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Needed	By : abra Category: Angel the Series > Het - Male/Female > Faith/Wesley Views: 1836 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS, nor make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

I have also borrowed several ideas and concepts from to J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books, I used some in this chapter, some will be in the rest of the story. (the magical selection into Hogwarts, the mirror of Erised, the Room of Requirement)
Timeline: more than 9years after "Not Fading Away" ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

Making up names - not my forte. I looked through name generators and sites that explain the meaning of names. Making up myths � even more of a problem.

Chapter 7

Wesley looked at Faith's retreating back with a trace of remorse. He looked down at the file, looked up at the sound of the closing door, and then sat back at the desk. He pushed up his glasses with one finger, and opened the folder.
The Sunnydale High assistant librarian in him shuddered when he saw that the first item was a page torn from what appeared at first glance to have been a very ol manuscript. Beneath the yellowing parchment, he found another page, with the typed translation. He looked at it for moment, then stood up and looked in the library for a dictionary. He went back to the desk with it and began reading. He chose to read the original, getting passed his automatic discomfort of seeing a mangled manuscript, and only occasionally looked at the translation to check certain words. The title of the first page was "The Story of Erised".
The Story of Erised
It was the year of the Wolf when the mighty clan of the Silver Moon had to prepare for war. They were led by Stellador, the great Warrior King. He had been a great chieftain, but he was too advanced in years to carry the sword of war.
Stellador was as wise in his old age as he had been fierce in his youth. He had prepared his two sons, Erised and Nosaer, to rule after him. The youngest, Nosaer, was wise and careful, and the king had prepared him to rule in time of peace. The oldest, Erised, was strong and brave, and the king had trained him to rule in time of war. But no matter how much the king loved his two sons, he had to be sure that his people had the best leader in the coming war, even if he was not of his blood.
Among the people of the Silver Moon, there were only two men who could compete with Erised in strength and courage, Theron, the hunter, and Dolius, the shepherd. Between these three men, king Stellador had to make his choice. All three of them passed every trial the king could think of. As a last resort, the king asked the three to enter the Rubicon Caves. Of all the men who had entered them from the beginning of time, only Chand, the son of the Moon Goddess had come out.
A guard of honor, made up by the most upstanding men in the kingdom, accompanied the champions to the entrance of the caves. The three champions went their separate ways through three tunnels that started from the main chamber. They went into the depths of the unmapped caves without food or water, only with the clothes they were wearing and the weapons they were carrying.
The guard waited for the exit of the champions. After two days and two nights, Erised came out of the caves. The guard waited ten more days and nights, but neither Theron, nor Dolius came back.
Erised was taken back to the capital where he received the crown and the sword from his father.
Wesley looked up abruptly when he heard the door opening.
"We have to go into town," Faith said. "One of my sources just called me. He has something on this damn darkness thingy."
She hurried past him to grab her old backpack that rested once again at the foot at the desk. Wesley grabbed a crossbow off the wall, strapped the hidden blade on his forearm and put on his jacket before hurrying after her.
He had to shake his head to dispel the nausea caused by this sudden motion after the concentration of reading the arcane lettering and simultaneously translating. He was still trying to figure out what that story had to do with Alex, when he realized they were alone. They were near the car when he asked Faith:
"Isn't Spike coming?"
"Marty can't stand him. And he can smell vampires a mile away."
"You're not taking me on a long walk off a short pier by any chance?" Wesley asked, getting in the passenger seat.
"Not evil anymore, remember?" she said without as much as looking at him.
"I remember. I remember everything," he murmured to himself.
"Yes, I know. Spike told me you've been talking about having broken an Orlon Window."
"You know about them..." Wesley said, sounding more than a little impressed.
"Looked for one for ages. Wicked complicated magick. And damn near impossible to find."
He looked at her surprised.
"Why did you need it?"
"Just wanted to check something. You'll see after you finish reading the file."
"Dammit, Faith, why won't you just tell me?"
"I can't talk about it, OK. It took you being a complete bastard to make me even give you the file."
"Do you still need an Orlon Window?"
"You're fishing for answers, Wes," she said, and he could almost make out an approving grin on her face. "No, I don't. Willow did a spell."
Wesley watched her jaw tightening at the memory. He had a sudden insight, as if the little pieces of the puzzle were coming together, even though he couldn't see the whole picture yet.
"You were wondering if your memories about having Alex were fake," he said.
She remained silent, but he as much as heard her answer. He could just about begin to imagine what hell must have been for her, wondering if she was Alex's mother.
"Faith..." he began, unsure what he could say.
"We're here," she said, and pulled the car over. "Marty has a crypt that way," she said, and pointed toward the northern side of the graveyard.
They got out of the car, and walked in silence through the deserted cemetery.

~~~~~~~
Faith and Wesley realized it was a trap at the same time. That is, too late. They heard the crypt door being bolt shut behind them. A huge slimy demon that seemed to have come out of the wall remained by the closed door. The flickering candles on their right were the only source of light in the chamber. Four vampires seemed to materialize from the coffins scattered around the crypt.
"Sssslayer," a voice hissed from the dark.
"Hey, Marty, what happened? Did you bite your tongue or something?" Faith asked with insincere concern.
Wesley stood by her, surreptitiously cocking the crossbow.
"Sassssy," the voice sibilated again.
"All right, Daffy Duck, who the hell are you and what do you want?"
"Your blood, of courssse."
The answer was not meant to reassure, and Wesley felt the hair on the back of his neck standing straight. He was developing hackles, he thought vaguely, trying to map the room for the best defense. He had never actually fought by Faith's side before, but from everything he knew about her, she hated being on defense. He would just have to watch her back as best he could.
"You do look anemic," Faith said to the darkness. "Slayer blood would do you a world of good. Too bad you're in for a world of pain. Hello, boys!" She nodded amiably to the vampires, stake miraculously already in hand.
"You should have come alone, Ssslayer," the shadow hissed.
"Yeah, right, and I should have worn stiletto heels," Faith quipped, and put the stake through the heart of the nearest vampire.
The arrow twang through the air near Faith, and a second vampire turned to dust in front of her. Wesley was a good man with a crossbow. The dust of the disintegrating vampire hadn't yet settled on the floor when a new figure emerged from the darkest corner of the crypt. Wesley.
Wesley saw Faith turning her head toward him incredulously.
"It's a glamour, Faith. Keep your focus!" her Wesley said sharply, and the shouted warning cost him a second's distraction, which kept him from dodging the demon's heavy blow. He heard the unpleasantly dry noise as the punch smashed into his cheekbone.
Faith was still fighting the two remaining vamps while the other Wesley advanced toward her. Wesley saw that her own attention was wavering, as one of the vampires smashed Faith's ankle stomping on it hard. She roared in pain and staked him in one swift, angry movement. She switched the stake in the left hand, and got out the silver bladed dagger she had strapped to her thigh. She limped toward the second Wesley with the dagger in her right hand. The last vampire jumped at her, and Faith threw the stake straight through his heart without paying it much attention, her focus completely on the second Wesley.
Faith looked into his eyes, and despite the danger, despite all her experience and training, she lowered the dagger. "Wesley" moved so fast that he managed to get two slashes across her belly before she reacted. When he moved his arm for the third cut, Faith grabbed it and plunged the dagger in his forearm, near the elbow, and pulled it roughly through his flesh all the way down to his wrist.
"Wesley" howled in pain, and flayed his left arm trying to punch her. She left the dagger in the bloodied wrist that she was still holding in an iron grip, and blocked the blow with her right arm. She propped her weight on her uninjured ankle, steadied herself on her opponent's arm and kneed him forcefully in the groin. When "Wesley" doubled over moaning piteously Faith pulled out the dagger from his wrist, and swung her right leg up fast, her tibia connecting loudly with his ear. "Wesley" had toppled over with the force of her blow, Faith kicked him a couple more times before jumping with her knees on his chest.
She thrust the blade into "Wesley"'s neck.
"The darkness is coming. Is coming for you, Sssslayer," the creature gurgled through the blood sloshing from his neck. Wesley's features were slowly fading, morphing back into a reptilian looking face.
Wesley caught a glimpse of Faith plunging the dagger where she hoped the creature's heart was, just for good measure. He was having a hard time resisting the demon's onslaught. He was barely able to parry about half of them, and he could feel himself grow weaker by the second.
He had fallen to his knees when he saw Faith coming to his aid. She limping, and she was pressing her left arm across her stomach trying to stop the hemorrhage. Her shirt was torn and almost completely drenched in blood. He took a hard kick in the chin that threw him against the wall. The demon put his hands around Wesley's neck and began squeezing. Then the pressure eased, and it fell like a heavy, slimy, demonic curtain.
Faith kneeled next to him, and, to Wesley's concern, her gaze seemed unfocused. She reached out toward his face. Her fingers touched lightly his swollen face.
"Wes... what happened to your glasses?" she asked, sliding gradually into unconsciousness.
"Faith! Faith, wake up!" he yelled hoarsely at her, instantly forgetting everything that was broken, smashed or hurting inside him.
She opened her eyes slowly, as if her eyelids were unbearably heavy.
"Please, Faith, stay awake! Stay awake for me," he pleaded.
"For you," she said, smiling vaguely.
"Faith!" Wesley shouted again.
When he saw her eyes were beginning to close he slapped her with all the strength he could still muster. He was relieved to see her eyes snapping wide open.
"Let's get out of here," she said.
They helped one another to stand up, and hobbled together toward the locked door.
"I have something in the backpack to open this," she told Wesley, looking at the heavy lock on the door.
"This backpack of yours has everything," Wes said, rummaging through the rucksack he had dropped conveniently close to the door.
He handed Faith the thin wire, and watched her jiggle it in the keyhole. It took her only a few - rather hesitant, he noted - movements to open the lock.
They walked out of the cemetery as fast as they could. Wesley got in the driver's seat. His heart sunk at the sight of his Slayer's head loll to the side in the passenger seat. She had lost a lot of blood, and he could see, even by the pale moonlight, that she was still bleeding.
"Faith!" he called sharply. "Look at the road. I can't see very well. You have to guide me."
She opened her eyes, and looked at him drowsily. He probably looked like shit, Wesley thought, because as soon as she took a look at the swollen flesh around eyes, she seemed to focus, and turned her gaze to the road.

~~~~~~~

Spike was dressing Faith's injuries, and from the look he had just given him, Wesley was not welcome. He got out of Faith's room and walked slowly down the corridor, intending to grab an icepack from the kitchen before heading back in the main office.
Wesley stopped for a while in front of Alex's room. He was worried about the boy's reaction to the news of Faith's injury. He must have seen his mother hurt before, but he still wished he could have spared the boy another experience of this kind. If he had to be completely honest - and Wesley always had to be honest with himself - he hated that Alex might think less of him because he had been unable to protect her. Alex had to know that his mother was hardly someone who needed protecting, but he was just a little boy. A little boy whose mother had gotten hurt.
He considered heading to his room and sleeping the pain off, but the file he had abandoned in the top drawer of the desk was drawing him irrefutably.
Wesley sighed as he sat at the desk, took out the file, opened it, closed it again, and stood up. He put the file under his arm, and shuffled back to Faith's room where he was greeted by Spike's icy stare.
"You should have a look around. I didn't see anyone when we came back, but I think it would be wise to check," Wesley said, ignoring Spike's silent anger. "I'll stay here with her," he added, and flopped rather than sat in the only chair in the room.
Spike stood up from the edge of the bed where Faith was sound asleep.
"We'll talk about this," he said in a harsh whisper.
Wesley nodded. They had to talk about it. Later.
Spike took another worried look at Faith before he left. Wesley could feel the vampire's concern. It was probably as deep as his love for her. Wesley refused to think about it.
He had just opened the file, when Faith moved in her sleep making him look at her. Her hair was splayed on the pillow, she was incredibly pale from the loss of blood, and she seemed utterly vulnerable. The flashback hit him like a lightning strike, the image of Fred's last hours superimposed on the scene in front of him. The pain was so intense that he could no longer breathe. It wrapped around his heart tightly, as a funeral shroud. The sound of the papers falling to the floor brought him gently back to reality.
He winced when he knelt down to pick them up. He gathered them and placed them on her vanity. He scratched at his side absentmindedly, while trying to figure out if he had messed up the order too much.
He dared to take another look at Faith before sitting back down. Fred's image no longer came up from his subconscious. He opened the folder again, and this time nothing interrupted him. He had gone through the entire content before falling asleep.
Wesley startled awake at the touch.
"What..." he croaked.
Faith was standing in front of him, her hands unbuttoning his shirt.
"You're bleeding, you stupid idiot," she informed him. "Come on, now that you're awake, go sit on the bed, and take off your shirt."
He obeyed her command.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking at the purple spots on the bandages visible under her T-shirt.
"Probably better than you. Slayer healing, remember?" she said.
She began cleaning the deep scratch on his side. The alcohol burnt him, and he hissed in pain. He felt Faith's hands freeze for a second. He made sure he didn't make another noise no matter how much her ministrations were hurting him.

~~~~~~
To be continued...
- 6
- 7
- 8
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