Title: Identity
Author: InsinuoAnimus
Disclaimer: Know the drill, love the drill, use the drill. None of the characters are mine. Sorry.
Summary: The line between reality and fantasy are often blurred. If not invisible.

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{ tell me what it's like to be with you
remind me of the things we used to do
and tell me that this time will never end
tell me what it's like, tell me again }



Wesley couldn't even remember the last time he was in England and now here he was. In England. In a mental institution in England nonetheless. Wesley was sure he was in hell now. He wasn't that bad of a person, was he? A little rough around the edges, yes. He made decisions that weren't always the right ones. He could often be selfish when it came to certain people, things. He often found himself indulging in the dark side of things. But that didn't qualify him as a bad person. But of course, it certainly didn't qualify him as one of them.

At least he had the decency to realize this was the first time he actually thought of his friends. Former friends. Most likely deceased friends. The moment he opened his eyes, all he saw was Fred. Her tired eyes, her quick smile, her scent-- and of course, Eleanor Wilkins. His doctor. It was absolute rubbish, of course. He didn't believe it for one moment. He certainly wasn't the most sane person around, but that didn't qualify him to be insane. At least insane enough to be landed in one of England's most well known mental institutions. But yes, now he thought of them. Of Angel. What was his last thoughts of the vampire? He could hardly remember. He found himself having an odd urge to see him again. Just a quick glance. He found that he was hoping that maybe Angel did make it out alive. Him and Angel weren't what they used to be, but Wesley found that he didn't wish death upon him. This year he had been living a lie, the lie of being Angel's closest friend again. When he broke the box that contained forgotten memories, Wesley had felt it all rushing back. But surprisingly enough, he wasn't angry. He knew he had been foolish to assume that Angel would have risked Fred, the look in Angel's eyes, the desperation had ripped through him like another knife at his throat. Yes, he still cared about Angel. He probably cared about Angel more than the others. Certainly more than Gunn, clearly more than Spike, sadly more than Lorne. Wesley still remembers the last look he gave Angel, their eyes had connected for a second. The silent good bye. Yes, of course Wesley had told Illyria that he had no intentions of dying, but god, he had known.

"Wes?"

Wesley turns his thoughts off for a second and turns his head to the pretty female that the voice belongs to. She had pulled her hair into a nervous pony-tail when they had took the first steps out of the hospital, there was strands of her hair that had fallen out of the pony-tail. He had noticed how her hands had shook when she rushed to the passenger side of the door and opened it for him. He had stared at her blankly for a few seconds, but moving his eyes away from and getting in the car when he noticed he was making her uncomfortable. He stared at her like that again, blinking and turning his gaze to the simple radio in the simple car of hers, noticing for the first time it was on. Country music. He suppose he should have found that amusing. Even in England, she was listening to country music. She was still listening to The Dixie Chicks. He wondered if she still had their posters.

"Just making sure you're still here with me." Fred said, when Wesley didn't say anything to her. She was relieved that he had even turned his head toward her. For a moment her breath caught in her throat when his blue eyes were on hers. They were an icy blue. That was another thing about Wesley that amazed her. His eyes could turn different shades of blue. When his emotions whirled around him, when he felt a certain way, his eyes showed that too. She had always found it fascinating, she had found herself searching through whatever fog that whirled around them at the time, for his eyes. Many years later he had the same ability.

"Where else would I be?"

Fred gripped the steering wheel and made a quick turn, forcing herself to let out a breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Wesley rest his head against the car window, his eyes closed a few seconds after that. Fred wasn't even sure what she was doing. Why did she find the need to go to The Retreat when she got that call? She could have just told Eleanor Wilkins that Wesley Pryce was her past, that it had been close to six years since she had made the call, handed him over to the hospital, and that she didn't have any intention of bringing her past back. But instead Fred had changed quickly, looked in the mirror and told herself that she would be a fool not to see him again. Six years was too long, and after all, she was the only one he could count on. Hadn't that been what he told her? She was the only one that mattered. How could she stay away from him?

Even with closed eyes, Wesley could feel her. He could see the way her eyebrows were knitted together, he could see the frown of concentration etched across her face. He could see how she was biting her lip, the way she gripped, released, and gripped the steering wheel again. "Don't frown, it causes wrinkles."

Fred blinked in surprise and let out a genuine laugh. "You always tell me that."

"And surprise, surprise, you still don't listen to me."

"I listen to you!" Fred exclaimed, her voice in mock hurt. "Why Mr. Pryce, I can't believe the nerve you have. If anyone doesn't listen to anyone, it's you that don't listen to me. You never have and--"

"Never will." Wesley finished for her. Wesley frowned suddenly, but didn't open his eyes. He didn't know what part of the conversation irked him, but he felt an odd familiarity wash over him. As if, he did indeed have this conversation before. Wesley couldn't remember ever telling Fred not to frown because it would cause her to have wrinkles, in fact he couldn't remember why he had even said that. To break the silence that was in the car? Perhaps. But it didn't explain why this conversation felt so familiar. Why he had finished her sentence, as if he had done it before or if he had heard her say it before. But that wasn't possible. He would have remembered.

This time the silence didn't make Fred so uncomfortable. She drove in silence, the only thing she could hear now was The Dixie Chicks and the sound of Wesley's breaths. This reminded her so much of the people they were six years ago. Hadn't they been in this same car, her listening to country music while he rested? She had been driving him to the very same place she was now, she had just bought the house and was excited, Wesley was the first person that would see the house. Rupert, second. At the time Fred hadn't known Rupert all that much, but he seemed like a nice enough fellow, plus he was best friends with Wesley, that was all Fred needed to know. That and they both had British accents and she found she was quite fond of them. A week later Wesley would change, leaving only Rupert for Fred to depend on while Wesley was in The Retreat Mental Hospital.

"And welcome to my humble abode." Fred grinned, she turned around to see what Wesley thought of it. If he loved or hated it, his face didn't show anything. Fred watched Wesley look around the house, making a 'hmm' sound every few seconds. Oh how she hated when he did this. She was sure he did this to torture her. "So?"

"It's all right, I suppose." Wesley finally let a grin fall over his feature when Fred frowned at him in that disapproving way she always did. "Don't frown, it causes wrinkles." Wesley moved away from Fred and walked into the kitchen, smiling softly at the way she had it set up. It almost felt like he was back in her home in Texas, instead of her very first house in England. He tilted his head, looking at a picture of them she had sitting next to her favorite type of flowers, daises. She had said they weren't classy like roses, but she was no rose.

"You always tell me that." Fred pointed out playfully.

"And surprise, surprise, you still don't listen to me."

"I listen to you!" Fred exclaimed, grinning as Wesley arched up an eyebrow. "Why Mr. Pryce, I can't believe the nerve you have. If anyone doesn't listen to anyone, it's you that don't listen to me. You never have and--"

"Never will." Wesley grinned back and leaned back, resting against the kitchen counter.

"So?" Fred walked into the kitchen and leaned against the opposite counter, waiting.

"I like it."

Casting another glance over at Wesley, she smiled softly when her suspicions were confirmed by his calm breaths. The frown was off his face, his left hand had stopped twitching every few minutes, confirming that he was indeed asleep. Fred knew all about Wesley's sleeping patterns, how many nights had she stayed up watching him sleep? The few weeks before his sudden change, she saw a difference in how he slept. His body had begun to start twitching in his sleep and he had begun muttering names she had never heard before.

Except one.

Charles Gunn.

Tearing her gaze away from Wesley, she sighed softly when she saw her house come into view. It had been a two hour ride from the hospital back to her house and two hours had never seemed so long before in her life.


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"And welcome to my humble abode."

Wesley paused in his walking, he turned to look at Fred strangely. He was sure he had heard those words before, he just couldn't remember. Pushing that thought aside, he moved deeper into the house, staring at the way she had set it up. He couldn't help the smile that started to pull at the corners of his lips when he saw all the books she had all around the house. He moved to the bookcase and trailed his fingers across the spines of various books. He heard her moving behind him, he didn't turn to her yet, he just pulled out a book and opened it up, taking in the smell of the book. "You still love books." Wesley said, putting the book away.

"Well of course. I've always been a book worm, you know that."

"Do I?" Wesley turned to Fred, watching how uncertainty flashed in her eyes. He took a step back and away from her, but stopped when he felt her hand on his arm, he turned his eyes back at her, this time there was no uncertainty, there was just a question look in her brown eyes. He found that the same brown eyes he used to love looking at were now the eyes he couldn't look at. He turned away again but didn't move or brush her hand off of him. Everything was still swimming around in his head. This was all in his imagination, an image he created, this wasn't real, he was gone, he was dead. But the touch of Fred's hand on his arm was incredibly warm, and the aching in his heart was far too real. He wanted to believe this was his hell, but again the touch on his arm made him think otherwise. How could it be hell if Fred was here? Things were always better when she was around...

"Wesley?" Fred moved to the front of Wesley, removing her hand from his arm. She saw an odd look in Wesley's eyes before he closed them, shutting her out once again. Maybe this is what she deserved for turning him over to the hospital all those years ago. Rupert had told her it was the only option, but maybe there had been another one. What if she had believed him? Sure, it sounded absurd to believe in vampires and demons, but maybe she could have saved him. He had trusted her, asked her if he could tell her something, confide in her, and she had told him he could and then turned him over to strangers, assuming that they could save him.

"You think I'm crazy." Wesley didn't open his eyes, or made it seem like a question. It was a fact.

"No, Wes--"

"You do." Wesley opened his eyes this time, his blue eyes blazing a look that Fred wasn't used to. She almost took a step back, but instead she stood her ground. "I'm not crazy. I don't care what those doctors say, I don't care what you think you remember about me, about," Wesley gestured around before speaking again, "this world, I'm not crazy." Wesley paused and let out a bitter chuckle. "Actually, I suppose I am."

"I never thought..."

"I've been crazy since the day I lost you."

Fred let out a breath, this time she did touch him. She brought up her hand and touched his cheek, feeling the stubble tickling at her smooth skin. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the days Wesley would forget to shave, she remembered how he would come up behind her and nuzzle her neck, grinning when she giggled at the way his stubble tickled the smooth skin of her neck. Those moments had been endearing, they made her heart flutter, now they made her heart beat violently against her chest. Because here he was again, after six years he was standing in front of her. Finding her bravery again, she opened her eyes and felt her heart start to beating even more violently when Wesley leaned into her touch, oh dear god, she wasn't ready for this. "W-Wesley..." she let out a breath, mentally chastising herself for how weak her voice sounded. She wasn't weak, hadn't Wesley once told her that? He had believed she was one of the strongest people he knew. "I, I don't think you're crazy. It was so many years ago, god... you scared us, you know that? You scared us so much."

"You haven't seen anything, yet." Wesley said, moving away from Fred and walking off.


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"Nifty place, you have here."

Wesley didn't turn to the voice, he just continued to stare at the sky, he gripped the balcony railing, gripping until his knuckles were almost white, he finally let the railing go when he a quick pain rip throughout his left arm. He looked down at it, remembering the white gauze. The injury must have been fresh, it still hurt whenever he moved his hand too fast or put too much pressure on that particular hand, particular wrist. Wesley heard the foot steps. They moved from behind him to the side of him, they finally stopped after a few minutes, Wesley turned his head to the side, swallowing hard when he saw him. "I suppose it's okay."

"Okay? Man, I would have given up my soul for a place like this."

"You wouldn't have had time to enjoy it."

"Oh, yeah. What with the maiming and the killing."

"Always a favorite pastime." Wesley let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "Angel."

"Who did you think it would be? Gunn? Not likely. Spike? Please. Cordy?" Angel paused, looking up at the sky for a moment. One moment turned into a few moments, Angel let a breath he really didn't need, he spoke again, not turning to face Wesley, even though the British was staring at him. "Not happening. Lorne? Nah. Looks like I'm the man for the job." He flickered his eyes over to Wesley and half grinned at him. "Well vampire."

"They think I'm crazy."

"Well aren't you?" Angel grinned even wider when Wesley narrowed his eyes at him. "We're all a little crazy, Wes. It just seems you're crazier than most. Or that's what they say, at least. So," Angel leaned further over the railing, marveling at the sight in front of him. He didn't remember England being this beautiful. "I hear I'm a figment of your imagination. You know, Wes, you could have at least given me a break here or there. Couldn't I have gotten the girl in the end? By the way, Nina? Shocking, really. Who would have thought of that one?" Angel paused and let out a low chuckle. "Well I guess you did. But man, you really like the angst, don't you?"

"You weren't a figment of my imagination. Please tell me that you weren't."

"Don't know." Angel shrugged. "I felt real enough."

"Did you..." Wesley swallowed the lump at the back of his throat again, trying to find the words.

"Die?" Angel smiled when Wesley nodded. "If I did, I don't remember. Not too sure on that one. I'm thinking if I did live through it, I'll give Nina a call. Tell her it's safe to come back. Then maybe I'll go see Connor. I know I sent him away and told him to go back to his family, but I'd just like to see him again. He's a good kid."

"He is. He loves you."

"Shocking, huh?" Angel had a smile on his face, one that was slightly contagious, because Wesley smiled slightly. It was a proud smile on Angel's face. The same smile Angel had when he used to hold Connor in his arms, when Connor was just a baby, before everything else that happened. "He tried to save me."

"I thought he didn't like the fight anymore."

"He did it for me." Angel was still smiling. "Guess I got the happy ending after all. I had my son." The mood in the air moved from an air of pride into seriousness. Angel turned to get a better look at Wesley and frowned. "When Illyria told me you were dead, it was just... I never really got to say some stuff to you..."

"Me neither. I suppose some things are better left unsaid, though."

"Not always." Angel said, turning his eyes back to the sky, to anything but Wesley. "Not the stuff we had to say. I lose everyone I really care about. When we looked at each other, before you left... well I guess that was our good bye. I don't think I was ready for it. Deep down, I knew. How could I not? I knew I'd lose pretty much all of you. But I wasn't really ready to lose you. Me, you, and Cordy. That's how it started, then you two..."

"I knew."

"I know."

Wesley let out a breath and finally turned away from Angel, he leaned over the railing, looking at the same sky, mimicking Angel's own actions. "Angel." Neither of them turned to each other. "Is this it?"

"It?"

"Where we say good bye?"

Angel was quiet for a long time, he looked over his shoulder at Wesley. "Not yet."

When Wesley finally turned to Angel, he no longer found the vampire with a soul next to him. He turned around and looked around but the only person out on the balcony of Fred's house was just him. Bringing up his hands, he scrubbed at his face. God, he was going insane. He moved away from the railing and went to walk off, but he paused when he saw something silver flash into the corner of his eye for a moment. Moving back to the railing, he saw it. Angel's ring. He put the ring in his pocket and walked in the direction of the house.

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"Can't sleep?"

Fred blinked and looked up, she smiled when she saw Wesley standing at the entrance of the kitchen. She shrugged and pulled out a chair for him, for a moment he just stared at the chair and she felt her heart stop, she wondered if he remembered this tradition. She looked down at her cereal, taking another bite. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wesley walk into the kitchen and over to the chair. Only once he sat down, next to her, did her heart start to beat regularly. "I was just thinking, I do too much of that. Want some?"

Before Wesley could answer, Fred was already up, grabbing the milk, a spoon and a bowl. He didn't say anything, not yet, he just watched her walk back over to the table and pour him a bowl of cereal. A few seconds later, he was greeted with a bowl full of cheerios, he took a bite and let the silence wrap around them. It had to be at least two in the morning, taking another bite, he turned to Fred. "I do too much of it too. Thinking."

"We always thought too much. It always got in the way of things. We were always calculating things. Numbers, fractions, decimals, that's all I can think about sometimes. Theories, what can go into what, why this exists and why that doesn't, that is always running around in my mind. It keeps me up at nights."

"Fred?"

Fred paused, lowering her spoon for a second. "Yeah?"

"Would you have loved me?" Echoes of Fred's voice asking him the same thing resound in his head. The same question bounces back and forth in his mind, almost painfully, only stopping when Fred speaks again.

"I loved you the moment I met you, no, I think I loved you before I met you, somehow."

Wesley closed his eyes, remembering the moment he had heard those words. The words he said to Fred.

Fred sighed, she dropped her spoon into her bowl with a clank. She turned her chair, so she was facing Wesley completely. She reached out and touched him again, just like before he leaned into the touch. With her other hand, she pulled Wesley's chair to face hers. "Look at me." She smiled when she saw his blue eyes. "I always loved your eyes. I used to look through a crowd just to find them. Eleanor, she told me you might not remember your past, that you blocked it out in favor of the other world, she said you may never remember, but no matter what, I'll be here. Staying away from you is no longer an option. And I don't think you're crazy."

"Do me a favor." Wesley said, leaning forward in his chair, so his face was only a few inches from Fred's.

"Anything."

"Remind me."