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Needed	By : abra Category: Angel the Series > Het - Male/Female > Faith/Wesley Views: 1834 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS, nor make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
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.

Timeline: about 9years after "Not Fade Away" ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

Beta: Dave

Chapter 1 - Resurrection
Wesley could feel life leaving him. He fought the all-encompassing numbness and looked through blurred eyes at Fred's beloved face.
"I love you," he whispered.
And suddenly, the world seemed to hiccup.
"I love you," he heard himself repeating the phrase.
He didn't have time to notice that the pain, the numbness and the haze were gone when a familiar voice replied.
"Very flattering, mate, but I don't swing that way."
"Spike?" Wesley wondered aloud.
The peroxide vampire had a huge grin on his face.
"I'll be buggered! It worked!" he exclaimed.
"What happened? Where am I?" Wesley inquired, but he didn't wait for answers. "We have to go to the hotel. The others are waiting for us."
Wesley started to walk toward Spike when he hit an invisible barrier.
"What�? " He began, but his voice trailed off as he took in the surroundings.
"A little late for that, mate."
The vampire's unusually serious voice caused Wesley to look up from the markings on the floor. His mind worked with lightning speed.
"You conjured me. From the dead. I was dead. Who else survived apart from you? How much time has it passed?"
"More than nine years. Not sure if any of them survived."
Wesley closed his eyes but he could never escape reality. It was his skill and his curse.
"What do you mean you're not sure?"
"Portals. That's how it all ended. Lorne came back. He opened several portals at once. The monsters were torn apart between them. I held on and when it was all over everyone else was gone."
"So they're alive. In other dimensions."
The vampire shrugged, and just for a second he looked very old.
"Nine years. Haven't you looked for them?"
"It's not like I can do a google search to locate them."
Wesley's shoulders slumped. He did not want ask the next question. So he asked another one.
"You think you still need the circle of containment?"
Spike looked past his shoulder.
"We weren't a hundred percent what we'd bring over."
"We?" Wesley asked and turned around.
Spike started to kick off the redbrick dust to break the circle but Wesley didn't move away. He looked at Faith who was aiming a crossbow towards him although she didn't seem poised to shoot.
"Hello, Wesley."
Her voice sounded scratchy as if she hadn't spoken for hours.
"Faith," he acknowledged her and knew he could no longer postpone the question. "Why have you brought me back?"
"We could use your help," she answered in a mundane tone.
Wesley was still staring at Faith when Spike patted his shoulder genially.
"Major trouble, impending apocalypse, you know the drill," he informed Wesley. "Fancy a pint?"
Faith was still holding his gaze steadily. Wesley wondered what she was waiting for to put away the weapon. She had obviously made her agreement known to Spike before he broke the circle of containment.
"Scotch," Wesley demanded.
"This way," she said, and turned around to lead the way.
"You have to bring me up to speed. Nine years is a long time to be dead."
"We've prepared a file for you. We're very thorough nowadays. But we can give you the highlights while you get your liquid lunch," Spike said.
The three of them left the large hall, went through a long corridor and entered a makeshift kitchen. The two men settled around the table while Faith busied herself with some dishes. Spike poured Wesley a triple whiskey and opened himself a beer.
"After our big anti Wolfram and Hart crusade, I wandered around for a while, ran into Faith and we sort of stuck together. We were relic hunters-slash-demon fighters, but we were making too much money, so we decided to do something less lucrative. We got ourselves saddled with a bunch of Slayers. That was about six years ago. We settled here and took over training Slayers."
The constant use of "we" was not lost on Wesley, but he wasn't quite ready to go there yet.
"Slayers?" Wesley raised an eyebrow.
"Yep. The whole 'in every generation there is only one Slayer' concept is pass�, remember?."
"Watchers' Council?"
"We're sort of cooperating, but we parted ways some years ago."
"They're trying to keep up the same old rules even though the game has changed," Faith informed him from across the room.
"A bunch of miserable sods who have their heads up their asses," Spike contributed.
"Language!"
Wesley's eyebrow shot up again. He looked at her in shock. Had Faith just censored Spike's foul mouth?
"He's not even here," Spike complained.
Faith put the plate of sandwiches in front of Wesley. His hand hovered between the glass of whiskey and the plate, but Faith's glare made him reach for a sandwich.
"Who isn't here?"
"You'd better read this," Spike said, pushing a folder in front of Wesley.
He liked files. Files were good. No matter what horrors they described, the mere fact that they were captured on paper was comforting. And horrors he found. Another Hellmouth. More prophecies. Impending doom. Quasi-unkillable monster. As Spike had said; "the drill".
"I can't help wondering why you needed me. You survived for six years on a Hellmouth. You must have faced threats like this at least once a year."
"Because this big bad dude can only be killed by magical fire."
"Yes, I read that. But why me? Any witch or wizard can do it," he insisted.
They exchanged another silent look and Wesley couldn't help feeling left out. They had shared almost a decade of fighting side-by-side; this kind of bond was only to be expected. He wondered if they were sharing anything else. With Spike's track record it was almost a foregone conclusion. He was surprised that, even through the thickness of his misery, he could be jealous of anyone who had this level of intimacy.
"We didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Things have changed."
"After our glorious showdown with Wolfram and Hart, most of the bad guys started fighting each other in order to climb to the bottom," Spike continued her explanation. "Our side sort of relaxed. You know what the venerable Council of Watchers does first when a demon surfaces? They inform two other demons about it and sit back watching the carnage."
"Divide and conquer. What's wrong with that?"
Faith and Spike did that shared looked over him again. He was finding it more and more annoying.
"You're still a Watcher, man," Spike said. "Don't you get it yet? It's always about the fight, not just the result."
"Civilians get killed sometimes. And lately there are less and less warring factions. The evil got structured again. Maybe not Wolfram and Hart organized, but it's not the wild west anymore," Faith concluded.
"You're not gonna wuss on us now, are ya?"
"Of course not," he said softly.
Wesley took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Everything was still hurting. He didn't need to check the scar on his neck. He could feel the extra tightness of the skin around that area. All his injuries were present, except the knife Vail had thrust in his gut.
"Where are the Slayers?"
"They're in school. They should get back any minute."
"We had to use the long version of the ritual since we didn't have a magician to do it," Spike said.
"You do now," Wesley said, surprising himself as much as them.
He took a bite out of his sandwich to cover his embarrassment. The taste of it shocked him. It was his favorite combination. He lifted the top loaf of bread and looked at its contents. It was perfect. He hadn't had one in about ten years. He raised his eyes, trying to understand something from Faith's expression, but the young woman had her back to him. Wesley made a conscious effort to find clues whether he was dreaming what not. It was real. Strange as could be, but real. He debated silently if he should ask Faith how she knew, but decided against it. He stood up and addressed them.
"Where are the books? I want to do some research."
Spike opened his mouth to answer him but the arrival of a boy interrupted him.
"Mom, Spike, I was picked up for the baseball team!"
The boy stopped dead in his tracks noticing the stranger. Wesley registered his words at the same time as he took in the change in his behavior. The enthusiasm had disappeared instantly, being replaced by wary expression that made him seem a lot more mature.
"This is Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. He was my Watcher," Faith said.
The boy walked toward the Wesley and extended his hand.
"Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, I am Alexander Lehane. Everyone calls me Alex."
"Wesley," he managed to say and shook his hand.
"May I be excused?" Alex asked his mother. "I have a lot of homework to do."
"Sure thing, hon. I'll call you when dinner's ready," Faith told him.
West his gaze flickered between mother and son. The boy was obviously used to leaving adults to discuss business in private. Faith's son. His brain started spewing questions and theories with dazzling rapidity. The shadow of fear in Faith's eyes interrupted the flood. For once, she hadn't looked at Spike for comfort or advice.

~~~~~~~
To be continued...
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- 2
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