Note: Ok, I change POVs in the middle of a scene, so be warned and don't get lost. Thanks!!

Chapter Seventeen – This Isn't What You Think

He was here. Right here in front of her. His hand was warm to the touch. His eyes big and pleading. And she needed to get away from him, whatever he was as soon as possible.

So she bit him, hard.

Wesley pulled his hand back slightly. Then she kneed him in the groin. She watched as he keeled over, groaning in agony. Then she punched him. He fell to the ground in pain.

"Ow," he wheezed out. "That hurt very, very much."

Faith watched as he panted, lying on the bedroom floor, curled up in a ball. Obviously slayer strength wasn't everything. She still knew a trick or two.

"I don't know who or what you are, but you need to get the hell out of here or else."

"You have to listen to me," Wesley started. "This isn't what you think."

"Get out of here, you, you zombie."

Wesley slowly climbed to his feet, but was still hunched over in pain. "I am not a zombie. Doesn't it look like I'm alive? At least I think I am."

Faith looked at his sweater, at his face. Sure the sweater was covered in dried blood, but his skin surely didn't look dead. It was quite flushed at the moment. Should have asked Angel more about zombies, she thought. Although they must be just as pasty as Angel was.

Wesley pulled the damaged sweater off and threw it to the ground. The knife wound he had obtained in the fight with Vail was still bleeding.

"Zombies don't bleed?"

"No, zombies don't bleed." Wesley swayed a little on his feet. "I don't think humans should bleed this much either."

Faith caught him as he staggered. "Sit down." She pushed him on the bed, and then ran to get the first aid kit from the bathroom.

"Second drawer on the right," he yelled to her.

Faith opened the second drawer and there it was. He knew exactly where it would be. Would only Wesley know exactly where it would be? Her hands trembled a little imagining that the reanimated body in there might be the real Wesley. As she went back into the bedroom, Wesley had laid on the bed, one arm over his eyes, the other over his wound.

"I need to bandage this somehow," she told him as she sat on the bed.

She slapped a bandage down over the wound, making Wesley wince in pain. Do zombies feel pain?

"A little more gently, Faith," he cried out.

"Sorry. Not something I do every day, OK."

Wesley smiled at her. "I am not a zombie. Really. I'm not sure what happened, but here I am. So don't worry about me eating your flesh anytime soon."

Faith jumped up off the bed, wary of what he just said. "So that's what they do? I knew that."

She hung onto the towel tightly, trying to figure out if she could make the phone and call Angel. This Wesley seemed to be fast. But since she'd lost her slayer powers, probably there were people out there that were faster than she was. And she had been surprised to find him in the bedroom.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked of her.

"You're dead."

"I know. I was there."

"So. How've you been?"

Wesley giggled. "I think I've gone insane finally. I wondered when it would happen."

"Don't worry. Not insane yet. Unless you start repeating yourself and expecting different results each time."

"That didn't make a bit of sense, Faith." Slowly, Wesley sat up in the bed, wincing at the wound.

None of what was happening right then made much sense to Faith either. But here he was. Back from the dead. She hoped it was he. Because he was really pulling the wool over her eyes if he wasn't who he said he was.

"So, if you're Wesley, what happened when I threw that knife at you, huh?"

"Which one? There were so many times," he replied.

"Only once," she told him, pointing a finger his way.

"You threw it not at me but at the skittering spider on the wall that was ready to take my face off. I thought that's what you were doing at the time. And by the way, could you have at least warned me when you did it?"

"Evil, remember?"

Faith remembered throwing that knife. And Buffy ultimately using it on her to almost kill her.

"Join the club."

"OK, how about how did you get that scar right there?" she asked. Faith pointed to a small scar on his chest near his collarbone.

"Oh God, Faith. Do you know how many times I've been injured?" Faith stared at him, warning him to answer her. "You did it, alright."

So he did remember that one. Figures. At least if he was a zombie, he didn't get mad at the torture memory.

"What about what I said on the way back into LA after you broke me out of prison? Remember that one?" Faith might have him stumped with that memory.

"There were so many things you said. To what are you referring?"

"What did I say after your little demonstration, you jerk?"

Wesley smiled. "Just like riding a biker I think it was," he told her, blushing a little.

Holy shit, it was Wesley. How many other things did she have to ask him? There were things that only he would know. Zombies were just reanimated corpses. He certainly didn't look like a corpse.

"OK. What did you call me after I took that gag out of your mouth?"

"Not something I wish to repeat," he told her, looking down at his hands.

"It was true though. You have to admit that."

Wesley sighed at her statement. "At the time, that's what I thought. You are not a piece of shit, you never were a piece of shit Faith."

Damn, same old Wes. It was he. "Dammit, why? What happened? You were dead. Illyria saw it happen."

Wesley closed his eyes at the thought of Illyria. Yes, she had seen him die. Had given him a moment of peace. But she wasn't Fred, could never be Fred. His love was gone and would never return. He needed to move on and figure out a way out of the mess he was in and fulfill his duty.

"Yes, she did. I was in another dimension afterwards."

Faith sat on the edge of the bed now, wanting to listen to his side of the story. He'd made the right choice coming to her first.

"Were you happy?"

"I didn't really have the time to be happy. Too much to do and all that."

"Figures. No rest for the wicked. Or whatever the saying is. Is it bad? Being dead I mean. I was in that coma for a while, so I sort of know things."

He and Faith could relate on a certain level. "Not bad being dead. Sometimes a lot better than being alive, that's for sure."

"I'm sorry, about everything that happened. I tried to make it on time," Faith started.

"Not your fault."

"Yeah, kinda stupid on your part though."

Now let the blaming begin, he thought. She must have heard the story from Angel.

"Which part might that be?" he growled out.

"You know what I learned from you?"

"What? You actually learned from me?" he sarcastically retorted back.

"Never, ever take on an opponent who is stronger and more powerful without backup. You broke that rule, buster."

Faith was right. He had broken that rule. Knew he was breaking that rule as soon as he walked into Vail's mansion. And Vail had surprised him with something totally unexpected, a knife. It hadn't been enchanted, it hadn't been magical in origin. It was a simple, very large knife, which Vail had twisted into his gut, ending his pain and suffering at the time. It was a total cop-out. He knew that. Death was just too easy.

"So Angel's looking for me?"

"He wants to chop your head off," Faith mentioned as she got up off the bed.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he answered.

"I should, uh, I need to uh put some clothes on. So don't go anywhere," Faith told him as she backed towards the bathroom.

As she slammed the door home, he gingerly got up off the bed and opened the closet door again to find some of his clothes. His bare chest itched like crazy from the dried blood and the pants were just unsalvageable. He grabbed a shirt off the hanger, but stopped as he smelled Faith's unique scent on the shirt. That heightened sense of smell that he had gained was interesting, indeed.

Faith quickly came out of the bathroom, fidgeting around as he pulled a pair of pants off a hanger. The shirt she had on was his, but he didn't want to mention it. That one looked better on her than it did on him.

"If I were to take a shower, would you call Angel, because I don't relish walking out of the shower nude to find a sword at my throat."

"No. No Angel, yet. But he needs to know that you're not a zombie. Might make him feel a little better."

Faith cared about Angel's feelings. Oh, how sweet. Wesley wanted to vomit.

"Not that you can't feel better, you know," Faith continued, obviously seeing the expression on his face.

She had read him like a book quickly. Was he that obvious? Reaching for the drawer, he opened it to find not his undergarments, but Faith's. And there was not much fabric to them either.

"Hey you were dead. I needed the space," she smiled his way, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Going commando too. Oh, the things I put up with," he quipped, watching Faith's reaction to his words.

She snorted in laughter. "Too much information, dude. They're in a box in the closet. You're just lucky I hadn't given them away yet."

"Yes, lucky that my slayer has gone through my undergarments. Very lucky of me."

Faith shook her head in amazement. "Thank God you're not a zombie."

"Why is that?" he asked as he headed to the bathroom.

"You're hilarious when you've just come back to life."

Faith smiled at him and nodded her head, like she was acknowledging his presence and it pleased her. Being alive again may not be as bad as he thought.

Faith started crying as soon as she pulled the bedroom door closed. Were her senses off? Was that man in there her watcher? He certainly acted like it. He was certainly warm to the touch. As she walked into the living room, she picked up the phone, and then put it down again. Angel would kill him on sight. The vampire had gone through too much trauma to ever believe that Wesley would come back to life. It would take a lot of convincing on her part before she'd let Angel anywhere near Wesley.

She paced as she thought of what to do next. Something had obviously happened in Vail's mansion. She had misjudged completely the scene that had appeared before her. He spoke to her, for goodness sake. And she had run like a scared chicken. She'd have to ask him for the whole story once he was done with his shower.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she wondered how it would feel to be dead. Buffy had been dead and had come back not once, but twice, the second time being dead for months. Willow's spell had dragged her back from heaven, Buffy had mentioned to her one day. Had Wes been in heaven? Had someone dragged him back to the living? She wasn't going to heaven that was for sure.

"You're wearing a hole in that carpet," Wesley called out to her as he entered the room, fresh from his shower.

His hair was still shiny with water and he was still buttoning up his shirt as he walked further into the room.

"Looks as if you already started one," she answered back, looking down at the carpet, hoping that he didn't see her tears.

"Yes, a great way to brood, as I recall."

"Were you in heaven?" she blurted out as he came closer to her.

"Ha. Me in heaven? You must be joking," he answered in a none too serious voice.

She looked up at him, shaking her head at his aloofness. He rubbed his hands over his face, as if trying to contemplate an answer.

"I just thought," she started.

"Faith. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. No, no heaven for me. Not a place a murderer goes."

Faith's eyes widened in surprise. Then she shook her head in agreement. She remembered Spike's commentary about the whole business with Fred dying and Illyria's rise.

"Yeah. I guess not."

"Redemption is a bitch, as they say, even in the afterlife."

"So what do we do, now, I mean?" Faith wanted him to tell her what to do.

"We run," he told her in all seriousness.

"What?"

"There's someone coming. And it's not Angel. At least three, maybe four demons. Large, maybe armed."

"How do you know this?"

"Not sure," he told her as he grabbed her hand.

"Where are they?"

"Right outside the door," he answered as he heard a thud against the door.

The door then shook with great intensity.

"Let's get the fuck out of here. Window?"

"Bedroom," he agreed as he pulled her hand his way.

The door gave way, admitting the demons part of the way. They then stopped because of his spell. It wouldn't last long. But maybe long enough for the two of them to slip outside unnoticed.

TBC

Next: Sorry guys. No Lindsey in this chapter because I got carried away with Faith and Wesley. Hopefully if they don't hog all the time, he'll appear. And I really need some Illyria/Spike time, because they deserve it. Now, we're ready for action. Faith does believe him. Wait until she sees him fight. Should be fun.

Author notes: Ok, so you guys are going to kill me, but the writing just kept happening and flowing and I couldn't stop. It's an addiction or something. So only pari106 has been able to review it. I'm sorry. I really am. Now on to the important stuff. I know that there are a few of you out there who are worried about where this thing is headed. Lots of comments about Wes forgetting about Fred and all. I know, I know. He won't forget about her. If I do forget, pull me back. But I want to keep up the banter between Wes and Faith. He truly has something to live for now. And he can right a wrong he thinks he committed in Sunnydale, which was to protect Faith and make sure she's safe and blah, blah, blah. Those responsibility issues rear their ugly heads. Don't think that the next chapter will come this easily. Now I'll probably get writer's block or something.

P.S. for pari106 – I'm in denial too. And I have a feeling that Joss would bring Wes back in whatever form he could. Or maybe not. Of course, I wouldn't be very happy about that, now would I.