Title: Unforeseen (6/?)
Author: Fia Reynne
Fandom: Angel
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: pre-Angel/Wes, pre-Buffy/Xander
Summary: (AU) Cordelia succeeds in passing the visions on to Wesley (Parting Gifts, 1.10) and his body doesn't handle the trauma with nearly as much grace as hers would have.
Disclaimer: Joss thunk them all up, I just play with them when I'm bored.

( Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five )


"That settles it," Angel said, crossing his arms.

"I beg your pardon?" Giles asked. "Nothing has been decided, Angel. Right now I suggest we get Wesley to the emergency room; he's lost rather a frightening amount of blood. Does he get these nosebleeds often?"

"Sometimes after a vision," Angel confirmed. "But never like this. Just a trickle, you know? Enough to scare the hell out of me but not enough for him to pass out. Jesus, why is he still bleeding?"

"It's slowing," Willow said, dabbing at Wesley's face with a nearly blood-covered handkerchief. "That's a good sign, right?"

"It would be," Angel frowned, "if his heart wasn't, too." He knelt beside Wesley, placing a hand on his cheek. "Wes? Can you hear me?" Wesley's eyelids fluttered, but remained stubbornly closed. "Giles, you have to let me do this. I can't lose him."

~*~

It was dark. Wesley knew that wasn't a good sign; when you died, if you were going to a better place, there was a light for you to walk towards. At least that's what he'd always heard and assumed to be true. That could really only mean one thing, and while he'd certainly done some sinning, he couldn't think of anything particularly nasty that would condemn him to an eternity of fiery punishment.

But then, he didn't see any fire or brimstone, so perhaps it was to be purgatory for him.

Wesley was angry. There were so many things he'd wanted to do with his life while it was still his, though he couldn't seem to think of any at the moment, apart from exploring whatever this... thing was with Angel. They were inches away from a solution, too, he could feel it. But he had nothing with which to bargain for his life.

"It was a mistake," a voice said in the darkness. "Humans are not meant to be vessels of the Powers."

"I gathered that much," Wesley muttered. "Contrary to overwhelmingly popular belief, I'm not a fool. So, what then? I die, and it ends with me?"

"It is not your time; your purpose has not yet been fulfilled."

"Wonderful," Wes said dryly. "Can I go back, then?"

"All things in due time," the voice answered. "You cannot rush that which is not in your control."

"Bloody-minded, cryptic..." Wesley grumbled. "How much longer?"

There was no answer.

~*~

"Friends fall in love," Buffy echoed, suddenly very aware that Xander's face was only inches away from hers... and he had a girlfriend.

Xander scooped the last bite of ice cream out of the carton and stuck the spoon into Buffy's mouth, which was slightly agape. She swatted his arm playfully. "Hey," he protested. "Slayer strength, human wuss!"

Things were so easy with Xander - being around him, joking with him, talking to him. And it wasn't like she was unaware of the fact that he'd been more or less totally in love with her in high school. She was just kinda surprised to find that maybe she might feel the same way about him, a little. Relationships, for Buffy, had never been easy. But maybe there was light at the end of the sewer that was her love life. What if...

A loud crash came from the vicinity of the living room. Both Buffy and Xander dashed to see what was wrong. Angel had overturned the coffee table in a fit of rage. "He's dying," he stressed, but Giles was unyielding.

"Wesley would not want to become the very thing he spent his life training to defeat."

"What do you know about what Wesley would want?" Angel demanded. "Any of you! You don't know him. You never bothered trying to."

~*~

"Hello?" Wesley called. His voice echoed in the dark void. "Is someone going to put me back sometime in the near future, or am I just to twiddle my thumbs?"

"Keep your pants on," a jovial-sounding voice said. Wesley whirled around to see a tall demon, red in color, with armor that looked to be made of skulls and a ring through his chin. "Hey. I'm Skip."

"Of course you are," Wesley sighed.

"Easy, buddy. I'm here to help you. There's been this whole cosmic screw-up, and I'm supposed to straighten it out. You see, you weren't supposed to get these visions." Skip smiled grotesquely.

"Yes, I'd gathered as much," Wesley said. "I've seen pictures. I know what my fate is to be."

"Doesn't have to be that way, you know. That Chase girl could have kept the head-splitting visions to herself, and you'd still be footloose and fancy free."

"I have never in my life been either footloose or fancy free," Wes said dryly. "And there's a flaw in your logic. Cordelia is also human."

"True," Skip agreed. "But then it would be her brain turning to goo, and you'd still be off the hook." He paused.

"Whatever you're selling," Wesley frowned, "I'm not buying. Please return me to my body so I can use what little time I have left to guide Angel in his quest for redemption."

"Oh, come on. Haven't you ever wondered what your life would be like if you hadn't-"

"No."

Skip heaved a world-weary sigh. "All right. Fine. Look, there's this loophole, okay? I can return you to your body, and you can keep the visions and not have your head explode... on one condition."

Wesley tapped his foot. "I'm waiting."

"You have to become part demon."

"Are you daft?" Wesley exclaimed. "Bloody fool, what do you think I've been trying to do?"

"Oh," Skip said, crestfallen. "So you'd already thought of that, huh?"

Wesley raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay," Skip muttered. "Done."