Disclaimer: Hey, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox! I'll trade you! My evil cat for your Angel characters! Whaddya say?

Chapter Four: Can't Stop the Shaking

Wesley was alive.

It took a moment for this fact to register with him. He was lying flat on his back, his limbs shaking and his breath hitching. There was a most terrible pain in the side of his torso. At first, Wesley thought it was the wound from Cyvus Vail's knife. Then he realized it was from his lungs.

Breathe, he thought. I need to breathe. Air. Air!

His first breath was a rattling, deep gasp. The pain in his chest eased, thought he was still unable to think clearly. He eyes were wide open. He took no notice of his surroundings.

Wesley tried exhaling, but found he could only cough. His throat was burning. And, for some reason, he couldn't stop his arms from trembling.

Wesley's arms were trembling, though he didn't allow the others to see. He stared at the congealed blood that pooled on the floor around Lilah. He could almost see shapes in the blood splatters, the way you might see shapes in clouds.

Another deep breath. And another. Wesley's vision was blurred. Yet, he could vaguely make out a shape in the corner of his left eye. The shape was moving. Approaching him. A person? Wesley tried to focus his eyes on the blob, but all he got for his efforts was a shooting pain in his temple.

The blob gently placed a hand on Wesley's arm. Wesley turned his head to get a better look at the hand. Useless, as the hand was hidden in a black glove. Now that his vision was clearing, Wesley could tell that the person was wrapped in a dark magician's cloak, and his or her face was hidden by the hood.

"Wesley." The blob spoke in a rough whisper that Wes couldn't place. "Wesley, you're back. Are you--"

Whoever-it-was broke off abruptly and looked up from where Wesley lay. Had he/she/it heard something? Wesley listened hard, but his hearing seemed as weakened as his vision. Suddenly, the cloaked figure turned and ran out of Wesley's line-of-sight.

Wesley tried raising his head to look around. His neck, however, was apparently too weak. He lay there, on the rough table, for several seconds, trying to stop his body from quaking. An aftereffect of whatever resurrection spell had been used on him, no doubt. He was still finding it hard to breathe.

After a minute, Wesley heard something. Click, click, click. The sound of heals on an concrete floor in a large, empty room. Someone was running towards him…. Perhaps the reason the hooded figure had fled?

And now, there was another blob standing over him. Differently shaped with feminine features and dark hair. For one heart-stopping moment, Wesley was sure it was Fred. But then she spoke.

"Well," she said. "I must say: This is unexpected."

That voice….

Sign it, as proof. Think about who you're really mad at. The worst spot in Hell is reserved for those who betray. You're a son of bitch, you know that? Don't worry, lover, I didn't feel a thing. That's why we never would have worked out. What was it like when she cut you?

It means something that you tried.

So many memories connected with one person. One woman.

"Lilah," rasped Wesley, before passing out.

----------

"Wesley," Lilah's voice echoed in the abandoned warehouse. "Wesley, wake up."

Lilah had pushed aside the shock she'd felt at finding Wesley alive. Instead, she concentrated on analyzing this unanticipated situation. She had just pulled open the door of the warehouse in France where the psychics had informed her Wesley's soul was being held, when she saw a dark figure bending over a table on the far side of the room. As she had approached, the individual had run off and exited out the back of the warehouse. She saw movement on the table and found Wesley, shaking, naked, and looking all-too-delirious.

And now, she was doing her best to rouse him from his faint. "Wesley," she called yet again, this time slapping him rather roughly across the cheek. He opened his eyes blearily. "There you are. Come on, Wes, time to wake up." Another slap seemed to snap him into consciousness. He blinked and shook his head as if trying to wave away the last vestiges of drowsiness.

"Hey," said Lilah. She wasn't exactly sure what she should do in this type of situation. Was it better to have him sit up or stay down? Did he need water? For some strange reason, 'resurrection' hadn't been a discussed topic in her high school first-aid class.

"Are you all right? Do you recognize me, Wesley?"

"Mother?" he asked hazily . Lilah found this most disturbing, for obvious reasons. Did she honestly look that old?

"No, Wes, it's--"

"Lilah," he answered, more clearly. "Yes, of course, I don't…. Sorry, I--"

"It's okay. Do you feel well? Do you… need anything?"

"Cold," he murmured. "I'm cold."

Lilah wasn't ready for this. It was summer, and she hadn't brought a blanket or worn a coat. She had nothing to throw over him. So she began rubbing his arms, trying to get his circulation going.

"No," he said. "Hot. I feel hot."

"Dammit, Wesley, make up your mind."

Wesley coughed in response, and turned onto his side.

"Can you sit up?" Lilah asked.

"I don't know. Everything feels weak." Nevertheless, Wesley pushed up unsteadily with his arms. Lilah did her best to help him, and eventually he sat hunched forward with his legs hanging over the table. He went into another round of coughing.

"Is this Hell?" he asked, looking around. "Am I dead? I don't feel dead; I'm breathing, aren't I? But the knife… it was a mortal wound--"

"You're not dead," Lilah responded. "Or, if you are, you must be a very intelligent, life-like zombie. But I'm pretty sure you're alive." She grinned. "At least, you're certainly more alive than I am."

Wesley looked at her. "How? How am I back? I know I died. I felt my heart stop."

"We'll have time to answer that six-million-dollar question later. Right now, I think we should get somewhere a bit safer." Lilah looked around at the musty warehouse. "And cleaner."

She helped Wesley off the table and into a standing position. No sooner was he on his feet, however, than he was falling backwards, reaching towards the table for support. Lilah caught him before he dropped, and pulled his arm around her shoulders. He leaned heavily on her as she moved slowly towards the door.

An hour later, Lilah was parking her rented car outside the resort in which she had been staying. Wesley was curled up in the backseat, still shaking. Lilah must have adjusted the temperature two dozen times trying to get him comfortable. Nothing had helped.

So she left Wesley in the car and rushed up to her room long enough to grab a terry-cloth robe. She pushed people out of her way as she raced back down the hallway to the elevator. The fact was starting to sink in: Wesley was alive.

Wesley was alive. Lilah was surprised at how much relief this fact brought. She had been sure he and the rest of Angel's puppy-dog-saving gang would have been out in the middle of the rain of fire, fighting whatever Big Bad had executed it.

She had spent the night at Wolfram and Hart, camping out on the floor of her office and staring out the window at the plummeting fireballs. Many thoughts turned over in her head. Mostly worrisome ones. Which was odd, as Lilah had made it a rule never to worry about anyone except herself.

But Wesley was alive and relatively unhurt. She hovered in his doorway, staring at him. He stared back. Lilah hesitated for a moment, before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. It was a testament of how much she had grown to care for him over the months, because the only other person she had ever hugged was her mother.

But instead of returning the embrace, Wesley's entire body stiffened. Lilah should have known that instant. Known what was coming. And perhaps, deep down, she did. But hopeless wishing blinded her to the inevitable.

People gave Wesley strange looks in the elevator. Not surprising, considering he was wrapped in nothing but a robe and shaking like a leaf. Not to mention he was putting almost all of his weight on Lilah.

When they got to Lilah's room, Wesley immediately fell onto the bed. Lilah got him a glass of water and waited until he had finished it before interrogating him.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

Wesley gave an almost imperceptible nod, though Lilah noticed he was still trembling slightly.

"Are you hungry?"

"No. Not really," he whispered.

"What do you remember?"

Wesley stared at her. "Remember about what?"

"What do you remember since you died?"

Wesley sat back against the bedpost and stared at the ceiling. "I don't know. I think I was dreaming. No, I was recalling… different parts of my life. Then I felt a strange sensation. I woke up on a table with someone standing over me. Then you came."

"You didn't recognize the person?" Lilah asked. Wesley shook his head.

"Was it a man or woman?"

"I don't know."

"Human or demon?"

"I don't know."

"Tall or short?"

"I don't know."

"Thanks, Wes. You've been a real help."

Wesley seemed agitated. "Look," he snapped, "it was dark, and the person was cloaked, and in case you didn't notice, I was disoriented. You'll pardon me if my resurrection clouded my senses a bit. And I--" He went silent, and started blinking rapidly.

Lilah frowned. "Yes? You what?"

Wesley looked like he was having trouble speaking. "I… I thought you were Fred." And he turned on his side and started crying into one of the pillows. Lilah couldn't help but feel hurt that Wesley had been disappointed to see her. He had wanted Winifred Burkle. Not Lilah Morgan.

But she pushed the feeling aside just enough to notice that while Wesley's body was heaving with sobs, he had finally stopped shaking.

-----More to Come-----

You know the drill: review, review, review. Let me know what you did or didn't like about this chapter. A thousand thank-you's to kittyge, gopie, -J, greensleeves8, irish6red, Ruth Quist, WesLess, Rissa Rose, torontokid2003, Luckysparkle, cursedgirl, Beer Good, redmoon, and jords for the reviews thus far!

The guesses: Willow, Giles, Ethan, Dawn, Andrew, Illyria, Angel, and Faith. I suppose it's only fair to narrow things down a little. So, as a hint of sorts, it isn't Willow or Ethan. I'll narrow it down again next chapter.