Chapter II: When the dust clears.
Angel found Wesley standing at the large window in the latter's office. Wes had thought he might never again do this, for a terrible time when he was so close to death. He had thought about never again having a perfectly aged Scotch, with just the right amount of ice, never again helping someone, never again loving, never again having his heart broken, never again seeing the people he loved- his friends and family in this little piece of the world-, never getting the chance to do the things he'd had on his bucket list (climbing Everest, writing a novel or screenplay, becoming a husband and becoming a father, getting a tattoo, travelling to every continent in the world)…oh, the list was endless and he'd need at least two eternity's to tick everything off.
Wes sensed Angel come into the office but he didn't speak. He wasn't quite sure how long it had been since he'd left Angel, Lorne and Illyria in Angel's office. He knew that Angel was disappointed Wes hadn't stayed, and if Illyria had been cognicent enough she would have felt the same- although she wouldn't necessarily have known what the emotion was or why she was feeling it. The sun had begun it's descent into the sky and L.A was lit with the most amazing sunset Wes had ever experienced. He thought about how normally a sunset like that would foretell doom and he wondered whether anyone had seen four horsemen riding through the streets of L.A.
"How is she?" Wes asked.
Angel knew what his friend meant. "She seems stable. I had to call in a long overdue favour to get a Sharman healer into see her and he performed some crazy arse ceremony and made her drink about two litres of some foul smelling liquid mix and now she's sleeping. She seems peaceful."
"Good. Thank God." Wes breathed out. Now he only had about half a dozen worlds weighing his shoulders down.
"What the hell happened Wesley?" Angel asked. For a second Wes thought he meant "what did you do Wesley?" but then realised the vampire with a soul's question was more general.
Wes didn't turn around. "I don't know."
"I can't believe that the Circle would consider that" Angel waved a hand in the vague direction of the city outside the window "an apocalypse. God I've had many parties that were a lot wilder than that over the course of my existence. And there was this one time, at band camp…or no, that might have been a movie."
Wes didn't speak.
"We need to find out. We need to know where we stand: did we destroy the Circle? Or did we fail? Are they still in existence? Are there going to be further reprisals and this is just the calm before the storm? Do we get to just keep on fighting the good fight like nothing happened? Are we in some parallel universe? Have we been tricked by demons? Are we dead? Most importantly we need to know about our friends…did any of them make it?" Angel's voice cracked slightly.
Wes still didn't turn around. He didn't think Angel was after a hug somehow. "I just don't know." He repeated.
"Damn it Wesley! You're the one with all the answers. Usually. You've got to find some. I just need to know. Everything." Angel demanded.
'This is one time, mate, where you really don't want to know everything.' Wes thought. But what he said was, "I'm going to find those answers. I just need to take a moment. Or an hour. I need some fresh air but then I'll come right back here and I won't leave my desk until I get the answers you- we- need."
Angel sighed heavily. "I suppose that's a reasonable request. We thought we were going to die today and we didn't. The last few days have had us all stretched to breaking point. Matter of fact I think I've hardly even seen you this last week or so. So you take your hour, take time to smell the roses if that floats your boat, and then we'll work it out. We always work it out. Just hopefully in time."
Wes finally turned around, but his eyes didn't quite meet Angel's. Guilty conscious, he told himself disgustedly. "I'll be back."
"Okay. But be careful Wes, we don't know what the hell's happening out there. Anything gives you goosebumps or raises your suspicions get back here right away. I don't know how many friends- no, family members- I lost today and I don't want you to be one." Angel said.
Wes nodded.
"You know what really peeves me off Wesley?" Angel asked when Wes had almost reached the door of the office.
He turned around and raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't even get to fight." Angel said.
"I would imagine that would be a good thing." Wes suggested.
"I felt like fighting- I was ready to kill some demons. I was so sick of being a pawn in everyone else's games, I'm sick of feeling like everyone else has read the rules of the game but not me…I thought if I was going down I'd go fighting and I'd drag as many of the bastards down with me as I could." Angel explained.
"I get that." Wes said. And he did. "But I also get that, for whatever reason, we made it out the other side and we get to keep on doing what we do. The resources of Wolfram and Hart-"
"I'm not entirely sure I'm going to keep doing this Wes. I'm getting too old for this. I should have quit on my 100th birthday. I'm wondering if maybe, when this is all settled and we know where we stand, I'm out…" Angel mused.
Wes felt a stab of fear and he spoke quickly, his words tumbling over one another. "You can't just stop. You've got a mission Angel. I know you've seen so many horrible things, hell you did some of them yourself, but think about how many innocent people we've saved, how many of them would be dead were we not here. And okay if you left I'd still fight, hopefully the others would still fight, but it wouldn't be the same. You know things. And you fight better than any of us. Being practically immortal means you can keep on going when we stop. Without you things would be worse and you'd probably be consigning innocent people to their deaths."
"Aww, I'm touched by your love Wes, I really am. Is this where we tell each other how we can't live without each other and confess our hidden love?" Angel asked.
"Just promise me that when we've found our friends and worked out what happened then you'll at least take time to think about any rash decision." Wes asked. And, he added silently to himself, 'let me find a way to keep you here, to keep the team together.'
Angel nodded his agreement. "I did get a couple of war wounds at least."
Wes left the building almost at a run to avoid staying in close proximity to his boss. Why had Angel called him family and made him feel like a right utter shit for what he'd done? He knew he was going to have to stop these feelings of guilt or else being around the people he loved was going to be far too hard. Besides had he not made the deal this city would probably be crumbled in ruins by now. The feelings were something he was just going to have to live with and learn to deal with so he could keep doing what he did: saving innocent people from their worst nightmares. He had many, many questions he wanted answers to, but primarily how was the prophecy going to come true and who'd lived to fight another day when the dust settled.
Wes started to walk briskly and, after about thirty minutes, he finally slowed and looked around him. He wasn't quite sure where he was. A pair of teenage girls got into their car- a hot vintage Mustang- and they looked at him and giggled. Probably not used to seeing anyone actually using their legs to get around in L.A, he guessed.
What struck him most as he looked around was the normalcy of the scene. It was a mid-week night in L.A and it was like any other night. There were no signs of demons, nor any signs that demons, the Circle or senior partners had done anything to anyone. The sky was dark and no mythical looking demonic creatures flew from cracks in the sky leading to other dimensions. And finally he let out a huge breath and felt his entire body begin to shake. Really shake, not just shivering. His legs gave out beneath him and he crawled to a nearby bus stop and pulled himself onto the seat. He had to clasp his hands together to stop them from trembling so violently and he felt involuntary tears spring into his eyes. He took deep breath after deep breath, having trouble getting enough oxygen into his lungs. Was it truly real? Had they actually not only survived but defeated the enemy they had believed so unbeatable?
He felt a bit better and could have begun his treck back towards Wolfram and Hart but he hesitated. "Maybe I shouldn't go back there. Maybe I should just help them work out what happened and find out about everyone else and then just walk away. Plenty of demons in other locations to fight." He said out loud, ignoring the look on a family of four passing by that clearly thought he belonged in a straight jacket.
"NO! No Wes. That won't do! You have to stay. It's your destiny to keep doing what you do." A voice said.
Wes jumped and then winced- it was so loud! His head swiveled in a circle, looking for the speaker, but nobody was near him. So he looked further, peering into shops- closed and open-, at people walking by, everywhere. And saw nobody who could have been talking. God maybe he really was cracked? Imagining voices.
"Oh come ON. You know I'm not imaginary." The voice argued. It was a woman's voice but Wes was almost certain he'd never heard it before, so it wasn't the voice of someone he knew or had met.
Wesley looked around him again but people were oblivious. How had they not heard the voice? God knew it was loud enough.
"They can't see me or hear me. Only you can." The voice explained.
"Except I can't see you." Wes answered, but as a whisper so he'd not get the attention of people walking by.
"That's because you're not meant to, because I don't want you to yet." The voice responded.
"What do you want?" Wes asked wearily.
"I'm just letting you know that your thoughts a few minutes ago about not going back to Wolfram and Hart, to your friends and your mission, is a really, really bad idea. You're destined to be there." The voice said.
"Thing about destiny is it's getting on my nerves a little bit. Whatever happened to free will and one not having their actions predetermined by prophecies?" Wes demanded.
"Choices are overated. They're so last season. Fate is the new black." The voice replied.
"Cordy?" Wes asked, even though the voice wasn't hers.
"You were saved for a reason Wesley." The voice said, ignoring his question.
"Or because I betrayed my friends? Again." Wes disagreed.
"You know that you did the right thing. If you hadn't signed that contract the prophecy wouldn't have come true and this lovely night wouldn't be enjoyed by a single person since they'd all be dead or prisoners of bloodthirsty, vicious demons." The voice argued.
Wes sighed and didn't reply.
"There is a purpose for you on this earth Wesley Wyndham-Price." The voice told him.
"What?" Wes inquired.
"You can't know yet. You'll know when the time comes." The voice answered.
"Oh enough with the bloody cryptic already!" Wes snapped, his patience evaporated. "I'm beginning to feel a bit like everyone's bitch now. The Council are going to come calling but I don't know why. You're telling me I've got some higher purpose but won't tell me anything about it. Angel wants me to find out what happened so I've got to come up with a plausible reason for what I did- as well as find out more about the Trio- and work out what happened to people I care very deeply for."
"The Watcher's Council reached out to you?" The voice was patently surprised.
Wes could have kicked himself. He really needed to learn to keep things back and play his cards a bit closer to his chest or else he'd be telling the wrong people the wrong thing.
"I assumed he was from the Council because of his accent. But it's probably more likely that it's something else entirely." Wes lied.
"Now you need to get back to the office. You need to do some research on the senior partners and the Circle and find an explanation as to why the apocalypse never really got off the ground because, unless you do, Angel is going to search high and low for the answers and you never know what he might find and how it might lead to you. You need to find your friends and colleagues and then get on with what you were put on this earth to do- save people from demons, vampires, evil witches and warlocks, and all the assorted supernatural flotsam and jetsam." The voice instructed.
Wes wasn't sure how he knew but he knew the voice was gone. Before he'd been able to press for a name either.
"Do you remember what happened to you? Did you defeat Vail? Did you start to make your way to the alley but be waylaid? Did you see or hear of the others who aren't here yet?" Angel asked about an hour later. He fired each question at Wes in a stattaco burst of queries.
They were up in Angel's apartment. With the state of play currently unknown Angel had decided they were safer up in the penthouse. Illyria had been moved up there too and was tucked up in a bed, still sleeping.
Wes was drinking an Irish coffee, Angel was drinking blood he'd zapped in the microwave.
"Has Lorne left?" Wes asked.
"Yes, straight away. I feel pretty bad about what I asked him to do. I knew that, for him, it was something he'd feel far more strongly than any of us. But I still asked him to do it." Angel rubbed a hand across his face tiredly.
"Back to your questions. Vail's dead. It was Fred- erm, Illyria. She saved me. He was stronger than I expected and if she hadn't arrived so quickly it would have been too late for me. She'd done her job easily and she was worried about me. I think there's still Fred inside that blue exterior. I think there might be a way to bring Fred back-"
"Wes, don't get me wrong, I loved Fred too. Not like you or Gunn did but I cared about her too. Nothing would please me more than to have her back. But right now that can't be a priority. Until we know what's going on here it just can't be. But when we've sorted everything out I'll do whatever you need to help you try to get Fred back." Angel interrupted.
Wes decided not to tell Angel he'd been in the alley. Well at least in spirit. He needed to know a bit more about that aspect of the fight before divulging any information about it to anyone. "I didn't manage to do so. I was hurt pretty bad-"
"You don't look like you were." Angel interrupted. Mind you the signs of his own battles were already beginning to disappear into the ether too.
"That's the thing. The wounds, the pain, it disappeared. It was like my body just healed myself completely. And I have no idea why or how." Wes replied. He thought about the place he'd found himself in and about what the mysterious woman had said about people he knew arriving there too.
Angel gaped. "Are you serious?" He demanded.
"Deadly." Wes answered. "I was dying Angel. Illyria saved me from Vail, but she couldn't stop what had happened before she got there. I know how crazy it sounds but I was almost gone. My life flashed through my eyes and then I was in this place…a bright place with people bustling around. I don't think I could see, or couldn't make out, any people but there were quite a few there and I heard a woman and a man speak. I think the man was talking to me but I can't remember what he said. They saved me and sent me back down here. Where I found myself ending up down in the lobby here. There were other people there in my situation Angel. The memory is fuzzy and it's dissipiatating with every passing minute so in a few hours I probably won't remember any of it. Which is why I need to tell you everything I remember before it's gone. And I'm fairly certain that there were other people passing through too. I feel like one or both could have been someone I knew but whether they survived like me or passed, I'm unclear. But no matter how hard I concentrate I can't recall what I desperately want to. And I remember the pain…"
Wes shuddered at the memory and was silent for a few moments. Then he said, "It was agony. I'll never again feel such a pain. God I'll never forget that pain." Then he laughed, a tad bitterly. "Or I will, in a few hours."
Angel's face was perfectly composed, totally blank, as he listened.
'Remind me not to play poker with him.' Wes instructed his brain.
"Anything else you can recall Wes? Think hard." Angel urged.
Wes took a big sip of his drink, the alcohol in it warming his insides. He closed his eyes and tried to force his brain to return to the place. What had the man called it? Dawn? Dusk? Something like that. He opened his eyes again. "The man's voice was familiar but even then I couldn't place it."
"Other voices then? You mentioned a woman." Angel asked.
"Erm…I don't think she was really dealing with me. I think she had someone else on her hands." Wes answered slowly.
"Any other voices in the background?" Angel inquired
"I think there might have been some murmuring which suggests there were at least two other people there." Wesley responded.
"Any names jump out at you?" Angel asked.
"I don't think so, no." Wes replied.
"Any other sounds? In the background maybe?" Angel questioned.
"Erm…I really can't remember." Wes told him. His knuckles were white because of the hard grip he had on his almost-empty glass.
"What about smells?" Angel asked.
Wes shook his head. "I can't remember."
"Smells?" Angel queried.
Wes shook his head, frustrated. "Damn it! I just can't quite grasp anything!" He slammed his glass onto the table with a little too much force and the glass cracked, letting out the end of the liquid onto the table top. "Damn it!"
"It's all right Wes. Just leave it. It's fine." Angel instructed as Wes cast his eyes around looking for a rag or a tissue.
"I'm sorry." Wes said.
"It's fine. I've got plenty more glasses around." Angel assured his friend.
Wes nodded and then sank back into the comfortable leather of the couch he was sitting on and rubbed his head tiredly. "What about you Angel? How did you go with your…tasks?"
Angel was silent for a very long moment and Wes was beginning to think he wasn't going to answer the question. "I completed them. Hamilton actually impressed me. I knew he'd be strong but I think he's been working out at the gym a lot. Although I can't really see him sweating it out at the gym in sweats. I bet he wears suits to work out. And then Connor turned up. He really came through Wes. I'm so proud of the kid I helped create."
Wes didn't tell him he'd seen- via spirit- the fight between Hamilton and Angel and how Connor had turned up and probably swayed things to the side of the good.
"I think we need to get access from the room up there. Although we might not be able to get in there anymore and there might not be anyone there to help." Angel suggested.
That reminded Wes of the one major perk in his contract- a secret library with resources so classified and so extensive that hardly anyone even knew it existed. How was he meant to find the entrance to the room anyway?
All of a sudden Angel made a strangled noise of pain and clutched at his head. Wes jumped from his spot and quickly moved the few feet separating him and the vampire, squatting down next to Angel. "Angel? What's wrong? Are you more badly injured than you thought you were?" He demanded anxiously.
"No. Not that." Angel managed.
"Then what…?" Wes demanded.
"I don't…Oh! You're here!" Angel said, his voice sounding excited and relieved despite the obvious pain he was suffering from.
"Who? Me?" Wes asked confused. He looked around the penthouse. He saw nobody else.
"You look okay. So you weren't hurt." Angel said.
Wes had given up his frenzied questions and simply stayed where he was, watching Angel's face. Angel's eyes were closed and his face had scrunched up in so much pain that his vampire face had returned.
"Oh no. No. Tell me that's not true. Tell me you're still here." Angel pleaded.
A moment later he said, "Did you get rid of her at least?"
Another moment passed. "You did us proud. You did yourself proud. But I always knew you could do it." Angel said.
Another moment later he said, "And I with you. I will not forget this or what you did. Go into that beautiful paradise just behind you. And be free. Oh. It looks like someone's waiting for you there. Go, be with her."
And, just like that, Angel's face relaxed. He opened his eyes, his vampire mask slipped off, and he lowered his hands. "Geez." He exhaled loudly, sounding a little out of breath and tired.
"What the hell happened there Angel?" Wes demanded. "I was really worried. I thought you were in big trouble."
"Gunn's dead." Angel answered, simply.
"Oh." Wes said quietly. He stood up and went towards the bar area where he made himself a double Scotch, and then regained his seat.
"Are we going to lose the others too?" Angel asked. But it was a rhetorical question so Wes didn't venture an answer.
The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, maybe approximately five.
"So he died in the fight then?" Wes asked.
"I guess so. He was injured before hand. A lesser man wouldn't have made it to the Hyperion with those sorts of injuries but then Gunn was no ordinary man.
"Amen to that." Wes muttered. He and Gunn had had their moments, quite a few of them in fact, but he always respected Gunn's survival instinct and the way he fought with one hundred and ten percent every single time, no matter the circumstances, his feelings towards the fight, or any personal issues. And Gunn was a good guy, completely loyal.
"How do you know that Angel?" Wes asked. This was the most pressing issue.
Angel shook his head. "I had a vision."
Wes blinked. "You had a vision?" He demanded. Something fought for attention in the back of his mind, but it couldn't compete with the other thoughts that were currently front and centre. Wes had never lived a 24 hour period where so much had happened in his life.
"Yep. I've got a new admiration for Doyle and Cordelia." Angel said.
Wes took a small sip of his drink. "What was in the vision?"
"Gunn was standing in front of this bright light at first and then in front of a garden, really gorgeous, kind of tropical, a bit like paradise might be if it actually exists. He looked good. Like he was alive. But after a moment he began to sort of shimmer or flicker and then, just a few seconds before he left, he turned translucent. And he said…he said that there were still many miles to walk before this is over." Angel explained.
Wes frowned slightly. "I don't get it. How the hell did you get a vision?" He demanded.
Angel looked a little affronted but he stilled his expression quickly. "I've had one before. Cordellia came back and she kissed me and I had a vision. Its how I knew about all this…"
Wes swore under his breath.
"Jealous Wesley?" Angel asked. "Because let me tell you you're welcome to any future visions."
"Future visions. So you expect more?" Wes demanded.
Angel raised an eyebrow. "All right, spill. What's the deal?" He questioned.
Wes skulled his scotch, his eyes watering slightly as it burnt a trajectory down his throat and into his stomach. "I need to do some research. I better get back down to my office." He said, as he stood. He was desperate for a moment alone so he could think this through.
Angel nodded. "I'm going out somewhere. I need to see my son. For all he knows I'm dead." He informed his friend.
A few minutes later Wes shut the door of his office gratefully and leant against it. He flipped the light switch on as it was now fully dark. He guessed it was probably about ten at night but his watch had fallen off somewhere along the line, possibly in the fight with Vail. There was so much to do.
He crossed to his desk and picked up the nearest pen and paper and wrote, "1) prophecy, 2) explanation for today, 3) library, 4) Fred, 5) Scottish man/Council, 6) new voice, 7) whereabouts of friends and foes now."
Then he fell into his chair and sighed tiredly. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the red light was blinking on his office phone and the number "3" was on the screen. He pressed the button once and the dulcet tones of Lorne filled the large space.
"Hey Wesley. I'm sorry I couldn't do this in person but I just had to get the heck out of dodge. I'm about to board my flight to New York but before I leave I wanted to say goodbye. You're probably thinking I'm a pathetic excuse for a demon- the sight of blood's always made me feel squeamish and I'd much rather murder a Sinatra number than another person- human or otherwise. I should probably have told Angel all this but…for some reason I just couldn't speak to him. Before Lindsay died I read him. He didn't know although later, just before…it, he offered to sing for me. Maybe he hummed a tune after we did what we did, before I…did you-know-what, I'm not quite sure. But I learnt some interesting things. One was that Lindsay actually felt like he was finally atoning for all the shitty things he did in his life and like maybe he now had a purpose, helping fight the good fight. Two was a strange one, but you're the booky one, you'll figure it out, that there was a prophecy in play again. He didn't know what it contained but he kept thinking over and over the number three. It was written in bright red all over his body and clothes. Somewhere along the line Lindsay had learnt of this prophecy but not what it contained, just its very existence. And three was a little weird- he kept seeing an image of Cordellia. She was dressed up like those little dolls you put at the top of your Christmas tree instead of the star so I read her as an angel. But it was like she was trying to get to some place, trying with all her little heart, but that it was futile. And so instead she just kept blowing kisses. Over and over and over. I suppose that's just like Cordy to show love to everyone…anyway Wesley my flight is being called so I must go. I'm throwing this cell phone in the bin so you won't have any way of contacting me. And, at least for the foreseeable future, that's the way I need it to be. I just keep remembering Lindsay's face when I shot him. He said I couldn't do it, that it had to be Angel, he looked like I'd betrayed him- and perhaps I had- and just seeing the way he fell to the ground and went slack…God forgive me. I couldn't even offer him comfort or hold his hand and make up some lie about how he was going to a better place. I got the hell out of there straight away. I couldn't bear to watch the light go out of his eyes…So my English baby cakes that's it. I'm out. Done…Good luck and Godspeed."
Wesley reached out and replayed the message again. So Lindsay had heard about a prophecy containing the number three. It was probable that it wasn't so much the numeral as the symbol but the word trio. It was a pity Lindsay was dead and wouldn't be able to shed any light on where he'd heard the prophecy from.
And then there was the message about Cordellia. If he hadn't seen her so recently, up in paradise, he'd have felt sick at the idea of Cordy being stuck somewhere, trying so desperately to get somewhere else. But, as it was, he knew that she wasn't in any kind of hell dimension. He thought she was actually kind of lucky because she'd found true nirvana. That beautiful garden paradise was hardly the worst kind of place to spend eternity. Not like Lilah. Wes was annoyed at his thinking about Lilah Morgan now when she was one of the least of his worries. He could do nothing to help her, to bring her back from the hell she now inhabited and she'd forgiven him. She'd said as much and Lilah wouldn't say something like that if it weren't true.
All of a sudden Wesley felt cold as the thought that had been niggling in the back of his mind while Angel told him about the vision he'd had of Gunn and how Cordy had given him the vision that had lead them to this point right now, post apocalypse.
"Cordellia came back and she kissed me and I had a vision" was what Angel had said.
And the Cordy in Lorne's reading of Lindsay had continually blown kisses, over and over.
Wes reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key. He used it to unlock a small drawer under the top of his desk, above the other normal sized ones. He pulled the drawer out and exposed a key-pad where he typed a five figure number quickly. It made a sound a bit like on a television program set in prison where a cell is buzzed open. Wes stood up and walked over towards the window, but before he reached it he dropped onto one knee beside an oriental rug. He pulled the rug aside to show the metal door of a safe. He pressed his index finger to a biometric keypad and there was another buzzing sound as the door popped open. It wasn't an overly large space and it was filled primarily with papers and a couple of text books. Wes reached in and flicked through the first stack of papers until he found what he needed. He shut the door and replaced the rug and went back to his desk.
He unfolded the paper to look at the prophecy, complete with his signature in blood. Lilah had left him a copy. Of course it was hardly surprising that he knew the wording by heart- he'd studied it day in, day out for a few days before putting pen to paper and signing it. Maybe he'd just assumed he knew what it meant exactly- with Lilah's help.
The prophecy had specifically said that the Trio would stop the apocalypse to save two people. It had said the one with the visions; Cordy Wes had assumed, since Doyle was definitely dead and Cordy wasn't necessarily dead so much as being in a higher place as a higher power. And the champion, the human with a pure soul; himself Wes had assumed considering he'd been written into the prophecy a long, long time ago and would, by signing, save the world.
But maybe Wes was wrong.
He was still the champion, by virtue of the fact that he'd survived and the only other member of the team that could fit the human criterion, Gunn, had not. Angel and Spike were vampires, Illyria was a demon (at least currently, hopefully soon she would be Fred again) and Lorne was an empath demon.
But now, Wes realised with his mouth drought-dry, it was possible that Cordy wasn't the one with the visions mentioned in the prophecy. It was possible- very possible- that Angel was. He'd had two visions thus far, the first of which was passed from Cordy via a kiss just as Doyle had passed his gift (or curse as Cordy was wont to look at it as) to her. And Angel was alive and kicking and, not at least up to a few hours after the apocalypse, Cordellia was not.
The prophecy had been ambiguous on whether others would be saved but Wes tended to read it as suggesting that others could also survive were they able to fight, to hang on long enough for the Trio to step in.
The blinking light reminded him he had two more phone messages. He wondered whether he'd receive a voicemail or an email from the Trio saying welcome to our super-secret club, here is your key to the library hidden from everyone else. And a location to enter this uber-library might be helpful too.
The second message surprised him. He recognised the breathy, girly voice and the clueless brain behind it immediately but why the message had been left for him was a mystery. "Wesley? L.A's still here. So whatever it is you all did you must have, like, …circumcised the apocalypse. Could you maybe just do me this itty-bitty favour and maybe, like, convince Angel to re-hire me? I mean you're going to need a receptionist again aren't you? And, okay, I might have just, a teensy-weensy bit, like, betrayed him but I'm soooo totally sorry. I can't help it cos I'm blonde and all…And Hamilton was just such a good kisser. He reminded me of my little Spikey-wikey in the early days of our relationship when we were, like,… in-operable. Before he was all, like, must kill Buffy every day and night. So when you get Angel to, um…un-terminate my contract, that would be wickedly cool of you." Harmony's voice came from the speaker of the phone.
Wes frowned. He'd missed exactly what had happened between Harmony and Angel, Harmony and Hamilton, and Hamilton and Angel. He wouldn't have expected Harmony to betray them, but mind you she was no Einstein and he thought it more likely that she'd have accidentally spilled details to Hamilton in the relaxed state of post-sex. However Harmony didn't have a soul so betraying them wasn't too big a stretch of the imagination.
Wes pressed the button for the last message. "Oh hi. It's me again. Harmony Kendall. You know- the old and currently unemployed receptionist? I realised I didn't, like, leave you my cell phone number when I rang before. But…oh gosh I'm silly. It'll be on your caller I.D. And maybe my… personality form. My bad…um, so nobody's rang me back yet to tell me to come into work tomorrow. Maybe I should just come in anyway? But if Angel is still mad at me I'll look really silly. So it would probably be better if you or Angel ring me back soon and let me know when to come in to work. Thanks. Bye."
Wes shook his head.
The door to his office opened and, as Illyria came in, she belatedly knocked a bit too enthusiastically on the wood. "May I enter?"
"You already have." Wes replied dryly.
"I don't quite get the concept of knocking on the door, waiting awhile for someone to say enter and then going in. It seems a waste of effort." Illyria said.
"It doesn't matter." Wes said.
"But clearly I see it does. Gunn got most annoyed at me the other day for just going into his personal space." Illyria looked confused but then she shook her head fractionally and Wes almost saw the shift in her brain patterns. "I have seen Spike."
Wes exhaled with relief. "Oh thank God. And I never thought I'd actually be pleased to know Spike was all right." He said.
"But he was not all right." Illyria said.
"You just said-" Wes began. The relief that had flooded his system, prematurely it seemed, had vanished and instead he felt dread.
"I said I saw him. I did not say whether he was either alive or dead." Illyria interrupted.
Wes made himself take a deep breath and speak patiently. "Tell me what you saw and what he said."
"I was meant to be resting but I believe I am almost fully healed now so I got sick of lying there. I felt…what is the expression? At a loose thread?"
"At a loose end." Wes automatically corrected.
"Precisely. So I decided to find something to do. I went to the room that Spike and I have been using to fight in. I punched some of the bags, I practiced the kicks that Spike has been teaching me, oh and Wesley I am most sorry but I put a hole in the wall. Sometimes I am stronger than I think."
"That's not important." Wesley assured her.
"I disagree. In my time, in my home, it was very, very important to be strong. The strongest were those who ruled." Illyria disagreed.
"No I meant the wall is not important." Wes replied wearily. He decided that rather than spend the night with his books he'd go home and get some sleep first. Then, in the morning, he'd get to work. It had been such a draining day- both physically and emotionally. He wouldn't be able to help anyone if he burnt out.
"So you went to the fighting room and trained? Then what?" Wes asked, trying to get the woman back on track.
"Then Spike came. He didn't knock either. But then supposing he did not come through the door I think that is acceptable. He said "Hey Blue." Then he looked around and said, "So we won then?" I told him about the battle that was not really a battle. In my times if someone decided to rain down hail and fire it really was hail and fire. He asked who was alive and who was dead and I told him what I heard Angel say about Gunn. I found myself strangely upset about that Wesley. It is an emotion I've never really experienced until today when you were so…broken. And when Gunn was dispatched. And then Spike said he had to go, he only had a minute to say goodbye, and to tell you all to keep it fake." Illyria explained.
"Could he have said keep it real instead?" Wes asked.
Illyria considered that for a moment. As she thought she cocked her head slightly to the side and her brow furrowed with her concentration and Wes felt a sharp pang in his heart at the so very Fred-like expression on her face. There were times like this when he was reminded- usually painfully- that by taking over Fred's body Illyria had inherited some of Fred's characteristics. "Yes. He said keep it real."
"That was it?" Wes asked.
"Yes." Illyria replied. She came over to Wes's desk and sat on the spare seat. "I found myself upset at Spike's dying too. Why is that? I really do not like this feeling Wesley."
"I don't like it either." Wes said heavily. So now he knew. Now that the dust had cleared the scoreboards had come up with alive: 3 and dead: 2. Add to that the fact that Lorne had left town for good and suddenly this big building was feeling very, very lonely.
TO BE CONTINUED.