"Faith!" The sound of his own voice surprises him, it bursts out almost unwillingly.
She turns, a flash of dark hair and tight jeans, brandishing her trademark smirk. "Yeah?"
"Can I have a moment?"
"Wes, we aren't actually going to hug are we?" He flinches. Feels as though she's slapped him.
At least she has the grace to look embarrassed, to motion to Willow to go on ahead to the car.
He sees her look to Angel in desperation, who only shrugs. Face red, she follows him out back.
"I didn't mean that in the uber bitch way it came out."
He won't look at her."Does it really matter?"
"It might. Hate to think that I'm gonna get gutted in SunnyD and have you thinking the wrong thing."
"That's not funny."
"Wasn't kidding."
He turns and they stare at each other for a moment.
"I'm sorry." His voice is so quiet he's not sure that he's spoken out loud.
"We're even, Wesley. Or God, so not at all close to even. This makes up for what? The time I beat you up and ran? The time I tried to kill everyone? Turn Angel? Kill Angel? The time I tortured you? Which?" Her face looks pained.
He sits on the edge of the fountain and looks up at her. He knows his face is flushed, and he hopes that she won't notice.
"I knew what I was doing. Like I said, I rolled the dice."
"I never wanted you to come so close to--."
"I figured."
Interruptions. He's forgotten how much she interrupts.
"No, you--" His face feels oddly stiff, as though he's put glue all over it. "You don't understand. I need you to know that I--- that I never wanted to, never meant to-- it was never about you for Angel. It wasn't a trade."
She looks him in the face for a moment, and flushes again. She looks down.
"Not entirely a bad plan."
"When I thought you were going to... in that room, I've never---. I wanted to take it back. Because it wasn't right. We could have found another way."
"I'm just a Slayer, Wesley. There'd have been another one. It'd have been allright."
Her voice is falsely bravado and he realizes that she's still the little girl inside, the one that thought being a Slayer meant being a hero and that being a hero was about purity and not guts. She makes his heart hurt. He grabs her hand. Has to make her understand.
"No, it wouldn't." A long pause that feels like days. "At all."
She grips his hand tightly. So tightly it hurts, actually. He says nothing, simply squeezes back. "Thanks," she whispers quietly. "Can I ask you a question?" She doesn't release his hand, and he is grateful.
"Yes."
"Can we actually hug?"
He pulls her to him, crushing her slender form against his chest, partly in gratitude and partly in something else that he'd rather not give a name to at the moment. His heart is thudding furiously and he hopes she can't feel it. Her hair is as soft as he'd always expected against his face.
"Be careful, Faith. Whatever you find in Sunnydale. Just-- be careful."
"I'll be fine."
"Promise me." His voice is muffled by her hair.
"Oh, whatever. I promise." She tosses her head and looks up at him, smiling.
Her smile doesn't quite make it to her eyes. He realizes that she's scared, and he's scared for her.
He kisses her hair, softly. Quickly. So quickly that he's not sure she's noticed, until her arms slide up around his neck. She says nothing, only leans her face into his throat.
He closes his eyes and exhales against her hair, like a prayer. "Come back in one piece."
Her voice vibrates against his skin. "I will."
He hugs her again, quick and hard, then clears his throat. Grasps a sprig of jasmine and tucks it behind her ear. The words won't come, and she says it for him.
"Willow's waiting."
She turns, a flash of dark hair and tight jeans, brandishing her trademark smirk. "Yeah?"
"Can I have a moment?"
"Wes, we aren't actually going to hug are we?" He flinches. Feels as though she's slapped him.
At least she has the grace to look embarrassed, to motion to Willow to go on ahead to the car.
He sees her look to Angel in desperation, who only shrugs. Face red, she follows him out back.
"I didn't mean that in the uber bitch way it came out."
He won't look at her."Does it really matter?"
"It might. Hate to think that I'm gonna get gutted in SunnyD and have you thinking the wrong thing."
"That's not funny."
"Wasn't kidding."
He turns and they stare at each other for a moment.
"I'm sorry." His voice is so quiet he's not sure that he's spoken out loud.
"We're even, Wesley. Or God, so not at all close to even. This makes up for what? The time I beat you up and ran? The time I tried to kill everyone? Turn Angel? Kill Angel? The time I tortured you? Which?" Her face looks pained.
He sits on the edge of the fountain and looks up at her. He knows his face is flushed, and he hopes that she won't notice.
"I knew what I was doing. Like I said, I rolled the dice."
"I never wanted you to come so close to--."
"I figured."
Interruptions. He's forgotten how much she interrupts.
"No, you--" His face feels oddly stiff, as though he's put glue all over it. "You don't understand. I need you to know that I--- that I never wanted to, never meant to-- it was never about you for Angel. It wasn't a trade."
She looks him in the face for a moment, and flushes again. She looks down.
"Not entirely a bad plan."
"When I thought you were going to... in that room, I've never---. I wanted to take it back. Because it wasn't right. We could have found another way."
"I'm just a Slayer, Wesley. There'd have been another one. It'd have been allright."
Her voice is falsely bravado and he realizes that she's still the little girl inside, the one that thought being a Slayer meant being a hero and that being a hero was about purity and not guts. She makes his heart hurt. He grabs her hand. Has to make her understand.
"No, it wouldn't." A long pause that feels like days. "At all."
She grips his hand tightly. So tightly it hurts, actually. He says nothing, simply squeezes back. "Thanks," she whispers quietly. "Can I ask you a question?" She doesn't release his hand, and he is grateful.
"Yes."
"Can we actually hug?"
He pulls her to him, crushing her slender form against his chest, partly in gratitude and partly in something else that he'd rather not give a name to at the moment. His heart is thudding furiously and he hopes she can't feel it. Her hair is as soft as he'd always expected against his face.
"Be careful, Faith. Whatever you find in Sunnydale. Just-- be careful."
"I'll be fine."
"Promise me." His voice is muffled by her hair.
"Oh, whatever. I promise." She tosses her head and looks up at him, smiling.
Her smile doesn't quite make it to her eyes. He realizes that she's scared, and he's scared for her.
He kisses her hair, softly. Quickly. So quickly that he's not sure she's noticed, until her arms slide up around his neck. She says nothing, only leans her face into his throat.
He closes his eyes and exhales against her hair, like a prayer. "Come back in one piece."
Her voice vibrates against his skin. "I will."
He hugs her again, quick and hard, then clears his throat. Grasps a sprig of jasmine and tucks it behind her ear. The words won't come, and she says it for him.
"Willow's waiting."