at Buffy, "Give it to me! You insolent child!!!! It'sh mine!!!"
Buffy pushed the chair back until it fell on the floor, where Buffy did a back roll and quickly rose to her feet, bottle in hand.
Wesley tripped over the fallen chair and fell forward.
Buffy put the bottle down on a nearby table as she tried to reason with the man, "Stop it, Wesley!!! It's not worth it!!"
"NO!! I'M not soddin' worth it!!!" Wesley cried out as he stumbled to his feet and approached the slayer.
"Wesley…" Buffy warned, she didn't want to hurt the already injured man, but he just didn't seem to know when to back down at the moment.
* Probably because he is wasted and feels like he has nothing left to loose. * Buffy's sarcastic inner voice interjected.
Wesley didn't heed the warning and when he came towards her, his eyes almost wild, Buffy sighed and muttered softly, "I'm sorry, Wesley" right before she swung her left leg and delivered a roundhouse kick to his temple.
Wesley fell to the ground with a dull 'thud', unconscious.
Buffy was at his side in a moment, checking to make sure that she hadn't aggravated his throat injury.
She heard footsteps behind her, jumped up to her feet and whirled around, ready for a fight.
Willie put his hands up in surrender, "Whoa there, kid. I ain't gonna try nothin'. Just comin' over to see if you was alright. You know this loser?"
Buffy took a deep breath and ran a hand through her slightly dishevelled golden locks.
"Yep, and he's not a loser, Willie. Just sad and very drunk."
Willie nodded, "Right, well when he wakes up tell him that he's worn out his welcome at Willie's. I'm not a big fan of messes in my bar. I try to keep this place as neutral as possible, you know."
Buffy smiled and nodded, "I know, Willie. I'm sorry about the mess. I'll pay for whatever damage, depresso boy here caused."
Willie waved it off, "No problem, kid. It's no big. I'm just glad you knocked him out before he started something that he might not have lived to finish. If you hadn't come along, no tellin' what this guy might have started and with whom."
Buffy knelt down to Wesleys side and looked upon him thoughtfully, with compassion and sadness. "How long has he been coming here?"
Willie looked up as he thought about it, "Umm, I'd say about just under a week. Why?"
Buffy tilted her head to the side as she noticed that a key, with the tag of the Sunnydale Motor Inn on it beside Wesley's still form and responded destractedly, "Just curious. Thanks, Willie."
Buffy then reached down, grabbed the key and Wesley's arm and pulled his dead weight up off the floor.
She slung his right arm over her shoulder as she put her left arm around his back, then turned to face the bar owner, "Sorry, again about the mess, Willie. Oh, and could you do me a favour? Strictly non demonic in nature."
Willie inclined his head, "Anythin'."
Buffy smiled in thanks, "Could you call me a cab? I really don't feel like dragging his sorry butt half way across town."
Willie smiled and shrugged his shoulders, "Sure thing, kid. You take care of yourself. Where are you takin' him?"
"To his hotel room. Thanks again, Willie. Night!" Buffy replied as she dragged the unconscious Brit towards to door.
Willie smiled, that girl had the biggest heart he had ever seen. Takin' care of that drunk. Willie shook his head as he responded, "No problem. Night, kid" and went to make a phone call.
* End Part 4 *