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TITLE:
Broken Wings
Broken Wings “It’s Buffy.” Angel’s quiet voice answered Cordelia even as Wesley watched Willow rise from the sofa. So the Slayer’s dead, he thought somewhat callously. I suppose I should call Rupert, but I’m not in the mood to provide him with meaningless sympathies that we both know are only being done for politeness’ sake. Shaking his head, Wes half-turned to address Cordy and Gunn. “Why don’t the two of you head out?” “Wes?” Cordy asked in the developing silence, broken only by the sounds of Willow’s soft whispers to Angel and the creak of the stairs as the vampire and the witch headed up to Angel’s suite. “Go, Cordy.” Wes descended the stairs into the lobby, reaching toward the phone, already cataloging the things that needed to be done as rapidly as possible. “There’s nothing that you can do here. You probably want to…” “Change!” Cordy grabbed Gunn’s arm, dragging the young man out the door after her. “I’ll explain about Buffy while you drive me home.” Wes set the phone back down, undialed. He turned back to the lobby, staring blindly up the stairs where Angel had disappeared. Sighing, he turned to the young woman standing so nervously on the stairs. He saw the question in her eyes and knew with a sudden clarity that he couldn’t leave her here; she’d never come back to the world if given even a half of a chance at hiding again. “Fred?” When she turned, focusing on him, he smiled gently. “Let me take you back with me.” He crossed the room to join her, gesturing toward the doors to the hotel. “Angel’s going to be… busy for a while. There are things that need to be taken care of now that you’re back in Los Angeles.” Wes reached for the door, smiling gently at her as he held it open for her. Following Fred out the door, he rested a hand briefly on her back to guide her toward his car. “What things?” Fred giggled hysterically at the end of her question, looking at him quickly then darting a few steps away. Wes kept his smile as he led her to the car, unlocking it and holding the passenger door for her. He waited until she was settled into the car before closing the door. Circling the car, Wes gave a soft laugh. She’s like a broken-winged bird, defensive and scared. Climbing into the car, he reached forward to start it before addressing her question. “Well, we need to get you settled. We need to deal with the police as you were reported missing.” He saw her shrink into her seat and half-turned in his to face her. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.” “Promise?” “Promise,” Wes replied. Putting the car into gear, he pulled out of the Hyperion’s drive. “You’re safe with me.” Guiding the car through the late evening traffic, he thought about the things that needed to be done and who was best to contact about them. Kent and Rachel, he thought. Kent’s a detective. He can handle the police end. Rachel’s well trained, knowledgeable. Fred definitely is going to need her skills. The moderate drive from the hotel to his apartment passed in an almost companionable silence. Fred was content to allow Wesley to lead her. She was so confused. I don’t remember Los Angeles being this big. She shivered, worried and scared. Her “handsome man” had left her for that girl. She was alone. Fred turned wide brown eyes on Wesley. He said I was safe. I guess I can trust him. Angel did. Parking the car, Wes climbed out, absently locking his door before going around the car to open Fred’s door, offering her a hand to help her out. He expected her to release him as soon as her feet were back on the ground, so her clinging to him was a surprise. A pleasant one, but a surprise nonetheless. Still silent, Wes led Fred through the building to his apartment, unlocking the door and swinging it wide. He waited for her to enter, reaching around the frame to flip the lights on. As she darted about, clearly looking for a place to hide again, Wes closed and locked the front door. “My apartment. I couldn’t leave you at the hotel. I doubt Angel would have remembered that you were there.” Wes turned to watch her, leaning against the door. Fred had stopped in front of one of his bookcases, one slim arm reaching for the books. She had frozen when he’d spoken and Wes silently cursed himself for scaring her. The sight of her, with her very dirty, matted hair and the brief glimpses of pale skin he could see, reminded him of the first thing on his tentative mental agenda. Crossing the room, he took her hand in his and led her through the apartment. Stopping in front of the bath, he pushed the door a bit open, perversely glad that unlike Angel and Gunn, he liked to keep things as tidy as possible when he wasn’t researching. Fred’s soft squeal drew him out of his thoughts and he chuckled. “The towels are in that cabinet under the windows. I think there’s also a bit of bubble bath in there.” He watched indulgently as she ran into the room, rummaging in the cabinet he had mentioned, finding the towels and the bubble bath. “I’ll find something for you to wear.” He started to turn away as she set to work on filling the tub, but paused to look back at her. “Fred?” He waited for her to look at him. “I’ll help you comb out your hair when you’re done. All right?” After Fred had nodded, Wes left the bath, heading for his room, and started rummaging through his things. He’d definitely have to take Fred shopping as soon as possible. She needed clothes. Wes smiled as he neared the bath, hearing Fred’s yelp about the water being too hot. He tapped on the doorframe, waiting for her to acknowledge him before looking in. His smile deepened for she was covered to her neck in thick bubbles, yet was still blushing. He set the clothes he was carrying on the vanity. “I’ll be in the living room, making a few calls to set things in motion for tomorrow. If you need me, call.” *** Fred lounged in the tub. Clean. I can get clean. She was still trying to wrap her mind around that concept that she could get really clean, that she didn’t have to hide while she bathed, that she could take as long as she wanted. She closed her eyes, tightly, silently hoping that this wasn’t another dream. Yet even then she could vaguely hear the sounds of Wesley in the other room, talking to someone. The soft sound of his voice kept her focused on the present, on the warmth of the bath and the fact that after so long she could finally be clean. She looked around herself, finally finding the shampoo. Lifting it, she sniffed, breathing deeply of the scent before ducking her head beneath the water and setting to work on her hair. *** Wesley settled on the sofa, glancing down at the notes from his calls: appointments for tomorrow, tentative plans on settling Fred back into their dimension. He couldn’t believe Angel’s dropping everything. The vampire was leaving that night, heading first to Sunnydale with Willow for Buffy’s funeral then heading to a monastery that he knew of in Sri Lanka. He needs time. Winifred needs him. We need him. Once again he’s dropping his responsibilities in favor of his own needs. How am I supposed to trust him as an employee, if he does this at a moment’s notice? Wes was jarred out of his thoughts by a scared little voice whispering his name from the vicinity of the hall door. He looked up, smiling a reassurance at Winifred. She looked very much like a lost little child, wearing a set of his sweats that were so baggy on her they completely enveloped her. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and she clutched her hands together in front of her, staring at him with all the wariness of a beaten puppy. “Feel better?” he asked softly, pitching his voice low in an attempt to keep her calm. “Lots,” came the soft response. “Thank you.” Fred tried to keep her voice level, hoping that none of her fear and worry over what was going to happen to her now was showing in it. “It’ll be alright,” Wes hastened to reassure the young woman. “Come here. Let me help you with your hair and we’ll talk about what I’ve been doing.” Fred gathered herself as best she could, slowly, cautiously crossing the room to settle onto the sofa. She sat there for a moment, and then slid off onto the floor, sighing as she did so. Once on the floor, she curled her legs up underneath her and waited, waited to see what Wesley would do. “Comfortable?” he asked, reaching to tug the towel off her hair. He felt her tense, but continued the motion, lightly scrubbing at her hair before tossing the towel onto the coffee table. “I made some tea. I thought it would help you settle.” He reached over her shoulder, handing her a cup off the end table. He waited for her to take the cup, cradling it in her hands. Fluffing her hair in his hands, he picked up the comb off the end table and began to slowly work it through her hair. “I made a few appointments for tomorrow. Kent Mitchell is a detective with the LAPD. We’ll be seeing him first, to deal with the missing persons report on you.” “What… what do we tell him?” she asked softly. “I’ve already given him everything that he needs to know. I told him the truth and between us we came up with a reasonable public explanation that would satisfy the police. All you need to do in the morning is sign the statement. Then we can go and get your driver’s license renewed.” Wes was fascinated by the colors in her hair now that it was clean. It wasn’t merely brown, as it had first looked, more a burnished mahogany with a few red and blonde strands here and there. Sighing, Wes continued to comb her hair, carefully detangling what seemed to be years of tangles. “I also made an appointment for us with another friend, Rachel. She’s a psychologist who specializes in the unusual. I thought perhaps…” “No… no… won’t go,” Fred babbled, pulling roughly away from him and almost pulling her hair out as she moved so quickly. “Shh…”
Wes scrambled off the sofa, kneeling on the floor and slowly reaching for her.
“I won’t push then. Rachel will understand. We’ll only do what’s
necessary.” When she didn’t run from him, Wes wrapped an arm around her,
pulling her toward him and stroking a hand over her hair. “I understand,
little one. You’ll be safe. I’ll keep you safe,” Wes whispered repeatedly
into her hair as she curled into his body, sniffling and crying as all the
stress overwhelmed her. He was not surprised in the least to feel her go limp as
she drifted asleep in his arms. Moving slowly and carefully in order to not wake
her, he picked her up, carrying her to his bed and laying her down, pulling the
covers over her and leaving her to sleep. *** Wesley woke to the feeling of being watched and with a cramp in his leg. It wasn’t until he tried to stretch that the reason for the cramp made itself known. Why am I sleeping on the sofa? Wes racked his brain, trying to remember if they had a pending case. He opened his eyes, blinking in surprise at the closeness of a pair of deep chocolate brown eyes. “Morning!” She’s too cheerful! Wes thought with a soft curse, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses. Settling them into place, he stared at the girl crouched on the floor in front of him. “Good morning.” He tilted his head to one side, glancing at the living room clock. “You’re up very early.” “Couldn’t sleep. The monsters would get me.” Fred blinked at him, her eyes darting about the room with more than a bit of fear. “Felt safe here… where you are.” “Alright.” Wesley sat up, watching as she scrambled backwards to stay a bit away from him. “I need to get a shower and get dressed. Will you be alright while I do so?” “Dunno,” Fred replied, blinking a bit owlishly at him. She scrambled to her feet, following him into his bedroom, hopping onto the bed and huddling there while he gathered his clothes together. “You’ll hear me if I call?” “I’ll coming running.” “Promise?” “Promise.” Wes smiled at her, picking up the clothes he’d gathered and leaving her perched in the middle of his bed. He took a quick, though hot, shower, climbing out and drying off. He’d only managed to get half-dressed when the creak of the door caused him to look up from gathering his shaving things to catch a pair of frightened brown eyes peering around the door at him. He smiled, torn between doing the gentlemanly and proper thing or just reassuring her. Looking into her wide, scared eyes, Wes took the reassurance route. “Come in, Fred. It’s all right.” “Scared.” Fred edged around the door, sidling around him to perch on the edge of the tub, bracing her back against a corner of the wall. He blinked in surprise that she managed to draw her legs up in front of her, wrapping her arms around them. Wes considered her for a moment, then shrugged and went back to his morning routine. “What scared you?” he asked. He deliberately kept his voice even, knowing that the least wrong move or sound could send her scurrying away in fear. He dreaded what was going to happen if they ever had an earthquake or when one of the pop-up thunderstorms rolled through. “Just scared.” Fred blinked at him again, trying to figure out how to answer the question. “This is a dream, right? I’ll wake up soon and be in that cave and…” “It’s not a dream.” Wes set aside his razor, reaching lazily for a towel and turning to face her. Wiping his face off, he tossed the towel aside and reached for his shirt. “We’re back in Los Angeles.” “I’m sorry.” Fred blinked at Wes, watching him as he finished dressing. “I’m being a baby.” “No,
Fred.” Wes crouched before her, offering her a hand, and when she took it,
tugging her toward him. “You’re being human. It’s alright to be scared.”
He rocked her for a few minutes, allowing her to once again work out her
emotions. *** It was mid afternoon when Wes and Fred returned to the Hyperion to check in with the rest of the team. Shopping with Fred was definitely an adventure, Wes thought with a chuckle as he led the young woman into the building. He rested a hand lightly on her back as he guided her through the door and into the hotel’s lobby. She’s a nervous wreck. He could feel her shaking, yet she was determined not to show it. Looking at her, you would know how scared she was and I have no idea how to help her. I know how to handle painful visions, young men with chips on their shoulders and neurotic vampires. I was even trained in the theories of how to help people attacked… violated… by evil. But I have no idea how to get you settled. You don’t fit the patterns… except for one. One I hope I’m very, very wrong about. The lobby was deserted, which was a bit of a surprise, so Wesley led Fred across the room to his office, opening that door and watching her scurry for a chair, curling up in it while he went back to check the machine. “English… the crew’s got a lead on a nest that’s been munching on my kids. I’m going to check that out. Page me if you need me.” “Wesley, I’m going to Sunnydale with Willow and Angel. I’ll be back with Angel’s car on Friday. I’ll call if I have a vision.” “Damn it!” Wes snapped at nothing. “How am I supposed to run a business if the employees won’t act like employees?” “You can’t.” Fred’s soft voice came from his office doorway, where she was holding a book and flipping through it. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t have a job. And… I don’t wanna tell my parents what happened to me.” She looked down at the floor, shaking her head to allow her hair to hide her face. “Shoulda let them cut my head off. Been easier.” “No, Fred.” Wes crossed the room to take her hands, crouching in front of her so that he could see her face. “Then who would have helped us get home? I wouldn’t have been able to figure out the formulae alone.” He considered her carefully, eyeing her and thinking as rapidly as he could. “Little one, you should tell your parents that you’re safe. I’m sure they are worried about you.” “No. Can’t. I can’t… I’m not their little girl anymore. Can’t be. Not with what they did to me… what they made me do.” Wes listened to her babble, slowly processing it and fearing that every single thing that he hoped hadn’t happened to her had. Forcing down the useless anger, he pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her until she settled. “Shh… It’s safe. Do you want me to talk to them? Tell your parents that you’re all right, but just not ready to talk about what’s happened to you. That you need time?” He felt her nod against his shoulder, sniffling a bit and he chuckled softly. He pulled a handkerchief out, pressing it into her hand as he rose from the floor. “Give me their number. I’ll call them now.” *** She
sleeps like a child, huddled in on herself as if hiding from the monster under
the bed, Wesley thought as he
glanced up from the papers spread on his desk. After his call to her parents,
they had settled into a companionable silence, broken only by her occasional
questions as she read over a recent almanac. Five years hiding all alone in
that cave. I’m surprised you held onto your sanity, Winifred. Especially if
what I suspect is true. I have got to get you examined by a doctor. Find out for
certain that you are well… at least physically. When
Fred shivered in her sleep, whimpering softly, he rose, circling the desk to
pull an afghan down and cover her with it. He watched as she burrowed into the
cover, pulling it up under her chin, and started to rise to his feet to return
to finishing the paperwork for the cases that had just been finished, when she
whimpered again. This time it was clearly a word, no. Did something happen to
you? You’re afraid…. Wes thought, reaching out a hand and stroking her
forehead. “No,”
Fred whimpered, twisting in her sleep, caught up in dreams of Pylea. “No…
Didn’t mean it… Won’t do it again… Promise… I’ll be good…” Wesley
stared at her for a long moment, torn between waking her from what was obviously
becoming a nightmare and listening to see if he could determine what had
happened to her. He clenched one hand against his thigh, kneeling on the floor
and getting angrier by the minute. If it weren’t for the fact it was
another dimension, I’d hunt them down and destroy them for you, Wes
thought, forcing himself to relax as she came awake with a scream, her eyes wide
and scared as they settled on him before she scrambled off the sofa and into his
arms. He rocked her, feeling her warm tears against his neck, and stroked her
hair. “Can you tell me? What you dreamed?” he asked very softly. “Can’t.” “All
right.” Wes held her until her shaking began to calm, loosening his hold the
minute he felt her start to tense in his embrace. “Why don’t we head home?
It’s almost time to close…” “Where
is my home?” Fred asked quietly, curling her legs under her on the sofa and
watching him rise from the floor. “Do I stay here… with you... what?” “Do
you want to stay with me?” “Please.”
She looked up at him for a moment before dropping her eyes again. She could hear
him moving around the room for several minutes before he settled back into the
leather desk chair with a creak. She slipped off the sofa, crossing the room to
his side where she knelt on the floor, resting her cheek on his thigh and
carefully trailing her fingers up his leg.
“Can I stay with you?” She looked up at him again for a moment before
returning her attention to her hand where it was slowly creeping higher on his
leg. “I can…” Wes
caught her wrist, stilling her. “No.” He reached out, cupping her chin and
forcing her to look at him. “You don’t have to prostitute yourself to me in
order to stay with me. Who made you think that you had to do that?” “They
did.” Fred sat perfectly still. She knew what it meant when a man was angry
enough to hold a cow like that. She was about to get beaten. She knew it.
“Made me pay for my place by the fire in the winter when it was really cold
and before I knew how to store food and supplies.” She blinked at him,
carefully keeping her eyes lowered so as to not anger him. “The rebels
wouldn’t allow anyone in their camps who couldn’t provide something of
value.” Wes
cursed, soft and low, in several languages, not all of them human. He
unconsciously tightened his hold on her wrist, only releasing it when he heard
her whimper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He rose and then
tugged her from the floor. “Look at me.” He waited until she forced her eyes
to meet his. “Winifred, I will never require payment like that from you for
anything. I told you that you were safe with me. I meant it. Understand?” Fred
stared, slowly processing the information and nodded once. You’re a good
man. You’ll protect me, she thought, stepping back to allow him to come
out from behind the desk. “Wesley?” she asked softly. “What am I? I mean,
what is my place here?” “And
by here I assume that you mean the company?” Wes asked, stacking a few folders
on the desk and tucking away a few misc. objects. “Whatever you want it to
be.” He chuckled softly, picking up the light jacket she had picked out during
their early morning shopping venture, holding it out to her and waiting for her
to slip it on. Settling the coat on her shoulders, he picked up his keys and
cell phone, tucking them away as he pulled on his own coat. “I can tell you
this much. I wish I had a proper assistant.” Fred
blinked and then smiled, following Wesley through the lobby and out to his car.
“Can I do that… be your assistant?” “If
you think you’re up to it,” Wes replied, unlocking the car and holding the
door for her to climb in. “You’ll have to reorder the files. I still
haven’t figured out Cordy’s system, even after two years.” “I’ll
try.” Fred carefully put on her seatbelt and waited for him to circle the car.
As he started it, she turned a bit in the seat to watch him. “I don’t want
to be a burden to you.” “You
won’t be,” Wes answered, taking his eyes off the road long enough to smile
at her. “You just concentrate on getting well. We’ll take everything at your
pace.” “Will
I get well?” “When
you’re ready, you’ll fly from the nest you’ve created with me, finding
your own place in the world.” Wes shook his head with a rueful laugh. Good
one Wesley. Confuse her with bird analogies. “But
my wings are broken,” she murmured, looking down at her hands where they were
clenched in her lap. “I’m just a little broken-winged sparrow, not a
graceful swan like Cordelia.” Wes stopped the car at a red light, turning in his seat to face her. Draping one arm over the steering wheel and reaching the other out to her, he tilted her chin up to get her to meet his eyes. He stroked her cheek with his thumb for a moment before smiling. “Sometimes, Winifred, the little brown sparrow is far prettier than the swan.” He saw the question in her eyes, his smile deepening as he returned his attention to the road. “The swan is the lord of his pond, yes. But he doesn’t adapt well to change, wanting everything to stay the same. The little sparrow knows the value of change, of how being the drab one can help him hide from those that would destroy him.” Pulling to a halt before his apartment building he again turned to her. “It’s not that your wings are broken, just bruised and tattered. You’ll be well again. Promise.” The soft, tremulous smile that she gave him as he came around the car to open her door for her warmed his heart, as did the way she gently squeezed his hand as they headed for the apartment door.
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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. |
