Chapter Six – Hell Is Oneself
What is hell?
Hell is oneself,
Hell is alone, the other figures in it
Merely projections.
--T.S. Eliot, The Cocktail Party
Wesley couldn't tell from one minute to the next where he was. One minute he was back at the Hyperion, working on a case, the next minute Vail was stabbing him in the gut, twisting the knife just so to do more damage to his internal organs. Then Faith would appear, stabbing him with a shard of glass until he bled everywhere. The pain wouldn't go away. It continued unabated, so he just endured, survived the best he could.
His father would come and visit sometimes, while Faith had him tied to the chair, while Justine slit his throat and left him to bleed to death, while Vail held him airborne, while Angel held the pillow over his face in the hospital. The ranting, the tirades, the lectures about how much he was disappointed in his only son continued, even though Wesley could feel the life drain out of his body.
Every once in a while, he would hear a voice. Faith was calling to him, telling him it will be all right. Angel, telling him to come back to him, that he needed his friend. Willow, telling him he could beat whatever hold this had on him. Even Giles telling him he was better than that, that the magicks couldn't hold him forever.
Black, oozing, vile liquid flowing all around him, in his veins, in his heart, taking over his mind, his body, his soul. It made him so cold, probably colder than Angel or Spike had ever been, save the time that they died after being drained by a vampire.
The only touch he felt was on his hand. Soft, warm, strong hands holding his. Shaking it, squeezing it, holding him together just enough for him not to slip away completely, forever.
The knife plunged in, the shot ripped through his abdomen, the teeth sunk in to his throat, trying to rip him to shreds.
"Don't go, Wes. I need you," the voice softly commanded.
Where would he go? He could hide under the stairs, in the dark, with the spiders and other unmentionables. Maybe that would drive the monsters away. But that was a punishment from his father, not a refuge from his mind's madness.
Faces, names, places flashed through his brain. Cordelia as a young woman, so full of life. Cordy as the woman worn down by visions that were killing her slowly. Fred, in Pylea, grateful to be saved from a hell dimension. Fred, dying in his arms, asking him why she couldn't stay. Doyle, someone he really didn't know, burning up to save Cordy and Angel and many other demons. All the people who died at Graduation, all the people that they didn't save in Los Angeles.
"My fault. All my fault," he whispered as his failures stacked up.
Faith, his messed up slayer, sliced him, tortured him to prove a point. Angel fired him from the only job he could ever do just because of an obsession with a woman. Cordy shut him out after he kidnapped Connor. Gunn was not his best friend and confidant anymore after Wes didn't tell him about the prophecy. Lorne hit on the head because he read Wesley as he was going to take the baby. Connor, back from a hell dimension so full of rage and hate, no one could get through to him. Cordy, evil to the core because of some demon called Jasmine. Lilah, oh Lilah. He tried to save her, only to chop her head off to prevent her from coming back as a vampire. He still couldn't save her from her contract. Fred, so beautiful and innocent, died in his arms because he couldn't figure out a way to stop Illyria. Illyria gained her humanity only after he was dying on that cold, stone floor of Vail's. Angel sent them on a suicide mission to take down evil. Fight the good fight and die trying.
"Not your fault," the voice called to him, warming his heart just slightly.
"Fight the good fight? What fight? Losing not one, but two slayers. Working for a vampire, employed by an evil law firm, getting yourself gutted by a two-bit sorcerer. You didn't fight. You let everyone else fight around you, for you. You good for nothing, useless, little being."
His father wouldn't stop shouting at him. He shouted back, for his father to stop, to be quiet, but it didn't work. He kept going on and on. Wesley just wished he had a knife of his own to take away the pain, to stop his father's ranting.
"Faith, you should rest," Angel implored her to do.
Faith had been sitting in the same seat, next to the bed, holding Wesley's hand for what seemed like days. He would twist and turn occasionally, but then go back into a trance-like state again. Just when she thought he was coming out of it, he'd plunge back into whatever madness had taken him over. She wasn't seeing exactly what was going on now, but she knew it must be bad. He had somehow shut her out of his mind, but she had gotten enough of a preview to know he must be in hell.
"I'm OK. Not moving," she tiredly told the vampire.
"I can sit. Just let me help," Angel begged her.
The look on his face, man, she just didn't know what to think anymore. He looked beaten. Angel never looked beaten, until after most of his friends had died. This being had seen way too many people in his life just die and he couldn't stop it. She knew exactly how he felt.
"I'm afraid to leave him," she whispered.
"I know you are. So am I."
Angel hadn't left the room either. Only he hadn't touched his best friend at all. Faith wouldn't let him.
"He can't die, Angel. I'm not gonna let it happen, you hear me."
Faith was determined to keep Wes alive just by sheer will. The others were off researching a method to bring Wes back to the land of the living. What she wanted to know is if they succeeded, would he be sane?
"Me either."
"He's so cold," she admitted.
"Yeah, I can tell. His heart has slowed down quite a bit."
Faith gulped. Angel didn't want to leave because he wanted to make sure that Wesley didn't stop breathing. Did he hold out any hope that they could reverse this?
"Do you think they can figure out a way to help him?"
"I don't know. But if you don't get some rest, you won't be any good to him."
Angel was right. She hadn't eaten anything since the morning. She could tell by the darkness against the curtains that it was late into the night. She had been sitting in the same position for a very long time.
"OK, quick break. That's all. I really need to go badly too. Just don't touch him."
Angel shook his head like he understood. Faith slowly untangled her hand with Wes's, laying it on the bed beside him. Standing up, she stretched her muscles, then proceeded to do what she said she had to do, slamming the door to the bathroom in the rush.
Angel sat down next to the bed, wondering just what his friend was going through. If it was anything like Cordy had experienced when Vocah had marked her, making her experience visions nonstop, then the man must be in a living nightmare. But he had Wesley to help bring her out of those nightmares. Now Wes was lying in a bed, reliving all the bad things that had happened to him. In his mind, Angel had reason to believe that he had caused the majority of those things to happen.
Angel wanted to take it allaway from him, to absorb all the pain and misery, even if he wasn't the cause. That was one of the reasons he had let Wesley join them in the first place. He could see, no actually sense the man needed a place to belong, a place where he had people who cared about him. And he was useful. He ended up being a good friend. Wes was the only friend to really get who and what Angel was and still want to be friends with him. Cordelia sometimes forgot what Angel was, what was inside of him. Wesley never forgot that, but he never used it against Angel either.
As he sat beside his friend, Wesley began thrashing again, just like he had a dozen times in the last few hours.
"Wes, it's OK. We're here," Angel responded.
He knew it was lame, but what else could he say. Could Wesley actually hear him? He hoped that some part of his brain could, so that he would know that there were people that cared about him.
Wesley's arms went up to shield his face from something. It was when Angel heard exactly what Wesley was saying that he had to act.
"I'm so sorry, Angel. I shouldn't have taken Connor. Kill me. Just kill me now."
Angel grabbed his arms to pull them back down before Wesley hurt himself. Faith had told him not to touch Wes. Well, she was right. Angel could feel the pillow pressing downover Wesley's face, could feel the breath leave him. He could feel the stitches ripping at his throat, the blood oozing out of the vicious wound. Wes wanted to take a breath, but couldn't. He could hear his voice telling Wesley that this was Angel, not Angelus, smothering him. That he was doing this because of what Wesley had done. He didn't want to hear any explanations. He just wanted Wesley to die, to suffer like he had when he saw Holtz take his son into that portal.
Wesley screamed at him to let go in his mind, but Angel just held on. He could see the darkness that was making its way around and through Wesley's body. It sang to his inner demon, making Angelus hum a little tune. If this went on too much longer, Angelus might get his chance to come out and play once again.
Angel tamped down on Angelus, screwing his eyes shut, concentrating on pushing it down until he was just a small voice under all the blackness. As Angel was attempting to quell his own demon, Wesley's hands came up and around his throat and squeezed. Since Angel didn't breathe, he couldn't really do much harm. It was uncomfortable, but he couldn't kill Angel this way, unless he had so much strength he could rip Angel's head off. Then he would turn to dust.
Angel clenched Wesley's arms with his hands, trying to pry him off and not hurt him in the process.
"You son of a bitch, you're gonna pay for what you did," Wesley shouted as Angel battled to regain some control over the situation.
Angel froze, letting Wesley take his pound of flesh and then some. It was the exact thing that he had told Wesley while his friend was in the hospital after nearly dying from having his throat slashed.
"Angel, let go," Faith yelled as she came back into the room.
"I can't. He won't let me."
Faith pried Wesley's hands from around his neck, all the time saying Wes's name like a chant to get his attention. Angel stumbled back as Faith managed to finally get Wesley's hands off.
"What were you doing?" Faith asked as she stopped his thrashing about on the bed with one touch.
"He was gonna hurt himself. I was just trying to help," Angel cried, leaning up against the wall.
Sliding down slowly, he buried his head in his hands.
"Wes. Angel was just trying to help. Just rest. Don't stress yourself."
Faith rambled on and on to Wesley, finally settling down again in her chair.
"Why you?" Angel finally asked after a time.
"Why me? I'm not following."
"He seems attached to you."
"Not sure. Not like I didn't hurt him too. I saw some of the stuff you did to him. Just know if I'd been around, I would have kicked your ass somethin' fierce. Don't think that when this is over with, I still won't do it."
"I'm sorry, Faith. This is all so messed up. I'm so sorry, Wesley. I'm so sorry."
"Anything?" Willow asked Giles.
Giles hung up the phone, still writing down something on a pad of paper.
"Maybe. According to Elizabeth at the coven, if we combine the grounding spell with the vanquishing spell, it might bring him some peace of mind."
"But he has to say it, Giles. I don't think he's gonna be much into reading a complicated spell, plus doing all that chanty stuff. We have to bring him out of the trance first."
"I know. I think I know of a way to do that."
Willow spread her arms wide, like she wanted Giles to spill yesterday. "Well?"
"If I were to go into his mind, I might be able to pull him back to reality just long enough for him to be grounded. But first, we need to get him out of here."
Giles started to pick up several volumes of books that he had been consulting.
"Can't do it here?"
"No. Just in case," Giles told her, not looking her in the eye.
"Oh, just in case he like blows up a couple of miles around him, kinda like I tried to do in the not so recent past."
"No blowing up," Xander replied from the doorway. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to stop Watcher Boy with the crayon speech."
Xander had brought her back. Could Giles bring Wesley back?
"I'm not sure the man ever had any crayons, Xan, much less had any fun whatsoever. If I see that father of his, I'm gonna kick him where the sun don't shine."
"Oh, violence. Now that'll get you nowhere fast."
"I'm just angry Willow right now. And we still haven't figured out what triggered the major meltdown."
"I'm not sure why we're helping in the first place," Xander wanted to know.
"Because, Xander. That's so not fair. He'd help you."
"Are you sure about that? He did work for that evil law firm."
Giles slammed a couple of the books down on the table to get their attention. "Now is not the time. Get Buffy, Xander. We'll take him to my place in the country. Please procure a van, preferably with no windows."
"I'm thinkin' that we're packin' up the whole kit and kaboodle?" Xander asked.
"I don't think Angel would appreciate being left behind."
"Yeah, and Spike's been acting way too weird for words. I found him asleep underneath a desk, clutching a pillow. Remind me never to hang out with Angel and his merry band of friends again. It's like one of those Stephen King novels. Too freaky," Xander pointed out.
"Ah, Miss Summers. If I could have a word with you," Clarisse called from down the corridor.
Buffy stood still, a little shocked. She didn't think that anyone was up at that hour. Having just left Mark to his research, she had been making her way back to the townhouse to see how Wesley was doing.
"I'm a little busy right now. If you take a number, I'll get back to you as soon as I can," Buffy quipped.
"Yes, I've read Mr. Giles's diaries. He said that your command of the English language is quite, shall we say, interesting."
"I think that Giles meant amusing, but what the heck. What do you want?"
"I was looking for Wesley. Have you seen him?"
"Nope. Not in a while. Probably out with Faith."
Clarisse sighed one of those that is so wrong sighs. Giles had done that to her plenty of times. Judging her, but not quite coming out and saying why he was judging her.
"I would really like to discuss with him his plans for the future."
"I'm thinkin' kicking some demon butt, followed by some light dusting is in his future."
"Watchers don't fight," Clarisse said emphatically.
"According to Angel, Wes has become the 'Rogue Demon Hunter' he professed to being. The man can kick some demon booty. So that's where the two of them are. Faith was itchin' to take out some of that slayer aggression."
Clarisse's eyebrows rose, like she didn't believe Buffy. Buffy really didn't care what the woman believed. Her thoughts were probably in the gutter regarding Wes and Faith anyway. Buffy wondered if she should go with the flow and push her a little further in that direction just to see where it led.
"So why aren't you out patrolling?"
"Um, maybe because I'm not the only one now. There's lots of little slayers running around. I do get a break occasionally."
"A slayer always has to be on her toes."
"Bullshit," Buffy retorted back. "Listen, Clarisse, is it? I'm alive today because of the people around me. My friends, my family, and their need to see me as something other than a machine with a stake in its hand."
"Attachments like that could get you killed. It could get your family and friends killed."
"Yes, I know all about that. Believe me, I do."
Buffy turned to leave, obviously wanting to end the conversation with the woman. It was really getting on her nerves that this so-called Council member would question her motivations.
"Faith, Wesley, they're nothing like you, are they? Not as dedicated to the cause."
Now here we go, Buffy thought. She's gonna try and turn this on them, get Buffy in her corner. What a sleazoid.
"Dedicated? Wesley died because he was so dedicated. Faith's come close way too many times to count. She was there, had my back when we took the First on. So you wanna talk about dedication, get in line. I don't see you dying for the cause any time soon."
Clarisse stepped forward, into Buffy's personal space. "Miss Summers, do you think you know me or pretend to know me?"
"Let me just put it to you straight. One, don't try that psychology shit on me, making me turn my back on my friends. Two, yeah, so Faith and Wes weren't my most favorite buddies back in Sunnydale. But I think they've proven to me and to all the others just how much they are valued."
"Faith and Wesley are loose cannons. Their methods cannot be tolerated."
Buffy winced as Clarisse started to spin her web. Time to squash the bug under the heel of her boot. She looked up into the older woman's eyes, a hint of challenge coming out.
"You just don't understand the group dynamic here, now do ya? Here I go again, trying to explain it to you. Wesley was my watcher. He was Faith's watcher. Giles is my watcher. He was Faith's watcher. Ergo, we are kinda connected in a way too screwy way. Which means, you insult my watcher, any version of my watcher, young or old, you insult me."
"Are you threatening me?" Clarisse asked with a shocked look on her face.
"Nah. But I will. Where do you get off?" Xander said as he walked forward.
Buffy wondered how long he had been standing in the shadows, just listening in on the conversation. He did that sometimes, watching, listening, waiting. He was so good at it, that she didn't notice him until she needed him.
"God, you know, I am sick and tired of your pompous asses screwing up everything just because you think you know it all. Get a grip, lady. You're messin' with the wrong people. Go back and hide under your polished desk."
Buffy could see that this was getting a rise out of Xander. Something that hadn't happened in a very long time. Not since Anya had died had he been this passionate about something. Even though he didn't necessarily feel comfortable working with Angel and his group again, he was defending them.
"Buffy?" a voice rang out in the distance.
"We have better things to do than to chat," Xander finished his tirade.
"Buffy?" Spike called to her again.
She could see his silhouette against the far wall, moonlight shining down. It used to be that his hair would practically glow from the paleness of it. Now with the dark, close shaved look, it made the vampire look quite a bit older, even though he was in his twenties when he was turned.
Buffy walked toward him, wondering why he had come to talk with her. It wasn't like he had sought her out. It must be important. Or maybe he just figured that he could catch her alone this late into the night. This time of night was usually reserved for the two of them so many years ago in Sunnydale. Or it seemed like so many years ago, when it wasn't all that long past.
"Hey, Spike. What's up?" she asked, trying to keep the tone light.
As Spike turned his head, she could see the faint, dark circles that were outlined on his moonlit face. He wasn't sleeping was her conclusion. Something must be bothering him if he looked like he did. Looking like he did when he lived in the basement of the high school.
"From beneath you, it devours," he announced, scaring her down to her toes.
"Fred?" Lindsey said quietly as he tiptoed into the cottage.
Fred stood in the middle of the room, hands over her mouth.
"You're back. How'd it go?"
"I, um, screwed it up royally, I guess." Fred wrapped her arms around her middle.
"Not possible."
Fred's eyes teared up and her mouth started to quiver. "He's, uh, lost his touch with reality. Something is wrong with him. I don't know how to reach him."
Lindsey thought it could get worse. Well, it just got worse. Not only was Wesley going down the tubes, Spike wasn't far behind. He really didn't want to tell her about her former boyfriend and his slide into insanity. She had enough to deal with in Spike. But he had to, before she found out another way.
"Fred. We'll figure this out. I just saw what's happening. Those Sunnydale people have good heads on their shoulders. They're gonna help."
"How? Like they care about Spike. Remember, not exactly best friends with the slayer and her buddies."
Fred was right, he realized. Spike had made enemies of those people at one point. They may still not trust him fully.
"Tell me about Spike. What's wrong with him?"
"He's lost his touch with reality. He kept sayin' somethin' about being devoured by somethin' that was gonna crawl up and eat him. From beneath you, it devours, I think."
"Shit," Lindsey let out with a sigh. "The First said that."
"That thing they were fightin' when Sunnydale went under. I thought Spike took it down. And that reminds me, weren't you the one who brought Spike back in the first place?"
Lindsey knew he was backed into a corner and had no other way out. Should he just tell her the truth or dance around it? She seemed pretty good at spotting a lie when needed. Oh, hell, he might as well.
"Wasn't me."
"What? You lying, cheating, no good, dirty, scoundrel, bastard."
Well, at least she had a way with words, he thought. If the worst she could say was bastard about him that was fine with him. He'd been called worse.
"I didn't bring him back, believe me. It wasn't like I didn't know it was gonna happen and that I wasn't gonna take advantage of it."
"Oh, so you're tellin' me that you knew about it, but didn't do it?"
"Yeah, exactly."
"Bullshit," she answered back, not believing him one bit.
She stepped closer to him, fists balled up at her sides. Since living and working with Angel all those years, he bet that she could put some power behind any punches she might throw his way. And he really didn't want to physically fight with her. He needed her help.
"Listen, I'm not gonna argue with you right now. We have another, much more seriously pressing problem. Your boyfriend is ready to go supernova and I don't have the first clue on how to fix it."
"Supernova? Boyfriend? Are you talkin' about Charles, because isn't he in Los Angeles?"
Fred looked at him funny, like he was the one losing it. Then it dawned on her to whom he was referring.
"Oh. Ohhh. Sorry. Slow on the uptake. And he's not my boyfriend, since hey, dead here."
Somehow that made Lindsey feel a little better. Maybe she was healing from that emotional roller coaster.
"Whatever dark magicks that Vail used to revive Wesley, well, they're coming back to literally bite him in the ass. He's going under and doesn't have a way to find a lifejacket."
"Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it," Fred stomped around the room, shouting at the top of her lungs. "This is all her fault. She so messed him up."
"I don't think this has anything to do with Faith."
"No, you dumbass. Illyria. She's the cause of this."
Lindsey didn't really see the connection. Illyria was gone now. Fred was restored. He would have thought that Fred would have been jealous of Faith, not some ex-demon god that went bye-bye when she died.
"Oh, fuck," Lindsey said slowly.
Why didn't he see it? They all had been so busy concentrating on the living, why hadn't anyone seen this outcome. Fred tapped her foot on the ground, waiting for an answer.
"Where'd Illyria go after she died?" Lindsey asked the former physicist.
TBC
Next: The gang get the hell out of dodge and try to help Wesley. Spike sinks deeper into whatever well he's going.
Author notes: Wow, and double wow. I really think it's so much easier to write angst. That first part just flowed. I know it is a little disjointed, but it is supposed to be that way. Kind of stream of consciousness. I really am beating up on Wes, Spike, Angel and Faith to a certain extent. I bet some of you have already figured out what is happening. Have any guesses? And it may not be what you think it is.
Thanks go out to I.B. Slackin', Illyria639, tp96, Doza, Imzadi, kaliflower, pari106, and everyone else who is following this.
Answers to questions:
I.B. Slackin'—hey, new reviewer, thanks. I always thought that Willow and Xander would be great together. Regarding the powerful magic users, it's always been hinted at on the show that Wes is more powerful than he thinks he can be. Cordy even told him that he has the best mojo in "You're Welcome". And how he handled revealing Lindsey to the Senior Partners by removing the tattoos made it seem like he was very strong in the magic department. If you haven't read the prequel to this, it is Guardian Angel. It may help explain some of the back story to the magic thing (not that any of us have the time to read that tome!).
Illyria639—Do the mirror thing. I'm sure it won't be the same. It will be dark, dark for a while.
Tp96—no Connor planned for now.
Doza—Thanks, I'll need that luck.
Imzadi—Just Doyle being Doyle. Lindsey still is proving himself. I think he's doing a good job though.
Kaliflower—hey, have you checked out "The Borogoves" by karabair? Lots of Wes/Father issues. I didn't see the link between Wes and Spike. Can you believe that? You are giving me ideas.
Pari106—Willow and Giles have delved into dark magicks before, so I thought they may be able to sense them now. Unfortunately, I happen to like crazyWes too. Probably has something to do with how well the actor pulled it off, remember "Time Bomb". Too freaky.