Chapter Five – Holding on to the Edge
Faith could see Wes's shoulders tense up, spine straighten until it almost cracked, stiff upper lip even stiffer than it was when he was in Sunnydale. Slowly turning around to face the older man, she placed her fists on her hips.
The blue eyes were the same in color, but the elder Wyndam-Pryce's were cold and calculating, while Wes's were warm and inviting. They weren't the beautiful, brilliant blue that she always associated with Wes. His were dull and a little scary. Hell, Wes's eyes were even more beautiful than most girls. This older man in front of her probably always had an edge to him, making him look worn before his time. He was a bit shorter than Wes, but imposing in personality. Just like she could be if pushed too far. So she stood her ground, directly in front of her watcher.
"They said that you had made an appearance before the Council yesterday. Why did you not speak with me beforehand?"
"I did not even know you were informed of my arrival."
"Yes, it did come as a bit of a shock."
Yeah, the guy must have flipped when he heard that Wes was alive. No more partying because of the loss of his son. Faith wanted to smack the smug look off the guy's face.
"I do apologize. Why are you here, Father?"
"Oh, I have business to discuss with the Council."
Faith didn't know whether Wesley was gonna introduce her or not. She bet that the older guy knew exactly who and what she was. Probably was the cause of the sneer every time he looked at her.
"Father, I don't believe that you have been introduced to Faith."
Boy, Faith wished she could look at Wes right then. The look of disgust on his father's face was just so wrong.
"Yes, the girl who single handedly destroyed your career, your very life. What I do not understand is why she hasn't been put down."
Wesley's hand came up to her arm, holding tight. She wasn't moving toward his father, well, not too much anyway. She knew that the guy just wanted to get a rise out of her. Or maybe he had other motives?
"Now who's the murderer," Faith muttered.
"Father, those were the old ways. We don't murder people just because they've displeased us."
Good, Wesley was taking her side, for now. His grip lessened just slightly. The coldness of his hand sent a small shiver down her spine. Maybe the heat of her arm would warm him.
"Her displeasure for you ended with a torture session if I do remember correctly."
"What happened between Faith and myself is between us. We have forgiven . . . ," Wesley started.
"Forgiven? She tried to kill you, boy. That's why you should have done your duty in the first place. If you had, maybe, just maybe the Council would still employ you. Instead, you chose not to do it. And the situation we are in now? If a new slayer had been called, maybe the Council would still be intact."
"What situation? The situation you helped create? Your ways are outdated. Killing Faith would have not solved anything."
"You have no power here, boy. You never will. You will always be a disappointment."
Wesley's hand became much warmer on her arm, almost to the point of burning a little. Her skin tingled, hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. She had to speak up. To defend Wesley from this asshole in front of her. But first, she had to calm Wesley, because she could feel something changing in him just by feeling the touch of his hands.
Faith finally spoke up. "He's not the one who got the Council destroyed. He's not the one who couldn't defeat the First. We did, without the help of you jackasses here in England."
"You will not speak to me with such insolence."
"Ah, come on," she postured. "I haven't enjoyed a good smackdown lately."
Wesley's other hand caught her before she could take another step. He walked closer to her until their bodies were touching just slightly.
"Wesley, you will control this girl, or I will have her removed."
Only Faith didn't hear him any longer. The close contact with Wes blocked out everything else. She could feel his heart beat, feel him breathe in and out, hear his feet shifting just slightly. The rushing of his blood roared through her ears. And deep down inside of him, a darkness started to rise. She could feel him struggling to control it, like he would lash out and burn his father to ash. So she did the only thing she could think of, which was to think calming thoughts. If she could feel his turmoil, could he feel her trying to be calm?
Whatever had tried to escape from him was tamped down for the time being.
"You cannot, Father. She is my slayer. She always will be," she finally heard Wes say.
Taking her hand, he led her out of the room and away from his father. Just after they rounded the corner, out of sight of the jerk, Wesley slumped against the wall, panting.
"Wes, what the fuck just happened?" she whispered.
Looking into his eyes, she saw that familiar, yet scary face he had made when Vail had tried taking him over.
"Let go, Faith," he growled out to her.
Before she could do as he asked, a major jolt of electricity shot out of his arm into hers, arcing her body in the air, and slamming it into the wall behind her. Her head smacked really hard against the wall, making her scream in pain.
Willow wasn't having a good day. A really crappy day, if anyone had cared to ask her. Everyone was angry with her, even Buffy, who hadn't talked to her after the incident in the hallway. No one understood, except maybe Xander. That's what he was for her, Mr. Understanding Guy. Why didn't anyone see that? They were just friends, best buds. That was it. They had talked for hours, until he had fallen asleep on her bed. Sure, they snuggled, but no hanky panky went on. Spike must have been imagining things. They were so over each other. Besides, she had Kennedy.
Who was she fooling? She didn't have Kennedy. She would never have Kennedy. They were like two ships passing in the night. Kennedy was roaming around South Africa at the moment, still rounding up potential slayers. She had pointedly told Willow not to come with her, which seemed strange since they were girlfriends. Willow still didn't know what she did wrong.
Standing outside Giles's office, she took a deep breath, not wanting to speak with the man, but knowing she had to get it over with. He would probably lecture her on her sleeping arrangements, tell her that it wasn't appropriate. But nothing, really nothing went on. And besides, she was an adult. So no with the lecturing.
As Willow touched the doorknob to enter Giles's office, her hand tingled. Now that was strange, she thought. Her breath caught in her throat the next instant. Dark magicks, the blackest of the black poured over and out her veins. Using her mental chants that the coven had taught her, she grounded herself almost instantly. Letting go of the doorknob, she took several cleansing breaths. Where had that come from? It was then that she realized that it hadn't emanated from her.
"Oh, shit," she squeaked out to no one, taking off at a fast run down the corridor.
She knew exactly where it had come from. And she had to find him before he went off the deep end and killed every one of them.
Racing as fast as her feet would take her, she saw Buffy, Angel and the new guy Mark in the distance. Not wanting to stop and explain, she decided the best course of action would be for them to join her, just in case she might need some physical muscle.
"Will, what's wrong?" Buffy called out as she approached.
"No time to explain. Just come on," she panted out as she sped up again.
The three followed in her wake.
Giles tapped his pencil on his desk nervously. Clarisse Clairbourne had just informed him that Roger Wyndam-Pryce wanted to speak with him. He didn't want to deal with the ponce at all, but the man still had some influence on the Council. As a matter of fact, he was coming to his office right then. Not much notice. He would have to inform his fellow Council member that his schedule wouldn't allow for such meetings on short notice. Not that it would matter to Clarisse.
He knew that the man was angry from being forced to retire. But it was for the best. Wesley had been completely right in his assessment that they needed a change in the Council and its methods. The changing world had called for that long ago. But the Council stuck with its outdated methods, which probably resulted in the fact that they were all but eliminated a little less than two years prior.
Giles wanted a clean slate. There were still a few members alive, but Giles had insisted that they retire, with full benefits. Most had taken that chance because they were much too old to start over. New blood was needed for that radical of a change. The Council that had formed most recently for the most part were smart, sensible people. People who were at the top of their professions. With his guidance, they would be successful. Once they started working as a cohesive unit, that is.
Giles stopped the tapping, turning the pencil back and forth. He wasn't sure why on earth his attention was on the pencil and nothing else. Snapping it in two pieces, he let them fall to the desk with a soft clatter.
"Oh dear God," he whispered as he staggered out of his chair. Why hadn't he seen this coming?
Wrenching his office door open, he caught sight of Willow running fast down the corridor. So she felt it too, he thought. He took off after her.
Spike had drifted off to sleep in the chair that he had deposited himself in after his little conversation with Angel. He hadn't wanted to move any more than he had to, so he just stayed and got comfortable. Sleeping during the day was a little safer. His dreams weren't as vivid and horrid. Sometimes they were even quite pleasant, if he could control how they turned out. But most of the time he couldn't.
The dreams took him under so deep sometimes, he wondered if he would wake up. Not that he cared one bit. He'd lived too many nightmares in his long life. As he walked through a forest in this dream, he realized that he had done this before. Was it in a dream or reality?
It was dark and quite foggy. The only sound came from the fallen leaves as they crunched under his boots. The trees all around him were old and gnarled, like they had been there for centuries. Where had he seen this before?
He slowly approached one of the larger trees, just to see if he could climb it and get the layout of the land. But as he walked up to it, something dark came bursting out, making him fall to his knees in pain.
"Protect," a voice whispered. "You must protect it."
"I don't understand," he said through the pain.
"From beneath you, it devours."
Oh shit bloody fucking hell, no. Not the First again. It couldn't be. The Hellmouth was sealed. He went poof, burning to a fiery death to do that. As he raised his head just slightly, he saw a patch of blue against the darkness. Lowering his head to the cool ground, he rocked back and forth, trying to gain some strength to get the hell out of there. Only when he raised his head again, he was thoroughly shocked at the vision before him. He must be seeing things.
"You are my warrior," Illyria spoke to him, decked out in the familiar blue and her leather get-up, still sporting Fred's face, Fred's body. "Protect what is left unguarded."
She touched his face, sending fire traveling down through his head to his very toes.
Fred screamed. One of those full out, in pain, I am scared to death screams. The fire that burned her probably would have caused serious harm if she weren't already dead. Gasping for air, she crawled over to a corner, to hide from whatever Spike had just experienced. The shakes that had overtaken her wouldn't stop. Spike had been touched by something not of this world. Why did it affect her?
Tears spilled out unchecked. Curling herself into a ball, she tried to wait out the pain, but it wouldn't go away.
"Wake up, Spike. Wake up, Spike," she asked of him, hoping that would solve both of their problems.
"Please, please, please," she now begged, wanting to end the agony she was going through.
Another gut-wrenching scream accompanied Spike finally getting the clue and waking up. The pain ceased for her and for Spike. Sobbing, she laid her head down on the cool wood floor, trying to catch her breath.
That wasn't supposed to happen, her fogged brain thought. She wasn't connected to him physically, only to watch and help. What had changed? Slowly, she rose on shaky legs. Using the furniture as a crutch, she made her way over to the screen to view what Spike was up to now. He sat in the chair he had fallen asleep in, rubbing his head vigorously. She wished she could be in front of him, to comfort him, assure him that whatever had just happened, that she would be there for him. But she couldn't. He was awake.
Closing her eyes, she walked forward and disappeared from the room where she just been standing. Spike couldn't see her. She just wanted to check out for herself first hand that he was all right. The tear that escaped and was quickly rubbed away made her heart break. He was barely holding on to his sanity. She needed to figure out what was wrong with him.
She put her hand over her mouth, like he would hear her small cry of frustration, holding in her emotions. His head tilted up and looked directly her way.
"Fred?" he croaked out.
"Oh damn," she gasped. Spike can see me.
Who in the hell was babbling, Faith thought as she clasped her head between her hands? It really was making her roaring headache much worse. Pulling her hands to the front of her face, she saw the blood that she thought might be there. She must have hit the wall really hard.
Raising her head, she caught the sight of Wesley on the opposite wall, arms wrapped around his folded legs. He rocked back and forth, mumbling to himself incoherently.
"Wes?" she called out to him.
She knew she hadn't been out for more than a minute, but the back of her head still hurt like a son of a bitch. Slowly, she crawled over to him, but not touching.
"Wesley," she called out gently to him.
She could make out a few words here and there. It sounded like he wanted someone to stop doing something to him, but she wasn't sure. Taking a chance, she reached out her hand to touch his arm, hoping that it was safe for her to do so. She laid one finger lightly just to test whether it was safe. Ending up being slammed again wasn't on her to do list. But she had to get through to him, to make sure he wasn't a danger to her or himself.
Nothing happened, so she took another chance and wrapped her hand around his arm, just to get his attention.
"Wesley, talk to me," she begged him.
His skin was so cold to the touch that she just wanted to gather him up in her arms. As she kneeled beside him, she tried to figure out just why they ended up on opposite sides of the corridor, her sporting a nice, new slice to the head, and him shaking like a leaf.
"Faith, don't touch him," Willow yelled from the other end of the corridor.
Nothing happened this time, so what was her beef, Faith thought?
"Wes. Come on. Snap out of it. We need you here."
She had to get through to him. So instead of listening to Willow, she wrapped her arms around him. Big mistake, she thought. Should have listened to the witch.
How could he have lived with all of this for so long, went through her brain? She saw every bad thing that had ever happened to him, in surround sound, which made it all that more real. He was berated by his father, locked under the stairs, never held, never told he had done a good job. She saw flashes of the cruelty that he had endured as a child, as a teenager. She felt all his insecurities, all his doubts, all his pain. Sunnydale was just a fast blur, other than the rage that he felt at being dismissed from the Council. His sense of belonging was shattered by Angel, then his other friends in such a short time, she wondered how he didn't end it all after his throat had been slashed. He was so lonely, so ridden with guilt over losing Connor, disappointing Angel. Did he know, did Angel know? With his memories of Connor erased, his mind eased somewhat, only to be overwhelmed with Fred's death. Then Illyria, Angel's betrayal, the battle, Vail stabbing him, she could feel it all.
"Faith, let go," Giles implored her to do, but she couldn't.
Angel reached down to pull them apart, but Giles stopped him.
"Faith. It's the magicks. He's on overload. Just let go," Willow cried.
Faith was finally able to pry her arms from around Wes. "Oh, fuckin' A," she muttered as she crumbled to the ground, sinking into oblivion.
Willow wished that Faith could have listened to her. She was feeling the effects too, stomach rolling at the dark magicks floating in the corridor.
"It's dissipating. How's Faith?"
Buffy was leaning over the other slayer, checking her vitals. "Got a big gash on the back of her head."
Mark came running with several napkins from the conference room. "Here. Let me help."
Wesley was still totally incoherent, but calm now. What was happening to him? Not exactly the same thing that had happened to her, that was for sure. He wasn't in control at the moment.
"Giles? What's going on?" she asked the older man, trying to make sense of what she was feeling.
"The way he was brought back. The mage used dark magicks to accomplish his goal. It wasn't until after Wesley had performed the spell to bring back Faith's slayer abilities that I figured out that probably wasn't the best course of action."
"What?" Angel yelled. "You said it was fine."
"Not fine, not fine. Let it go," Wesley muttered to himself.
"I thought it was. Until I did a little more research. It was ages before Willow could perform a spell and not turn dark again. I didn't give it enough time."
"Damn it, Giles. You of all people should know," Willow cried.
"Listen, guys. We need to get Faith to a doctor. She's gonna need stitches."
Angel knelt in front of Wesley, not touching him.
"Don't touch him," Willow warned, not wanting someone else to go through what Faith had gone through.
Yes, it had taken her a lot of time to be able to control her abilities, months as a matter of fact. Only with Giles and the coven's help was she able to channel her energies to do good.
"We have to move him," Angel announced.
"I can do it," Faith croaked out, struggling to sit up from the hard ground.
Mark and Buffy helped her up, holding on both sides to make sure she didn't crumble again.
"You cannot, Faith. You don't have the strength," Giles told her.
"You don't want to touch him, Giles. None of you want to touch him. I've seen it. He won't hurt me."
Faith shrugged off her two helpers. Willow so didn't want Wesley to go through what she did. Pure rage and grief had triggered her slide into the dark side. What had triggered his?
"Giles?" Willow started.
"I know. A million questions. Most of which I don't have the slightest clue how to answer. We will need to isolate him."
"Giles, maybe I can touch him, help ground him."
"No. Do not touch him, Willow," he demanded.
"She won't touch him, Giles," Buffy told him, coming up beside Willow.
Faith bent down to Wesley's level, trying to coax him into standing. "Wes, why don't we find a nice, quiet room."
"Don't put me under the stairs."
"Oh God," Angel gasped.
"You know what he's talking about?" Faith asked.
"His father used to do it to him when he was a child."
Willow's parents may have been ambivalent about her, but they never treated her cruelly. She couldn't fathom why someone would treat his own child this way.
"Giles, he's here. Wes's father. Find him. Get him the hell out of here. He triggered this, somehow. I could feel it building as Wes was talking to him," Faith explained.
Mark volunteered. "Don't worry. I'll find him."
Buffy nodded her thanks as Mark made his way back towards Giles's office. "Back to the townhouse?" she suggested.
"For now. At least until he is coherent enough to travel," Giles told everyone.
"Wes, hon. Take my hand," Faith implored him to do.
His hand came away from his legs slightly, giving Faith the opportunity to grab it. She slowly helped him to his feet, supporting most of his weight until he was steady on his feet. He was still muttering to himself though.
"Don't take the baby, Justine. Don't take Connor," Wesley said under his breath.
Willow saw the lines of anguish on Angel's face as Faith passed him with Wesley. "Who's Connor?" she asked.
By the time Faith led Wesley to his room in the townhouse, she was shaking inside and out. She relived all those horrible moments with Wes from just touching him. He was lost in his own mind now, not able to pull out of the nightmares. Gently helping him into the bed, she tucked the covers around him, sighing as she finished.
"Faith? I'll stay with him," Angel announced from the doorway.
"Just for a minute. I have to go throw up now," she calmly told Angel.
Silently stepping into the bathroom, she shut the door and proceeded to empty her stomach of its contents. Rinsing and wiping her tear-streaked face, she looked at herself in the mirror. To see, to feel exactly how Wes felt as she sliced him up was too much. She didn't know if she had it in her to go back into the bedroom and help him. Balling up her fist, she slammed it into the mirror, shattering it into pieces. The act somehow calmed her, making her focus on her pain instead of his. Rinsing the blood off, she wrapped her knuckles in a towel and went back into the room to help Wes.
"I can see you. I'm still sleeping," Spike announced.
"Yeah, that's it. You're sleeping. Just lie back down," Fred told him as she started to back away.
"But you know, I can't seem to wake myself up. Strangest thing."
Spike got up and came towards her. She passed through a chair as she backed away from him. He stopped short when he saw what she had done.
"Whoever is playin' with my mind, get out, damn you. I know what you're trying to do. It won't work. It didn't before."
"No, you're right. It didn't work, Spike. So I'll just be going," Fred replied.
"Why are you here? Is this somebody's idea of a sick joke? Scare the vampire with a ghost of someone whose soul has been destroyed."
Well damn, he had her there on that one. He thought she was still floating in the ether of nothingness. Thank the Lord she wasn't there anymore.
"Not a sick joke, Spike. Just believe me."
"Whoever you are, the First, the bloody law firm, whoever. I'm not fallin' for it this time."
Spike reached out and passed his hand through her. It sent shivers down her spine to feel his corporeal hand go straight through her.
"You're a ghost," he gasped. "I felt the cold. You're not Fred. Change back, change back."
She was Fred. What was his deal? Was he further gone than she thought?
"Spike," she started out softly. "You're right. I'm a ghost. But I'm really Fred. I won't hurt you."
"You already have. You died. I saw, he saw you die."
He must be referring to Wesley, she thought. Would Wes be like this if she appeared before him? Maybe his logical mind would be able to understand this much better than Spike would.
"I did. I'm not sure how to convince you it's me. I'm here for you."
"Did she put you up to this? I can't believe that Illyria would do this."
Fred almost growled when she heard that name. The name of the thing that spread her soul into the ether. The thing that took over her body, hardening it into a shell for her to reside.
"She's gone. Remember?"
Should she tell him that's what made this possible? That by Illyria dying, she had been able to rest in peace as she should? Fred didn't think that Spike would believe her.
"I remember," he stated with a bit of sorrow in his voice. "She saved us, you know. She wasn't what you thought she was. She never chose to come back, to hurt you."
So either Spike was using her for catharsis, or he started believing her story just a little bit.
"But she did hurt me. And now . . . ," Fred stated.
"You're dead. I know. I'm not jumping over the edge just yet. Maybe I am, seeing you and all. Maybe that's what this means. I've lost my bloody mind. I thought I had after my soul was put back. Now it's really happenin'," Spike laughed.
"Oh, crap. Crap, crap, crap," Cordelia yelled.
"What happened now? Lindsey screw up someone's life again?" Doyle asked.
"No. Fred. I cannot believe this."
Doyle shook his head like he didn't know what on earth she was talking about.
"She just decided to reveal herself to Spike, while he was awake."
"Oops," Doyle sympathized. "Must have had a good reason."
"We're in trouble. Why do people put me in charge?"
"Hey, higher being kinda makes you the boss around here. I just work here."
Cordelia sighed, thinking about what she could do next. "We'll just call Fred back. No harm done."
"Yep. No harm done other than Spike now believin' that Fred is a ghost, which she sort of is. No one will believe him since he's been actin' strange, which might drive him further around the bend."
"OK, OK. I get it. We should let Fred handle it. Oh God, what are we gonna do if he tells Wes?"
"Man's got problems of his own," Lindsey announced as he walked into the room.
"Now what?"
"I'm on the job. Apparently Book Guy is totally freaked. Black magicks that Vail stirred up are flying around like crazy. They want me to go in to try and fix the problem."
"You?" Doyle asked, astonished.
"My job. The hard cases."
"Didn't the person on your last case commit suicide?" Doyle wanted to know.
"Yes. Unfortunately it was supposed to happen. As I told you, not a pretty job."
Cordelia was scared. Scared for Fred, for Wes, for everything that had happened.
"What happened to Wes?" Cordelia asked Lindsey.
"I'm not sure. Seems that he had some kind of argument with his father, made the magicks surface. He's practically catatonic right now. Faith brought him back a little bit, but not enough. He almost killed her when she tried to help the first time."
"See if they can help him?" Cordelia wondered.
"Not happening, according to the Powers. If something doesn't change for him, the whole situation could blow up."
"Blow up as in he will, or blow up as in apocalypse blow up?" Doyle asked.
"Sort of a given, Doyle," Cordelia answered for Lindsey. "Give it a shot. But if you harm one hair on his body, I'm not gonna be happy."
"And when Cordy's not happy," Doyle started.
"I'm going to hell," Lindsey finished for the Irishman.
TBC
Next: We go into Wesley's mind (oh man could that be scary). Fred's got crazy Spike to deal with, and Lindsey helps out Faith.
Author notes: You want dark, well, hold on to your hats. It's gonna be a rough ride in these next chapters. You knew that all the magicks used in the last fic was going to come back and bite them in the butt. It had to. You know, consequences, yada, yada, yada. I know you're all trying to piece together what is happening. Please bear with me. I'm sure some of you have already figured it out.
Thanks go out to Uberwicca, Kick A Woman Warrior, Illyria639, psychotic chaos, tp96, Doza, pari106, Imzadi, and all the others. I know, it's holiday time, so it's hard to keep up with our daily lives, much less read fics on the internet. I'll keep posting as much as I can though. Love to hear from you.
Answers to questions:
Uberwicca—I don't exactly know what I'm doing with Willow/Xander. I love unconventional pairings too. Dark enough for ya. It gets darker.
Kick A Woman Warrior—I know, not enough violence. I'm working up to it.
Illyria639—no breaks just yet.
Psychotic chaos—he's not gonna hit his father; I'm not sure he ever will.
Tp96—Angel and Wes still have a long way to go.
Doza—yeah, I thought chapter four was a bit slow also. I was setting some stuff up, which slows down the action a tad. By the way, thanks for the other reviews, really appreciated.
Pari106—I just thought it would be funny for Buffy of all people to be dating a nerd. Wes does care for Angel still
Imzadi—I'm not sure which way to take Lindsey and Fred. It could go either way. But Fred's still hurting, so I'm not pushing anything. It all depends on the Spike storyline too.