|
|
|
TITLE:
Tentative Steps
Tentative Steps Wesley watched Fred sleep,
restless as always. He stood in the doorway, knowing that any minute now she’d
wake screaming. It drove him crazy that he couldn’t ease the nightmares for
her, but they were a natural result of what she’d gone through. Today’s
incident with Gunn, and his own reaction to it, hadn’t helped matters any. I
should have spoken to him sooner, but that mess with the Nester demons came up.
Damn it, that’s no excuse. I still should have, Wes berated himself,
waiting patiently for Fred’s nightmare to wake her. She had just stopped
having these every night. Was it my yelling or what he did that set you back?
He sighed, allowing the events from earlier drift back into his mind. “Cordelia,
where’s Fred?” “Oh,
around. I think she went downstairs with Gunn.” Cordy answered with a distinct
lack of interest. I shook my head, sighing. Cordy’s interest in Winifred was directly related to what she could get out of the situation. I was quickly becoming fed up with the way she seemed to have reverted back to being... what had that nickname been… ah yes, Queen C, ever since Angel had gone on his little retreat. The only reason I would be glad to have him back after that was so Cordy would stop trying to be the alpha female in the hotel. Fred was no threat to her. Just because I’d made Fred my assistant, and she was a damned good one, was no reason for Cordelia to behave this way. Turning away from the front counter, I headed for the basement access, wondering what Gunn could possibly have wanted with my Fred. “That’s
it, Fred. Just like that, baby.” Gunn’s
voice drifted to me where I stood on the basement stairs. They weren’t in the
front part of the basement that we’d set up as a sort of indoor salle. Not
hearing her reply to him, I began to worry a bit. Those words could be
interpreted many ways and I didn’t want to take the wrong path without
evidence to back it up. I gathered myself, forcing a calm I didn’t feel and
began to creep across the basement, using all the skills gained in years of
sneaking through aging, decaying mansions to slip up on them unnoticed.
Hopefully, I was wrong in what I suspected. I wasn’t. I froze for
a moment at the scene before me. Fred’s tears and the way she gave a fearful
little whimper, almost like that of a puppy expecting to be kicked, made me take
action. I crouched on the floor, slipping a knife off the shelf I was hiding
behind and threw it with all the deadly skill I had acquired in the last three
years. It hit, with a satisfying thunk, right beside Gunn’s ear startling the
man into loosening his hold on Fred. I saw Fred scramble up from the floor,
racing away toward the stairs. I knew she was crying… and that I’d find her
hiding in the old ballroom in the abandoned south wing. As much as I wanted to
follow her, I knew I had to deal with this thing with Gunn now. Picking up my
crossbow, I stepped out of the shadows, raising the weapon and pointing it at
his throat. “How long?” “What?” “How long,
Gunn?” “Man, I
don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” “Don’t
make me any angrier than I already am. You’re taking advantage of her. You
have no right.” “Bah. She
wanted it. Came onto me. What? Ain’t givin’ her enough.” He took a step
toward me and I tightened my grasp on the crossbow, cocking it. “Don’t want
to share her, English. She your property or somethin’?” “She a
very ill young woman.” I took a step toward him, pressing the bolt against his
skin, intentionally nicking him. “You haven’t had to comfort her after the
nightmares, listen to her scream in remembered pain. Never do that to her
again.” One of those very screams jarred Wesley out of his memories and into the present. He waited just a moment, for her eyes to open, her voice meek and tentative as she called his name into the darkness, before he went to her side. “I’m here, Fred. It’s safe.” “Not safe.” Fred murmured, curling into Wes’ side. “Never safe. He was just like them. I thought he wanted to be my friend. Why, Wesley?” She snuggled into him, her head on his shoulder as she whispered her questions. “Why did he do that to me?” “Shh.” Wes stroked her hair, rocking her a bit. “I don’t know, love. Really I don’t. He won’t do it again.” “Promise?” “Promise.” Wesley laughed softly, resolutely fighting down his body’s reaction to her nearness, the way her breath caressed his neck. I am becoming so attached. Will I be able to let you go when the time comes? He could feel her starting to drift off and shifted intending on laying her back down in the bed before returning to his makeshift bed on the couch when she tightened her hold on him, whimpering. “Stay. You keep the monsters away.” Fred whimpered, pulling her head off his shoulder enough to blink up at him. “Please, Wesley. I know you won’t hurt me, not like…” she trailed off, unable to complete the sentence. “Alright. Let me go turn off the lights and finish locking up.” He slipped out of the bed, heading for the door and wasn’t entirely surprised to feel her following him, all but pressed against his back. Wes finished what needed doing in the living room quickly. When Fred whimpered at the sudden lack of light he carefully tightened his hold on her hand, whispering softly and delighting in her soft gasp as the cantrip caused a small ball of pale blue-white light to appear between them. With her delighted laughter accompanying them, he led her back to the bedroom where he waited for her to climb into bed, snuggling under the covers before following her. He’d no sooner lain down than she was scooting over, curling up against his side and resting her head on his chest. “Comfortable?” “Uh huh,” she murmured sleepily. He stroked her hair for a moment, whispering the
words to banish the light, and felt her tense for a moment before she relaxed,
drifting to sleep where she lay. It took far longer for Wesley to sleep. Too
tense and keyed up from the confrontation with Gunn, now tense from having her
so close to him and not daring to act on his developing feelings, Wesley had to
run through a few of his relaxation techniques in order to get any sleep at all,
much less restful sleep. *** Wesley watched Cordy and Gunn have a quiet talk in the center of the lobby. He had a bad feeling that he knew what they were talking about. Fred. Well, Cordelia, what will you do? Will you side with him or give her the benefit of the doubt? He waited and wondered what would happen. He was surprised at what did happen. “You son of a bitch!” Cordy’s snapping and slapping Gunn echoed in the office, just covering a soft sob from the shadowed corner in the back of the lobby. Wes was torn between finding out exactly why Cordy slapped Gunn and following Fred who’s sobbing dash across the lobby and into the bowels of the hotel stilled everything. Wesley opened the door, entering the lobby and being verbally assaulted by Cordelia. “This is your fault!” she snapped. “Everything was fine until you decided to keep her around. She’s unstable. Just look at her.” Cordy gestured toward where Fred had run off. “She’s seduced you, Gunn and Angel into thinking she’s innocent. But she’s got a vibe and I don’t like her!” Wes forced himself to take a calming breath before addressing her. “Cordelia. She’s a very ill young woman. Think about it, Cordelia. Just think of what might have happened to you if you weren’t ‘the cursed one.’” He glared at her, jerking away from her when she tried to reach for him. “You, yourself, compared Pylea to the US after the Civil War. Think about your history, about what happened to the slave women! You live through something like that and see if you come out of it easily and undamaged.” Stalking away toward where Fred had run off, he tossed one final remark over his shoulder at her. “She survived, Cordelia. The only way she could. Don’t you dare hold that against her!” He left the lobby, leaving a stunned and gaping Cordelia and a very silent, suddenly thoughtful Gunn behind him. He moved through the halls, quickly but quietly, forcing his breathing to calm and burying the anger beneath the concern for her. He was worried that she’d go somewhere else, somewhere unfamiliar, and possibly get hurt. He first headed for her usual hiding spot, the old abandoned ballroom. Reaching the double doors, he wasn’t surprised to find one cracked open, the faint sound of her sobbing echoing into the hall. He could barely hear her speaking over what sounded like a piano. There was a faint sharp pinging sound that he absently identified as he slipped through the door. C sharp, he thought, moving slowly across the room. Wes listened carefully to her words and wanted to cry at her rambles even as he worried over that pinging noise. “Bad... nasty… make people do bad things… deceitful…” Fred whimpered, sobbing and sawing at her wrist with the sharp wire she’d pulled from the piano. “Better dead… wouldn’t be an embarrassment anymore… won’t hurt anyone… he won’t be responsible for me anymore…be happy with her.” “Fred?” Wes whispered, trying to speak softly and not scare her. God, stop Fred. Please stop… you’ll hurt yourself badly. “Little one, it’s alright.” He crept closer to her, speaking soft nonsense to try to get her to focus on him and not what she was doing to herself. Hoping against hope that the distraction he made would get her to lose focus and stop with the wire. She blinked once at Wesley, then returned to her vague, disjointed ramble, though she did stop actively sawing at her wrists with the wire. “Dirty… dirty little whore… not even good at that… nothing… that’s what I am… nothing... not wanted…” “Oh, Fred,” Wes murmured, slipping to his knees beside her. He carefully reached for her, closing his hand around her wrist and squeezing lightly, just hard enough to get her to loose the wire. When she’d done so, blinking and staring at him, he released his grasp, pulling her toward him. “Little one, I’m so sorry. So very sorry.” Fred heard the soft, almost whisper, and blinked again. She gave a half-gasp, half-sob and lunged at Wes, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. “Make it stop… make it go away…” she whimpered, crying and gasping. “I wanna forget. Wanna forget it ever happened, be Momma’s innocent little girl again.” She rubbed her face against his chest, feeling his breathing, and tilted her head back to look up at him. “Can you make me forget, Wesley?” He put his hand on the back of her head, pulling her toward him and holding her as tight as she’d allow. “I wish I could, little one. I really wish I could.” He stroked her hair, the silky strands cool under his hand. “I wish I could give you that, but I can’t. Rest. It’ll get better.” Fred slowly relaxed, her tears slowing, and she drifted into sleep where she was curled into him. He shifted, the many times this very thing had happened over the past fortnight making it easy for him to lift her while rising from the floor. She snuggled her head into his neck, her breathing slow and easy as he turned toward the door. He was surprised to find Gunn in the doorway, looking sheepish as he opened the door farther to allow Wes to exit. The younger man started to open his mouth to speak but Wes forestalled him with a simple headshake, carrying Fred back through the halls to the main portion of the hotel. Once there, he carted her over to the office, laying the young woman on the sofa and covering her with his jacket. He stood for a moment, staring down at her, before heading back into the main lobby where Gunn awaited him. “I didn’t know, man.” Gunn looked down at the floor. “Why didn’t you say somethin’?” “I didn’t have a chance. I wanted to, but the Nester thing came up. I was on my way to speak to you yesterday when I caught you two. We both know what happened there.” Wes looked back to the office, keeping a sharp ear out for Fred. “All I could think about after your lecture was Alonna.” Gunn gathered himself. “That comparison you gave to Cordy. I know what you were talking about. The cheerleader probably doesn’t…” Gunn started to pace the lobby, keyed up and angry. This wasn’t something that he could fight, destroy. He’d created this mess himself. “Is she going to be alright?” “One day. I don’t know when,” Wes answered softly. “What you did to her and overhearing Cordelia… it’s set her back.” Wes settled into the chair closest to his office, watching the young black man pace the lobby. “She had one of those nightmares last night.” Wes shuddered, remembering that terror and pain-filled scream. “I hate those screams.” “Why?” “Why do you think?” Wes snapped. “They hurt her, Gunn. Likely very badly. I’ve been trying for days to get her to allow me to take her to a doctor. She won’t let me.” Wes glared at the man. Their impasse was broken by one of those very screams. Wes scrambled out of the chair, leaving a stunned Gunn behind as he raced to her. “Fred!” “Wesley!” she gasped, flinging herself off the couch and into his lap. “They’re coming for me, Wesley. They took her away from me. Killed her.” She clung to his shoulders, bursting into tears, sobbing painfully. “Who, little one?” Wes murmured softly. “Who’d they kill?” Wes looked over her shoulder at Gunn who was now watching mystified in the doorway. Fred crawled up Wes’ body in order to whisper in his ear, “My little Tatiana.“ She pulled back enough to blink at him, tears running down her face. “I broke the law. I was bad… couldn’t protect her. I tried. I tried so very hard. But they caught me… killed her. So busy killing her that I managed to get away. The rebels hid me for a while. Then I ran from them too. Went back to my little cave… only went to the camp for the winter that first year. I couldn’t do that again. I was losing me.” She buried her face in his neck, whimpering. “I lost me anyway.” Oh, my Lord, a child, Wes thought, shocked into silence. She had a child that those bastards killed. If it weren’t for the fact that going back there, or his leaving her for any real length of time, would finish the destruction that they’d begun, Wes would have been seeking out the hot spot to get to Pylea and kill every man who’d ever touched her. How dare they? he thought, his eyes rising from the back of her head to meet Gunn’s, seeing his same resolve reflected in the younger man’s gaze. Nothing and no one would harm her again… and those that did wouldn’t live for very long. “You’ll find you again. I’ll help you.” Gunn entered the office, crouching on the floor and softly calling her name. “Fred?” When she lifted her head, clinging tighter to Wesley, he drew in a breath, speaking quietly. “I’m sorry. I should never have done what I did. Shoulda known better. If my mother was still around, she’d beat me within an inch of my life for what I did to you.” He looked away, gazing out the office door into the lobby for a moment before turning back to her. “Wes is right. You need to see a doctor. I know someone who can do all the exams without the formalities of the hospital. Would you see her?” She looked from one man to the other, tightening her hold on Wesley and slowly looked down at the floor. “Is it that important to you, Wesley?” “It is.” “Then I’ll go.” “Gunn?” Wes asked softly. “On it. We’ll take your car. I’ll call her and let her know we’re
coming.” Intensely glad for something productive to do, Gunn rose from the
floor, escaping the tense atmosphere of the office for the lobby. He snatched
the phone off the counter, dialing a number from memory. “LaTasha? Charles
Gunn… I’ve got a patient for you…” *** Gunn watched Wesley. He’d been surprised when the man pulled a Luger pistol out of his desk, checking it over with very experienced hands before holstering it and tugging on his leather jacket to conceal the weapon. Man, I knew you were good. You’ve got wicked aim with that crossbow, but I never thought I’d see the day you carried a gun. Much less look as dangerous and powerful as you do right now. Gunn just watched Wesley as the older man leaned against the wall, his eyes hooded beneath his glasses, arms crossed on his chest. He gave off an air of studied casualness. The kind that if you were black and on the street guaranteed a questioning by the cops. Here, in this hidden clinic, his old ‘hood’s version of Caritas, all it did was give Wes a lot of respectful looks and guarded watching. I never thought I’d think this, but damn, English, where’d you learn this. It sure wasn’t in that hoity-toity university you went to, Gunn thought, eyeing the two others in the lobby, also waiting on news about a friend. You, an obviously moneyed white man, are getting the respect of the brothers--Accepted even. And you never noticed that they did just that accepted you as one of them. A killer, willing to do whatever was necessary to protect your brothers and your lady. I’ll never have to ‘escort’ you down here again. You can get the information yourself… got a rep without trying. Gunn saw movement from the corner of his eye--LaTasha coming down the hall, looking angry. Not good, not good at all, Gunn thought, speaking softly to catch Wes’ attention. “English?” Wes looked up and straightened away from the wall, dropping his hands and inadvertently showing the gun he carried. The other two men nodded to Gunn and Wes, stepping back and starting a low-voiced conversation. Gunn knew that by nightfall it would be all over the ‘hood. He now ran with a rich, but bloodied, white man who had no qualms about going about openly armed. Wes’ place as a leader was secured. “Gentleman, my office?” LaTasha addressed them, leading the way to a small room that functioned as her office. “First things first. Charles tell me you took care of the bastards who did this to her.” “They’ve been dealt with.” Wes spoke softly, his voice was low, cold and crisp, with more than his usual accent lacing it. “I take it things are as bad as I expected them to be?” LaTasha actually shivered at the sound of this man’s voice. From the way Charles calmly accepted that, not seconding or contradicting the statement, she knew that this man was the one in charge. She shifted her focus to him. “Yeah. Likely. She’s been… damaged… and that’s not even the best word.” She leaned back in her chair, eyeing the men in front of her. “It’s more a case of, she shouldn’t be alive. She must have a tremendous will to live.” “She does,” Wes stated flatly. He looked down for a moment then raised his eyes and stared LaTasha down. “Don’t dance around it. Tell me.” “She should be dead. From the scars, she went through a particular painful childbirth, followed fairly rapidly by what looks like several rapes. She’s also been beaten badly.” LaTasha coolly recited the facts and then looked away from the suddenly cold and steely blue eyes of the man in front of her. “I had to sedate her. She asked me a question that, when I answered, she didn’t react well to. I’ll save you the trouble of asking it as she’s obviously important to you.” She raised her eyes from the desk to meet his. “Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, your lady will never have another child.” Wesley cursed softly, making creative use of several languages that he knew no one in the room knew, before forcing all his rage away. That will be dealt with later; for now he had to help Fred. “What else?” “Other than that, she’s remarkably healthy, if undernourished. I’ve
drawn some blood for testing, but she appears to be fine. So unless there’s
something in one of those, she’ll physically be fine in a few hours when the
sedative wears off. As to emotionally, that I can’t tell you. From what I saw,
it could be months before she’s ready for anything other than the most casual
touches unless she initiates it.” Rising to her feet, she started toward the
door. “She’s in the last room on the right.” *** Wesley stood over Fred where she lay sleeping, reaching out a hand to carefully brush the hair off the sleeping woman’s forehead. My sweet girl, he thought. Why did this have to happen to you? No one ever deserves this, you most of all. He trailed his fingers down her cheek before slipping his arms under her to carry her. He settled her head against his shoulder, briefly resting his cheek on her hair before turning to Gunn. “Let’s get her home.” “Sure thing.” With Gunn leading the way, Wes carried Fred through the small clinic to where they’d left the car. Reaching the car, Wes leaned back against it, shifting Fred slightly so that he could pull his keys out. Tossing them to Gunn, he spoke softly. “You drive.” Gunn just nodded, reaching past Wes to open the door and assist him in climbing into the car. After Wes had settled, Gunn closed the door, circling it to the driver’s side and starting the car. As he pulled into traffic, he glanced up into the rearview mirror to check on the Englishman. Wes is taking this hard, Gunn thought, watching Wes rest his cheek on Fred’s hair and settling her in his lap. Do you love her, English? Is that it? You’ve never been like this with Cordelia. Right then he decided that he’d wait for Wes to speak, let him work out his feelings over what they’d been told before Fred awoke. Meanwhile, Wes settled Fred in his lap, resting his cheek on her hair and closing his eyes. He breathed deeply of her scent, a blend of her own light scent and the rose-scented shampoo she’d fallen in love with when they’d been shopping. Oh, my girl, no wonder you’re taking this so hard. I’m so, so sorry. He rubbed his cheek against her hair, dampening it with the tears he’d never shed in front of her as he needed to be the strong one, support her so that she would survive, become stronger. First thing, I do… you have to mourn her. You’ll never get past it until you do. The sound of the car engine shutting off caused Wes to raise his head from her hair, meeting Gunn’s eyes as the other man turned to look at him. “How you want to handle this, English?” he asked very softly. “I can walk back to the hotel…” He wasn’t going to mention Wes’ tears unless he said something first; men didn’t discuss such things. “No, take the car.” Wes shifted his grip on Winifred, preparing to get out of the car. “Just help me get her inside, then head back and lock the hotel down. You can pick us up in the morning.” “Sure thing.” Gunn turned around again, pulling the keys out of the ignition and climbing out of the car to open the back door for Wesley. He held it for the Englishman, absently steadying him when he almost fell climbing out. Shutting the door, he went ahead of them to open Wes’ apartment for him. Yeah, English. You protect her. She’s good for you. You’re relaxing into the boss role with her help. After Wes had moved past him, Gunn reached for the knob to pull the door closed. “Night, English.” “Night,
Gunn,” Wes replied absently as he lay Fred on the sofa. He again brushed her
hair off her face before straightening with a sigh and returning to the door to
lock up. *** Wes knelt on one side of the coffee table, watching Fred sleep and slowly shuffling the cards in the tarot deck that he’d picked up to give himself something to do. Considering Fred, he shuffled the cards one final time then began laying them out on the table. As the cards began to fall out, he blinked in shock. What had begun as a way to merely pass the time until she woke had taken a sudden and serious turn. He settled the tenth and final card into place, setting the deck aside and staring at what was before him. He sighed heavily, resting his hand on the central card. Even you can’t give her a break. Why does she have to suffer so much just to achieve happiness? he thought. Through suffering we are made stronger; a Watcher’s lady must be strong to face the darkness. The impression flitted through his mind, quick and light. The touch was
familiar, much cherished and long missed. He lifted his head from the cards,
closing his eyes and tilting his head back. I am no longer a Watcher. Who
takes her from me? You swore oaths
to Me. Would you foreswear them now? I have never turned My hand from you. You
are still My Watcher, as much a warrior in the cause as My brother’s chosen
Champion. Then let it be
as You will, Wes thought, drawing a steadying breath. She has held my
heart from the moment she smiled at me in Pylea. Do I have Your blessing then? You do, Watcher. She wakes. “Wesley?” The sense of presence left him, even as Fred’s soft whisper came from across the table. Opening his eyes, Wes focused his attention on her, absently gathering the cards from the table. “Yes, little one?” He stacked the cards neatly, wrapping them in silk before placing them back in the small, decorative box that he stored them in. Locking the box with a tiny, more decorative then functional, key, he rose from the floor with the box in hand to return it to the bookcase. “Are you happy now, Wesley?” Fred asked bitterly. “Did you have to do that to me?” “No, I’m not happy.” He turned back to her, leaning back against the bookcase and considering her in the slowly darkening room. “I wanted to be sure that you were well, if only in body. I didn’t even know about Tatiana until you told me earlier. I didn’t even suspect.” He crossed the room, kneeling beside the sofa and reaching a hand for her, dropping it when she flinched away from him. “How dare you?” she hissed, shoving him away and knocking him back on the floor. “You had to know. You had to!” “I didn’t.” “You did!” she cried, scrambling off the couch to straddle his waist and hitting him as hard as she could. “You did! You told! You arranged it! She was inconvenient!!” She was gasping the words out in low, soft cries, hitting him between each phrase. Wesley let her
hit him, slowly putting together the pieces. Dear god. And Cordy loves him.
He didn’t fight her. Let her work out her anger and frustration on him.
Finally she collapsed against him, sobbing hysterically. Only then did he feel
he had the right to wrap his arms around her, sitting up and pulling her into
his chest. Rocking her, he stroked her hair, murmuring soft nonsense in her ear
until she calmed again. “I’m sorry,” Fred murmured. “Really, I am.” She pulled away from Wesley, climbing off his lap to climb onto the sofa, curling into a small ball in the farthest corner of the sofa from Wesley. She stared at him with wide and scared eyes, shaking a bit as she wrapped her arms around her legs. Her voice when it came again was so soft and so scared, a tiny hint of a whisper, that Wes barely heard her. “Are you going to beat me now?” “Never,” he hissed. “Winifred, I’ll never hurt you.” He tilted his head, considering her carefully, then climbed from the floor. He started past her, drawing in a sharp breath when she cringed back from him. Forcing a calm he didn’t feel, he slipped down the hall to their bedroom, retrieving a small box that he’d kept despite being told that it held no meaning, a belief that had turned out to be wrong. Holding it in one hand, he carried it to the living room. He circled the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of her and considering her. She was hiding from him, curled in a tiny ball with her face behind her hair. He reached out a hand, tucking her hair behind her ear despite the way she cringed away from his touch. “Little one?” he asked, repeating the question when she refused to look at him. “Look at me, sweet.” He waited for her to meet his eyes before continuing, opening the box and pulling out the contents. Tossing the box to the floor, he carefully took one of her hands, slipping the gold ring he’d retrieved onto her forefinger where it was still a bit big for her, but would stay for now. Curling her fingers into her hand, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I swear to you, I will never hurt you.” He tapped the ring with a finger. “I want you to wear this to remember that.” “What is it?” she asked softly, blinking at him in surprise before turning her attention to the ring. “My Council ring.” Wes climbed onto the sofa, turning so that he faced her. How much can you accept, Fred? he thought, trying to decide what to tell her. Finally, he settled on the bulk of the truth. “Explaining the Council to you is something that should wait until you’re rested. Suffice it to say that by having that you have my protection. There are spells on that ring that will protect you, set by me and others.” He reached out carefully, stroking his fingers over her cheek. “You are very important to me. I will keep you safe, even from me.” Fred blinked again, staring at him in surprised shock. How did he know? Know that I needed this? she thought. Two weeks experience with Angel Investigations had taught her that the things in fairy tales were real, that a simple spell backed by true belief could hold off even Lords of Hell. As long as I trust and believe in you, this will protect me from you. You are a good man, Wesley. She uncurled from her corner of the sofa, reaching behind her for the hairbrush that she’d left on the end table that morning. “I understand,” she murmured, handing him the hairbrush and turning her back to him. “Thank you, Wesley.” Wesley released the breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding at this simple sign of her trust and belief in his promise. He took the brush from her, pulling the band off the handle and tucking it into his shirt pocket before he began to gently pull the brush through her hair. “You’re welcome, Fred.” He concentrated on his task for several minutes, the room silent save for their breathing. “Do you plan on taking a bath tonight?” “No…” Fred trailed off for a moment. “I just wanna sleep. I’m really tired all of a sudden.” “All right.” Wes set the brush aside, setting to work on braiding her hair so that she could sleep without strangling herself with it. “Would it bother you if I stayed up for a while? There are a few things I need to take care of.” He felt her tense, heard the soft, involuntary whimper and smiled. “I don’t wanna be alone.” “Very well.” Wes released her hair, letting it fall against her back. “Go. I’ll be there soon.” He watched her climb off the sofa, heading for the short hall to the bedroom. Their nightly ritual completed, Wes reached for the light, flipping it off and sitting in the dark for a long, silent moment. Protect her. Even from me, he prayed silently, rising from the sofa to follow Fred.
|
|
Disclaimers: All original material, including fan fiction, artistic renderings and essays on this and associated pages is copyright 2002 by Merzibelle. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, or any characters contained therein is intended. All photographs and caps have been taken from several sites, including but not limited to YesWes, Forums4Fans (where pictures are posted without notation as to original sites) and the WB. |
