Chapter Five – How Sweet It Is
She asked him a simple question, so she expected a simple answer.
"Who's Connor?"
His eyebrows knitted together, pain etched completely all over his face.
"New guy or somethin'? Cuz Angel not in the sharing mode when he came to see me the last time."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
Faith had to think back it had been so long ago. Like a lifetime ago.
"Wicked long time. Over a year. Maybe more."
Wesley wouldn't look at her. He focused on the tea set before him. That must be why he and Giles always served tea. Gave them something to focus on when they didn't want to confront what they needed to confront.
"I've been gone for over nine months now. Connor was born four month before that."
"Born? What the fuck has been going on with you people? Babies now?"
"It's hard to explain."
"Doesn't look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon."
That gesture Wesley did right after she told him about the redhead slicing his throat happened again. He grabbed the scar like it would tell him something. Like it was a comfort. Like it made him remember something every time he touched it. How many times had she touched the scar on her stomach?
So Faith propped her feet up on the couch and turned toward Wesley to get the whole story. No wonder Angel had been holding out on her. Must be juicy.
"Connor is, um, Angel's son."
"Oh, shit. Not possible. Doesn't happen."
"It did. Don't interrupt," he asked without much venom in his voice.
He probably just wanted to get the whole story out in one breath, if he took any breaths. He looked like he was holding it for some reason.
"He had a son, with Darla."
"Doubly not possible," she chimed in, knowing exactly who she was.
"Unfortunately, it was possible. The child turned out to be human. Darla staked herself for the child to be born. We took care of him. Loved him like our own. Only there was a prophecy.
"Fuckin' prophecies," Faith mumbled under her breath.
"My sentiments exactly. The prophecy stated that the father will kill the son. All the signs were there. It's just that . . . ," Wesley stopped his story in mid-thought.
"It's just what, Wes?" she said to him softly.
"It was false. I'd been played. Some transdimensional demon falsified the prophecy. Angel was never in any danger of killing Connor."
"OK, tie it up in a neat little bow for me. What does all of that have to do with the wicked scar on your neck?"
"Since I believed the prophecy to be true, I was going to take Connor away."
"You were gonna run. To protect him and Angel," Faith put simply.
No wonder the guy was thoroughly messed up. Something must have gone wrong, she thought. It took time for Wesley to actually open his mouth again. Just as he was about to, the electricity chose to go out. It was pitch black.
Faith could feel Wesley tense up even more right beside her. She could see a little bit because of her supernatural seeing abilities in the dark.
"Candle?" she asked, touching his arm.
Wesley flinched from the contact. Faith held on, not wanting him to freak out even more.
"Um, there's one on the mantel. Matches too. I'll . . . ," he said as he started to get up.
"Nope. You're blind. I can do it."
Faith stubbed her toe on the coffee table, but finally reached the fireplace and took the candle and matches down. Lighting it, she turned it towards Wesley, who sat very still on the couch. His body relaxed somewhat when he finally was able to see. His eyes were big and round, like he was scared of the dark. She remembered what it was like to be scared of the dark so many years ago, before she was a slayer.
"We should have enough firewood until the morning."
Wesley got up to start a fire. Placing kindling and paper into the fireplace, he lit another match and started the paper on fire. Once he got that going, he picked up a large piece of wood, grimacing as he did so.
"No heavy lifting," she told him as she took the piece away from him.
"Yes, doctor."
Faith gingerly placed it on top of the now roaring fire. Wesley poked it for a while, getting his primal urges taken care of by tending to the fire. Faith had burned things before, but never to keep warm. That's what shelters or other guy's apartments were for when she was younger.
"We should get some sleep," Wesley finally spoke up when neither one of them wanted to continue the story.
Faith would get him to open up just a little more in the morning. She really wanted to know Angel's reaction to the baby kidnapping. It probably wasn't good, she concluded. Wesley had squirreled himself away from everyone, so Angel must have kicked his ass out. So much for everyone having redeeming qualities.
"Yeah," she quietly told him, rising from the couch.
She looked back at him as she opened the door to her room. He sat on the couch still, staring off into the flames. He'd sleep by the fire. The look on his face was unmistakable. The dark frightened him. Man, her watcher was really fucked up if he couldn't stand to be in the dark.
The next morning, it was still snowing big flakes as Wesley opened his eyes. He had curled up on the couch for a time, trying to get warm. Keeping the fire going was a priority, especially if the electricity was going to be out for a longer period of time. It had only gone out once since he'd lived in the cabin, and that was only for one night. With the snow, it might take days or weeks to repair whatever lines might be down.
Sighing, he gingerly arose from the couch, clutching his ribs until he was upright. Placing another log on the fire, he started the kettle on the stove. He stood there, watching the kettle, waiting for it to boil.
"Still snowing?" Faith said from behind him.
He had heard her before she had reached the kitchen. His senses weren't totally dead from disuse. He could smell her familiar scent anywhere now.
"Yes, it is. Would you like some tea?"
"Yeah. That'd be great," she said as she sat down at the table.
He still hadn't turned around to look directly at her. He felt he had said enough last night about what he had done. The way she seemed to take the news wasn't pleasant for him. He just wanted her to leave as soon as possible.
"Listen, um, I just wanted . . . ," Faith started.
"Stop. No more questions. You are here for my help. Not my life story."
"All I was gonna say is I'm sorry for all that's happened. You didn't deserve all that shit happenin'. Just sometimes you try to do the right thing and it doesn't work out. Fuck, I should know that first hand."
Wesley slammed his hands down onto the counter, hearing Faith jump at his actions.
"You were trying to do the right thing? When?"
"I, um, tried to be a good slayer. I didn't know how."
"For which I helped you bugger up immensely."
"That's it. No more I'm the fuck up dude from you."
Faith spun him around. Her hair was tangled on her head, the blanket she had wrapped around her half off, and the look on her face incredulous. He could feel the heat of her hand through his shirt.
"Faith, unhand me," he demanded.
"What? Don't like me touchin' you? I'm not gonna bite. I swear. I know I have a lot to make up for. Just give me a chance here."
Angel had given her a chance. And she had finally done the right thing, which was going to jail. Why couldn't he give her that chance? She'd done just as many terrible things to Angel as she'd done to him. But she still hadn't let him go like he'd asked.
Faith relaxed her grip on his arm, gently moving it up and down to sooth him.
"It's just been so long. I'm not used to having someone here. And why am I telling you this?" he replied to her, revealing too much of himself yet again.
The kettle decided to finally boil, saving him from looking down at her any longer. The deep brown of her eyes was still searching his face when he turned away from her.
"Maybe because we're more alike than you'd like to admit. Prison's not exactly a place where they give you hugs every day."
Wesley's hands shook as he prepared the tea for the two of them. Faith started to rummage around in his cupboards, pulling out this and that, until she found some cereal to her liking.
"No big. I won't touch you again. Don't want you freakin' out on me."
"Thank you," he managed to get out.
Was he grateful that she had respected his wishes or that she wouldn't touch him again? He did have to admit to himself that her touches weren't all that unpleasant, just startling at first.
"So, what? Are we researchin' or something today?"
"Something like that," he answered, sipping his now cooling tea.
The cabin had gotten considerably colder, since there weren't any larger logs left to place on the fire. He would have to do some work outdoors so they wouldn't freeze to death.
"Hey, breakfast?" she asked as he put his cup down to go get dressed warmly.
"I'm fine."
"Ha. You're so skinny. You need some fat on those bones of yours."
Both Cordelia and Gunn had tried to fatten him up, but it never worked. He would survive not eating breakfast, just like he had for years. Angel had fixed them breakfast too many times to count. He still couldn't look at eggs the same way.
"Later," was his short reply.
"Now," Faith demanded.
She thrust the cereal box in his hands. Taking a bowl out, he poured a small amount into it and started to eat.
"Dry? In the immortal words of Buffy, I say eww."
Wesley shook his head a little in amusement, feeling that the tone at least was a little lighter now. Putting the bowl down, he made his way to his bedroom and pulled out some work clothes. It was tricky at first since the ribs protested when he lifted his arms to work the sweater over his head, but he managed. He still wasn't quite sure how he was to chop any decent piece of wood though. Bringing his boots with him, he sat down on the couch with a soft thud. Faith was nowhere to be seen. Picking up his coat, he opened the door to the white world outside.
Wesley was blinded a moment from the intensity of the snow on the ground. Since the cabin sat up quite a bit from the ground, the snow didn't reach the door. But it would soon enough if it kept up the precipitating the way it did. Even with the cap and gloves, he was still invariably cold. A nice, long hot shower would be in the works after his chores were completed. He found his axe on the porch where he had left it the last time he had chopped wood. He just hoped he could dig enough wood out of the pile to be able to chop some of it.
"What do you think you're doing?" Faith called from the door.
"Close the door. You're letting what little heat we have left outside."
Faith slammed the door behind her.
"I asked you a question."
"And I don't necessarily have to provide you with an answer. But if you must know, I need to chop some firewood. Almost out if you haven't noticed."
"Gimme," Faith gestured with her fingers.
"Excuse me?" Wesley indignantly replied.
"You can't chop wood in your condition. It'll hurt like hell. What are you, stupid or something?"
Wesley didn't mean to growl at her, but it came out anyway. She backed off a little, but still held her hand out for the axe.
"Have you ever chopped wood before?"
"Nah. Can't be hard. Not like it's rocket science or something. Just give me the damn axe."
The last statement Faith said was a little forceful, like she was getting quite annoyed with him. Good for him. He liked to try and annoy her at least once a day. He turned the blade around and handed the axe handle side to her. Didn't want her to think that he wanted to injure her in any way.
"Since you're all so ready to slay some wood, let me show you where the pile is."
Then Wesley saw how she was dressed. She'd freeze outside in no time at all. Shucking his coat, he handed that to her also. It swallowed her up as she placed it around her shoulders.
"Thanks," she murmured as she started to follow him off the porch.
And he was right. The wood pile was buried, but not so much where they would have to dig too far to get to the wood.
"Hey, didn't I tell you no lifting?" she chided him.
"You have never done this. I was just trying to show you," he spit out. "Fine, do it your way."
Faith, no gloves of course, started pulling out logs from the pile. Quickly her hands turned red from the cold snow. Finally, he'd had enough, so he yanked off his gloves and shoved them in her face.
"Before you possibly get frostbite, take these," he ground out.
"Thanks, Princess Margaret."
She put them on with two quick tugs. They were obviously way too big on her small hands. She even waved them in his face to show him that.
"Man, you must have big hands," she remarked as she lined up the logs to be split. "You know what they say about big hands," she kept going, eyes pointing downward.
Thank goodness his cheeks were pink from the cold. His blush wouldn't show. And he thought he was immune now to her sexual innuendos. He had been around Gunn and the rest of them long enough to get the joke.
"Big heart," he drawled right back, smirking a little.
"You have changed," she smiled back with the axe now in hand. "OK, what do I do? Just hit the thing in the middle?"
Wesley set it all up for her. Ripping the coat off and throwing it at him, she made quick work of the wood she had piled next to her. It would have taken him twice the amount of time to split all that wood. But with one swing, she had the wood split into two pieces.
"You're a natural," he quipped.
She smiled in return. "You just like these slayer muscles. Makes short work of a task like this. Got any more uses for them?"
"Not at the moment," he quickly retorted.
The woman was certainly on a roll with the jibes. She loaded her arms down with as much wood as he could carry in two trips and followed him into the cabin. It took her a few trips to make it back with all the wood she split. As she stacked the last of it, she turned with her hands on her hips.
"There. See? Not totally useless."
"We need more. If it keeps snowing like that, the whole pile will be buried. It will be hard to dig out wood to chop."
He knew he was pushing her buttons. The scowl that he received in return was exactly what he was expecting.
"Why didn't you say we needed more? I'm all warmed up now, inside here."
He sighed in resignation. "Because I couldn't see how much you had accomplished until you had brought in the first load."
"Yeah, right. You just want me to be your pack horse. Bastard."
Faith stomped outside once again, putting even more vigor into her chopping skills. By the time she was done, they had enough wood for the next three days. It all wouldn't fit inside, so he had her pile it by the door on the porch.
"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" he asked her, probably too smug by the reaction he got next.
"Fuck you, dickwad," she threw back at him.
"You're welcome," he answered in return.
"I'm gonna sit out here and cool off."
He could see that she had her fists tightly held by her side. He had pushed her fairly hard. Which meant her training was woefully inadequate. Although she didn't seem winded, she hadn't taken orders from anyone but prison guards in a long time. Being on the outside and trying to hold yourself together must be a great strain on her, he thought. There wasn't any structure in real life unless one created that.
"Fine," he said as he silently closed the door.
Stoking the fire, he rearranged the logs somewhat before Faith came in and caught him lifting too much. She was turning into a mother hen, which he hadn't expected. By the time everything was to his liking, an hour had passed. Faith still hadn't come in out of the cold. As he peeked outside, the clouds were becoming increasingly darker as the day wore on. Those fat, fluffy flakes could turn into a blizzard. He surely didn't want to be trapped any longer than he had to with Faith, without electricity, no way to get out.
When he looked out of the cabin door window, he couldn't see Faith sitting on the porch steps like he did not twenty minutes ago when he had last checked on her. Where could she have gotten herself off to in this weather? Off in the distance, he got his answer. And it wasn't a good one, indeed.
Racing out of the front door, Wesley yelled at Faith to stop and not move. She curiously looked up at him, bending down to pick something up off the ground where she stood.
"Faith, it's not stable. Come this way slowly," he yelled at her.
"What's not stable?" she asked as he came closer.
"The ice. It's not stable. Not frozen through. Don't move."
"What the fuck? I'll just move slowly."
A crack was heard off to the right as she moved her foot an inch.
"Oh dear," he mumbled. "Stay right there. I'm going to get a rope, just in case. I implore you to not move."
The look of fear in her eyes was clear. She would listen, for now. "Here, catch."
Faith threw whatever she had picked up off the ice. As he caught it midair, he realized that it squirmed a little. It was a warm bundle.
"A cat," he whispered.
The foolish woman risked her life for a kitten. Will wonders ever cease to amaze him? Faith was a softie after all?
"Hurry up," she shouted as the ice cracked again.
Running for the cabin, he yanked the door open and literally dove into the closet, pulling out the rope he had placed in there the week before. He was glad he hadn't just thrown it away. Hoping it would hold, although it was frayed in places, he picked it up. The kitten was deposited unceremoniously on the floor when he had raced into the cabin. It was now exploring the interior with gusto.
Running for the lake, Wesley came to a skidding halt at what he thought was the edge. He could see where one could tie up a boat at the edge, so he looped the rope around the post before throwing Faith the other end.
"Take that and tie it around your waist," he commanded.
She was shivering. It had turned colder and the snow was falling faster. That blizzard that he had predicted was coming in full force. He could see that she had taken off the gloves that he had loaned her, which made it that much harder for her cold hands to tie the rope.
"Walk slowly towards me," Wesley told her as he held the rope tight.
"Fucking snow. I knew there was a reason why I hated it. That's why I hated Boston. Too much snow," Faith muttered to herself.
Unfortunately she had gone quite far out onto the ice. If she had stayed closer to shore, it was frozen solid. There just hadn't been enough cold days to freeze the middle solid. Another crack formed right in front of Faith as she slowly slid her feet across the ice. Then behind her, he saw another large crack forming. If the two met, she would tumble into the frigid water.
"Faster," he egged her on, only she still moved too slowly. "Now, Faith. Go."
The two cracks met just like he had predicted and a hole formed right under Faith's feet, instantaneously crumbling the thin ice into the depths of the lake, taking Faith down underneath the icy water. All he heard was a faint cry as she went under. As quickly as he could manage, he slid and stepped his way as far out as he could. Tugging on the rope, he inched it up. It was fraying a bit more, he noticed. Faith appeared at the ice's edge finally, sputtering water as she emerged.
All she could do was let out a muffled scream before she slid back into the depths of the cold water. Her hands couldn't find any holds to grab. If he didn't get her out soon, she'd die of hypothermia. Wrapping the rope around his waist, he nudged further out onto the ice until he was almost to the hole. Getting down on all fours, he crept out until he could put his hands into the hole. A hand came out and grabbed on, pulling him forward until half of his body went in.
The shock of the cold almost did him in, but he wouldn't let it defeat him. Faith's hands were circled around his tightly as he wrenched himself out of the hole. Faith emerged moments later, coughing up water. Her face and hands were blue, which meant he didn't have much time to get her out of the water and inside. And the ice around him was cracking a bit more. Pulling on her, he finally managed to get her out of the hole. Slowly he dragged her along the ice until he felt safe enough to stand. His knees almost gave out at the effort. He had only been in the water for a few seconds at the most and was affected. Faith had been in there at least a minute.
Her glazed eyes looked up at his as he gingerly picked her up. His ribs protested, but he ignored the pain for the moment. He'd pay for it later, but that didn't matter right then. Faith would surely die if he didn't get her inside and warm.
It seemed to take forever to reach the front door of the cabin. Slamming it open, Wesley carried the now comatose Faith inside to the heat. His skin prickled at the intense heat that he felt as he walked in the door. He kept thinking of the time she had spent underwater. Pushing the door to, he quickly carried her to the bathroom. Setting her on the floor, he yanked her boots off. He proceeded to strip her of everything but her underwear. Turning on the faucet of the bath, he made it tepid. To her it will probably seem like scalding. The bluish tinge to her skin worried him. And the fact that she wasn't awake and shivering. At least she was breathing, he saw.
The shivering he was expecting from her happened to him. As his body became warmer in places, in others it was frigid to the touch. So he stripped down too, to his boxers. Picking Faith up again, Wesley climbed into the water. It hurt at first, but it would help her. Then she started to thrash about, sloshing water over the edge.
"Fuck," she said with obvious pain.
So she started to fight him, kicking and screaming while he tried to hold her down. She jabbed his ribs a couple of times, but gradually the fight left her and she settled down against him. The blue tinge slowly disappeared. Pouring water over her head, he heard her sputter finally. Having her back resting against him, he couldn't tell whether she was awake or not.
"What the fuck happened?" she finally gasped out. "I'm so cold."
"You fell in the lake."
"What lake? All I saw was snow."
"It's there. The snow and ice cover it in the winter."
"Oh, damn. I could have died. Did you get the cat?"
Did he get the cat? In the same sentence as she could have died. It was lucky that he noticed she was in dangerous territory.
"Yes, I got the damn cat," he prefaced with a growl at the end.
"Good," she sighed, laying her head over his heart. "Probably need to apologize for that one."
"I don't think that it's necessary. You had no way of knowing. There aren't any warnings posted."
As he looked down at Faith, he noticed her face was all pink and clean of any makeup, which made her look quite young and vulnerable. It emphasized her brown eyes even more, especially when they were mere inches from his own.
"Still I'm sorry. Thanks for saving my sorry ass."
He didn't know whether to say you're welcome and let it drop or lecture her about saving defenseless creatures from certain doom. But as he looked down at her liquid eyes staring straight back at him, he couldn't say anything. Not even when she lifted her head slightly and placed a light kiss on his lips. She was still cold, but her lips were soft and inviting. His brain went on overload at the sensations. As he had told her before, no one had really touched him in so long; he wondered what it felt like to touch another human being. He missed Cordelia's ministrations to him when he was hurt, Gunn's slaps on the back at a job well-done, even Angel's occasional handshake. And to feel Connor's soft baby skin against his as he slept in Wesley's arms.
He slowly increased the pressure as he felt her lips warm to his. The water sloshed around as Faith adjusted her body to fit directly over his, deepening the kiss much more. His senses were sharp and almost painful at first. Now, he couldn't get enough of her lips on his. When her mouth opened up and invited him in, he pulled her head tightly against his, snaking his tongue past her parted lips to taste.
A furtive meow came from the doorway as the two ground against each other in the now cooling water. In the back of his mind, he knew they needed to stop this nonsense before it went any further. Faith was his slayer, the one who tortured him, ridiculed him, was the reason why he had traveled down the road he was on. But the chance to feel again, to feel alive and be warmed by a human being was not lost on him. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she massaged her strong hands up and down his scalp.
Another desperate sound came from the doorway, this time a little more insistent than before.
"Cat," Faith mumbled against his lips.
That sound broke him out of his revelry. Faith was kissing him, grinding against him, making him feel things he hadn't felt in a long time. It had to stop.
"Faith, stop," he said as he tried to pry her off of him.
"Huh?" she replied, kissing his face and neck desperately.
"This isn't right. You must stop," he implored her to do.
"What? Not right?" she asked.
Like she had been struck by lightening, Faith pulled away quickly, sloshing more water onto the floor. Climbing out of the tub, she grabbed a towel and retreated out of the bathroom quickly, scooping up the kitten along the way. Breathing in and out, Wesley was finally able to calm his body enough to stand and get out of the tub. His ribs really did scream in protest at him this time. The black and blue marks were just beginning to make their appearance and would be there for quite some time.
As he stood shakily in front of the mirror, he noticed something he hadn't in quite a while. He could see himself clearly in the mirror now. Sure, he looked much older than he thought he should. But his eyes held a purpose now. And he couldn't let his amorous feelings get in the way. Faith was his slayer, no matter how he looked at it. He wouldn't touch her again, unless necessary. But as he looked down at his shaking hands, he didn't think he would be able to keep his promise to himself. He had liked her touch too much.
TBC