Author note: This chapter is definitely rated M (16+)(or R under the old rating system). It contains language, implied child abuse andadult situations. So if you're not old enough to read, please find another great fic on this site. Thanks!

Chapter Eight – Are You Happy Now?

"I'll never forgive you, never. I'll kill you. You're a dead man, Pryce. You hear me? Dead!"

Wesley watched as Angel had put the pillow from the hospital bed over his head, smothering the life out of him. Gunn and the orderlies tugged and finally wrenched Angel away from him, letting him take that needed breath.

Watching it happen to him was all so surreal. He was being suffocated like he had in previous dreams. A bystander, a watcher he was now. He watched as the Champion tried to snuff out his life with a pillow. Oh, the irony. That was all he was. A nobody. No, no one had ever called him a champion. He just picked up the slack, translated prophecies wrong, and generally got himself into trouble at the drop of a hat. Only now he had to get himself out of trouble.

As the orderlies yanked on Angel to leave the hospital room, their white uniforms transformed into red robes, eyes going blank. Gunn's eyes widened as he watched the same transformation. Wes thought he heard a small screech come from Fred. The knife that one of them produced ended her voice for good by slicing through her throat, taking that screech away from her forever. Gunn didn't even have time to react before another knife was driven into his chest, blood spurting out. He was dead before he hit the floor. Angel lashed out, all fists and fangs, standing in front of Wesley's bed, almost like he was trying to defend him. He even managed to take one of the creatures out before a stake found its way into his undead heart. But it didn't come from the red robed beings. It came from the direction of the bed.

His other self arose, grinning from ear to ear, stake clutched between his hands. No, no, Wesley wanted to shout, this wasn't the real Wesley. Never had his dreams been this vivid. All the blood was so red, the bodies so pale looking, the dust still floating in the air. The other Wesley got up from the bed, stepping over the bodies like they were nothing to him. As he strolled out the door, the red robed figure followed him, like a minion would do.

Cordelia appeared from the elevator with her lap dog Groo on her heels. Wesley just smiled, shaking his head at the minion to take care of Groo. Cordelia's eyes narrowed at him as he came closer. The red robed figure drew a knife, taking on the Pylean, making him step back, losing his balance. Cordelia went into a fighting stance, but with no weapons on her person, that would be short-lived. The other Wesley strode over to her, gripping her hair tight in his hands and tugged her so delicate neck, snapping it in two.

"No," he heard a voice scream from down the corridor.

Wesley just wished he could help out the people in his dream. This other Wesley was wrecking havoc, destroying all of his friends in the process. He tried everything to stop the other Wesley, even standing in front of him. But the evil man passed right through him. Wesley turned to see Faith charging down the hall. She wasn't a part of his life back then. Why would she be in the dream now?

The other Wesley just smiled at her. Then he transformed into the Mayor, making Faith stop in her tracks. Behind her, many more minions appeared, blocking off her only way of retreating. Faith stared at the Mayor in front of her, unable to move from the spot. Until it again transformed itself into Buffy. When it did, Faith charged, roaring as she did. As her head came off from someone's sword swing, Wesley yelled until he couldn't any more.

Shooting up from his makeshift bed on the floor by the fire, he breathed in heavily as he tried to look around the room. The fire had died down. Only a few glowing embers were present. Other than that, the room had been plunged into utter darkness.

"Faith?" he gasped out, discovering that she was not beside him.

He scrambled up from the floor, trying to figure out where the Slayer might have gone. Running into a table, he growled, pushing it out of the way.

"Faith," he finally yelled without much dignity.

If he didn't find some kind of light quickly, he knew his mind would start playing tricks on him. That's why he always left some kind of light on, always had a flashlight or candle directly beside his bed. One never knew when the electricity would go out.

"Hey, what's the what?" he finally heard that familiar voice say from the hallway.

"Light. Where's the light?"

Oh, god, he sounded like a small child. As he started to hyperventilate, Faith found a candle and lit it, placing it on the table beside him. He hadn't realized that he was now on the floor, curled up into the fetal position.

"Shit. I am so sorry. I just got up to use the bathroom. I forgot. I am so sorry."

Faith crouched down to his level, wrapping herself around him. As his mind flashed back to the episode in the hospital, he tried to gather his wits about him. It wouldn't do either of them a bit of good if he went off the deep end. She didn't need to know how terrified he really was of the dark. But she could probably form her own conclusions right at that moment.

"I'm OK," he managed to get out.

He realized that he hadn't made it very far. He had collapsed not five feet from their makeshift bed. Faith diligently grabbed a blanket and covered him with it. She then climbed under, wrapping as much of her body around his as she could.

"Just breathe. You don't wanna hyperventilate."

That was exactly what he was doing. His chest tightened up as he closed his eyes to try and calm down.

"I can't breathe," Wesley got out.

"Damn it. You need to pull out of this," she growled back at him, yanking him over until they were face-to-face.

"Don't die."

Not that there weren't other disturbing images in his dream. Not that the lack of lighting hadn't sent him into what he called an episode. As he had watched her engage in fighting the red robed figures, as he watched her get her head sliced off, he knew that no matter what he woke up to, he wouldn't be able to breathe. It had been his alter-ego that had delivered the final blow to her.

"I'm here. Not dead yet," she whispered as she placed her lips against his.

Faith increased the pressure until he finally relaxed into the kiss. Her hands kneaded through his hair as she calmed him to the point where all he could concentrate on was Faith. Slowly, she lifted herself off of him to look down.

"Sorry," Wesley stammered out.

"Hey, no prob."

"I just, there was no light, and I woke up. And I had just killed you. They were after you."

He knew he wasn't making much sense.

"Whoa. Wait a sec. You killed me?"

Faith abruptly sat up, pushing away from him.

"It wasn't me. It looked like me. Then it looked like the Mayor, then Buffy of all people. Then I sliced your head off. That's when I awoke."

"And I thought my dreams were freaky."

Gingerly, Wesley sat up. He was lightheaded from the hyperventilating. As he tried to clear his brain, he looked at Faith. She was trying so hard not to look frightened, but wasn't succeeding very well.

"I, um, had a nightmare."

"No shit. Kind of reminds me of someone I know."

"You didn't have that particular one?"

"Nah. Still pretty freaky."

Placing his head between his legs, he pondered what the dream could signify.

"Thank you for the, um, bringing me out of . . . ," Wesley started to say.

"You were totally freakin' out. I would too if I had just killed you. Which I haven't in a dream. You always seem to do that to me."

Wesley's head shot up at her confession.

"I didn't know."

"Yeah, well. My fucked up brain and all. It's fuckin' cold in here. You be OK if I toss some logs on the fire?"

Wesley finally noticed that he was sitting with a blanket around him and nothing else on. Faith at least had the forethought to put on a shirt before answering the call of nature.

"I am not a child," came out a little shrill.

"Nope. That's for sure," she laughed a little as she got up from the floor beside him.

As Faith stoked the fire, making it roar to life, Wesley crawled over to the bed, blanket wrapped around him like a cloak.

"I'm sorry for that. I normally don't fall apart quite like that."

"Hey, we all have our demons," she said as she sat down across from him.

"When it's light, we'll continue our research. I do believe that the dream I had was some kind of clue."

"You're not a slayer, so why the fucked up dreams?"

Wesley racked his brain for any kind of Watcher explanation. He couldn't remember any Watcher ever writing that he or she had dreams that were quite like Slayer dreams.

"I suppose I could be losing touch with reality."

"Oh, no, no, you don't. If you think you're going nuts, then I'm definitely already to the funny farm and they've strapped me down. Not happening, dude."

Faith just didn't understand. She didn't understand his insecurities, his history, his training, his need to do the right thing that he had been ingrained with since birth.

"Then how do you explain all of this?"

Her look of frustration apparently mirrored his own. Her toes inched over to touch his. He hadn't realized how warm it had become sitting in front of the fire with Faith.

"Dunno. Use that big ole' brain of yours. Or you can use that big ole' other appendage of yours and give me a happy?"

The smile on her face was unmistakable. She really was just joking around with him, trying to distract him from his depressed musings. He concluded she knew how to distract him better than anyone at the moment.

"I'm not sure if that's prudent."

She snickered his way, shaking her head at his statement. "You and your big words. We're stuck in a cabin in the middle of a fucking blizzard. What else are we gonna do?"

They could talk, he thought. Although Faith wasn't known for her witty conversation. They could research. That they would have to do when the sun came up, if it provided them any light in which to work. Hopefully it would get lighter in the cabin the closer it came to dawn. Wesley inched his toes next to hers. He did want her to understand some things about him before they worked together again. Because it appeared that they would be stuck with each other for quite some time.

He invariably wiped the smile off her face with his next declaration. "My father used to lock me under the stairs, in the dark, with rodents as company."

"Oh," was her response.

"It seems that lately being in the dark has increased my paranoia tenfold. I guess almost dying will do that to a person."

"And here I thought just general neglect was the worst a parent could dish out. Man, your father's fucked up."

Faith may have more insight than he realized. He had forgotten about her childhood, how difficult that it might have been.

"He was very exacting in what he wanted me to accomplish."

"What? Get one wrong on a test or somethin'? Cuz, I hardly even went to school. Never thought it was important. My mom must have pulled me out a dozen different times because we moved around, a lot. Lived with so many boyfriends, I lost count."

"My father is a cold bastard who couldn't care less if I were alive or dead."

"Got ya beat on that. My fuckin' mom has already bit the big one. Too much drinking and drugs did her in early. Wanna trade?"

Faith rubbed her big toe up and down his ankle. This must be Faith's way of opening up to someone. If he could keep her talking, he definitely would figure out how she ticked. Or she would throw in the towel and think that he really was that 'fucked up' individual he believed himself to be.

"Your mother didn't require that you be perfect," he answered her back sarcastically.

"My ma didn't require me to be alive, if you wanna know. She thought I was just a nuisance. Something that interfered with her fucking and drinking. I must have run away from home two dozen times. Got placed too many times to count. And she always got me back. It was that last time, when her last fucking boyfriend tried . . . ." Faith halted her confessions.

Wesley reached over to tilt her chin up, so she would look at him when he asked her the question she probably didn't want to answer.

"How old were you when you left home?"

Faith bit her lower lip, like she was trying to figure out a lie to tell him. She was not a good liar. She went through life punching her way out of trouble. He had learned how to use his brain to get himself out of trouble.

"Fifteen. Kind of a necessity."

"Where did you stay? Your watcher didn't find you until you were sixteen, almost seventeen."

"Yeah, well, friends, you know. I survived. No big deal."

"It's a big deal to me," he quietly told her as he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Not stuff they tell the Watcher newbies?"

He wanted to rant and rave at her that he had been inadequately trained. But he concluded that he just wasn't old enough at that time to help a girl like Faith. He didn't have the life experiences that he had now.

"Apparently not. They didn't take those personal facts about slayers in to account. Did he touch you?"

Faith visibly flinched at his question. Even if he hadn't, the way she had been treated as a child would explain why she needed to act like she was in control. The poor girl never had any control while she was young. Nor any guidance whatsoever. She was lost before she could walk.

Faith's head spun. Why'd he want to talk about her? They were doing so well talking about him. She had figured out a little more the enigma that was good old Wesley. Now she saw why he was able to take the punishment she had meted out to him the time she tortured him. He had been taught early on not to cry out in pain. She wondered if Daddy Pryce had hurt him just like she had hurt him.

But he had turned the conversation back to her. And it wasn't a question that she felt was any of his business. Even if he had seen parts of her no other man had.

"Did he touch me? What about you? Did he beat you if you got something wrong? I'll bet that Daddy Pryce messed with you more than any of my mom's boyfriends did."

Wesley withdrew automatically from her, curling his arms around his legs defensively. She so didn't want him to shut down. He had just put her on the defensive too with those probing questions.

"He wasn't easy to live with, no. But you just diverted my question with your own question. Is it you don't want to me to know or that you'll be embarrassed to let me know something about you?"

"OK, done sharing now."

Faith abruptly got up from her position. Before she could cross the floor to the kitchen, Wesley grabbed her around the leg.

"I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Fuck you, Wes."

She strode over to the sink after he dropped his hand. Gulping down a glassful of water, she turned to find him looming over her. She hadn't even known he'd gotten up, pulled on his jeans and was now standing directly behind her. When had he learned to move so quietly? Or had he just known how to and she had never seen it?

"I'm sorry," he explained.

"Listen, it's just not a topic for discussion. So let's just drop it."

The one candle and the firelight didn't quite reach over to the kitchen well enough so she could see his eyes. She so wanted to see his eyes right then. His eyes were so expressive, she had discovered.

"Agreed. I don't want to dreg up unpleasant memories from you."

God, had he ever been this tall and imposing before? She didn't remember him being this imposing in Sunnydale. Or even this imposing when she last saw him in LA.

"I used to hide in the cupboards. It would be all dark and stuff, but those stupid fucks couldn't find me. So I kinda know how it feels to be trapped in the dark. My own choosing, but it's sorta the same. It's just not fucking fair. They should like have to take a test or something to be a parent."

She could see the fact that he was smiling right then. Against his dark beard, the bright smile did stick out. He must agree, she thought. Of course, if they weren't careful, they might have that problem to deal with also. But it was so not a subject she wanted to bring up right then.

As he moved in closer to her, basically pinning her to the counter, she wondered if they really did need to talk about it. She wasn't about to have any brats around her ankles any time soon. And it would be just her luck that he would have that magic bullet that would hit the bullseye. He bypassed her lips and made straight for her throat, nipping and kissing his way up and down until she knew she needed to get him to stop.

"Uh, we should talk," she finally managed to squeak out, dodging under his long arms to get away from him.

He leaned against the counter for a moment before turning to face her. Man, she fucked up again. He must think she was the one who was nuts.

"About?"

He looked kind of pissed off, but she couldn't worry about that right now.

"Uh, well, there's just some things I need to get straight, you know. Cuz, we, um, did some serious stuff. Fuck, I'm such a fucking loser."

There, she said it. Could he read between the lines and figure it out? Probably not. He still was Wesley. Sometimes as dense as a brick.

"It's a little early to think about things. What we did was nice."

"What?" That was so not the right thing to say to her. "Are you really fucking nuts? That was more than just nice."

"That's not what I meant to say."

"Yeah, well, what did you mean to say?"

Wes sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"Yes, it was more than just nice, I do have to admit. I just wasn't exactly performing up to your expectations."

Faith snorted. Man, she just had to react somehow. Yeah, he messed up a little. Wasn't as smooth as she wanted at first. But he had more than made up for it later.

"Three times. Wanna go for four?"

Wesley's head jerked up to look at her. "I didn't think that we'd . . . ."

"What? That we wouldn't again? You really are repressed. The only time you're not is when you're screwing me senseless. Gotta do that more often. One request though. Got any condoms? I really don't wanna see a fucked up Faith clone or a repressed Wesley one running around here any time soon."

His jaw had dropped open until she thought she'd have to push it back up for him. She really did know how to shock him into being speechless. As he rubbed his hand through his beard, she thought that he was going to decline.

"We didn't use anything before," he simply stated.

"Well, no. It was just that one time."

"Twice," he corrected her.

"Oh yeah. That's right. The time where you got off and totally forgot that I existed."

"I'm not the one who decided to take it fast."

"Hey, don't blame me. So? Chop, chop. Let's get this show on the road. Unless you wanna play out that spanking fantasy of yours."

He grabbed her and thrust his tongue half way down her throat before she could even breathe. When had he learned to move that fast? Damn, there was still so much she didn't know about him. But she did know that he wanted her.

"Not forgetting," she said between kisses.

"No. Not at all. Wait. Wait right here."

He literally ran into the other room with the candle in his shaking hand. She heard slamming of doors and things falling. She almost decided to go and help out just so he wouldn't burn the place down in his haste. But he emerged with something behind his back. He gingerly placed the candle on the mantel, away from any flying limbs. Then he dumped the contents of a box out on her head.

"You are such the Boy Scout," she chided him.

"Eternal optimist, I would like to say. I kept them around for old times sake. Not like I had any opportunity to use them."

She jumped into his arms, getting a groan from him.

"Lots of opportunities now."

"Yes," he grunted out, wincing as she bounced in his arms. "Ribs," he finally let her know.

"Oh shit. Sorry," she said as she slid down him.

He groaned as her feet hit the ground. Now that was not a groan of pain. Unless she added him trapped in his jeans. So she unzipped him.

"Going commando?"

"Couldn't find my boxers. Or my shirt for that matter."

He eyed the shirt she was wearing. She didn't know what she was grabbing in the dark. She just wanted some clothes to put on. Then she pulled up the shirt to show him where the boxers had ended up.

"I wonder if that deserves another go over my knee?" he quipped, eyes going darker in the firelight.

Faith swatted at him, driving him against her. "If anyone is bending over, it's you."

"I like how you think," he whispered in her ear as he made his way to her earlobe, biting down gently.

Working his fingers between the gaps in the boxers, he searched until he found how excited she was. Then she did as she had promised.

"Now your ass is nice and red, just like mine was," she told him.

He immediately threw her down on the blankets and covered her body with his.

"Too bad I didn't bring the handcuffs," he said as he started to unbutton his shirt to pull off of her.

He didn't let her get a word in edgewise for the next hour. She figured that those mad skills extended to his voice purring in her ear. Damn him and that voice of his. God, if this was what learning all those languages and shit did to him, now she knew why it was good to have an education. He had already learned what she liked, being the quick study that he was.

"Was that four?" he said panting.

"It could be counted as number four, if you'd been counting, you fuckhead."

"No, I was wondering if I had added another four to the count you seem to be keeping?"

She hit him squarely on the chest, eliciting a major grunt out of him.

"See. Don't mess with me."

"I wouldn't dream of it, love. But watch the ribs."

Damn it, he wrapped himself around her again, pinning her down.

"Not going anywhere," she sighed out as he got more comfortable laying his head between her breasts.

"My darling, there isn't anywhere else to go. You just make an excellent heater, and an excellent pillow, I might add."

"Jerk," she said to him as she shoved him off, placing her head squarely on his shoulder and throwing her leg over him.

She could see him smile as he drifted off to sleep. She had put that contented smile on his face this time. Now if she could just make sure it would stay that way, then she'd be happier herself.

TBC

Author notes: I can't believe all the nice feedback I've gotten. Sorry that I'm not updating like I used to (which was every other day or so on my other fics), but life has intervened. But I will finish this story soon, just so you know. I'm not going to leave anyone hanging. Expect me to update once or twice a week, maybe a little more. Thanks for all of your support and yay, welcome to all the new readers!