Work Text:
Disclaimer: Joss owns all. Damn him.
Notes: This was inspired by Poodle's `Parting Gift'. It's a loose continuation of that scenario. When I asked her if I could, she said go for it. Roger is an unmitigated bastard. *growls* And I suppose I'm an unmitigated Wes/Faith shipper - go figure.
Distribution: Want. Take. Have. Just tell me where it's going
please. And since I'm posting it here Riposte goes without saying.
Rating: FRT (mainly cause I never admit to writing FRC fic)
***
It's hellish cold down here.
I know weird fucking thought at a time like this, huh?
What else are you supposed to think about when you're sitting beside your former Watcher's coffin in the cargo area of a plane taking him home one last time?
Angel called. He was trying - trying to find someone to give Wes what he deserved. He called that bastard that claims he's Wes's father - personally I don't see it, even at his worst there's no way Wes could have come from that piece of shit and I've only met Roger Wyndham-Pryce once - and typically the bastard didn't give a damn. Angel's heart was already breaking, so he wouldn't risk trying Giles. Couldn't risk he'd fail again. I'd like to think that Giles would have been more sympathetic, but then there's probably a reason why I didn't call him either.
So Angel called me. God, how pathetic is it, that the one person Angel knew would see you home was me - the bitch who tortured you. I'm not sure why he just didn't do it himself, but I'm glad he didn't. One last act between us, we were never very good as Watcher and Slayer, Wes, but at least I can do this and do it right.
Wood understood. He got it. He doesn't always get everything, but he got this and he got why I needed to do this alone. I get a salary from the Council now - a damn nice one, Giles' doing, but I never use it much - simple tastes - and Wood likes taking care of all the domestic stuff, so mostly it sits in the bank doing fuck all. Never knew what I'd need it for, until now.
Angel offered to pay, but I said no. If I was going to do this, I
needed to do it all. If we'd have been Watcher and Slayer in more than just name, it would have probably been Wesley burying me - probably with his own money. I owed it to him to do the same now that the tables were turned. So I spent a day on the phone - making arrangements. Making sure Wes went home.
I don't know if Angel knew what to make of us, when we showed up to where he was staying. Six slayers, including me, all dressed in black - ready to take the fallen Watcher home. Hanging out with Giles musta done something to my mind, `cause I couldn't get the idea out of my head when it got in there.
Like Valkyries come to escort the fallen hero to his reward.
The girls didn't know Wesley Wyndham-Pryce from god, but they knew me and they were willing to do this based on my word. It scared me sometimes how blindly they'd follow me.
Angel turned Wes's stuff over to me. I guess he didn't want to just get rid of it, but he didn't know who'd want it. I made arrangements to send his books and journals to Giles, his clothes and some other things to charity. Most of his weapons, I had sent home to Cleveland - we can use them to train the girls. I kept his toy - the wrist gadget he had made - it'd take me a while to figure it out, but somehow I don't think Wes'd mind me keeping it. I kept his old glasses too. They're tucked in the inner pocket of my jacket, right above my heart. Something from the man he became and something from the man he was - both of them together making someone I was missing more than I ever thought I would.
Angel and I waded through the paperwork and got his body released to us, and we were on the next flight to England that would land after dark. Which is where we are now.
The other Slayers are up in the cabin, but even now Wes isn't alone.
It's amazing what money will buy, what doors it'll open. Just what people will do to get it - makes me wonder sometimes whether this damned place is worth saving? Angel and Spike - they pretty much had to ride down here. Illyria - didn't feel comfortable without them and maybe she shared the same reason I had for being down here.
I wasn't going to leave Wes - not until I'd done what I set out to do. Maybe not even then. I think a piece of me was going with him, wherever he was.
It was better for the other Slayers anyway... They weren't used to not being able to slay the things that gave you cramps and fucking Illyria made me feel like I was giving birth the cramps were so bad - so I can imagine what it was doing to them.
Still I don't mind them being down here too. It wasn't like they're disturbing me - all of us alone with our thoughts.
~~~
It's hellish cold out here.
Déjà vu...
For all the good doing this during the day is doing, I shoulda stuck with my dusk plans - then at least Angel and Spike could be here.
Instead it's just me and the Hell god standing here silently, and the honor guard of five slayers standing off to the right, as the priest does his thing trying not to be disturbed by the strange women bidding this man goodbye. Hell, if he's any kind of a priest at all - he probably knows at least one of us ain't human.
Its typical English weather, cold, wet, overcast - of course, seeing this is probably something that Wesley missed - maybe it's appropriate, maybe he was tired of all the sunshine. Besides the weather matches my mood - it's hard to say what Illyria's mood is and I don't think I want to try.
If I could, I'd kick Wes's ass right now... This so fucking isn't me. Standing here, holding a bouquet of flowers. Hell, I'm even wearing this respectable black dress. Ok, so my leather jacket is over it, but I wasn't getting completely soaked. I'm almost shaking I'm so mad and I'm trying to hold it together until I can go kick some vampire ass.
Some noise catches my attention and I know I've got a `what the fuck' look on my face and I feel myself tense, ready for a fight if Andrew and his little troop of Slayers want to crash this party and take something up with Illyria. Under normal circumstances, I might wanna kick the hellbitch's ass, but not today. Instead I watch as the newly arrived Slayers and Andrew fall in alongside my five girls. Andrew nods in acknowledgement, then turns his attention to what the priest is saying.
My stomach churns and I find myself looking at my feet, knowing I shouldn't look up or I'm going to loose it completely. That's when I notice that I can't feel the rain on my soaked hair anymore, and I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. I look up, expecting it to be Wood maybe... Maybe even Giles. Instead I find myself looking up into Xander's understanding face as he holds an umbrella above us both - god, I want to pound him flat for making me feel this way. For letting me see the compassion in his expression.
At that moment, I feel something inside break and the tears I haven't fucking cried, ever, for myself, for Wes, for anyone start pouring out of me. Gently, Xander pulls me to his chest, stroking my back. Treating me way nicer than I had ever expected him to after what I did to him. After a minute, I feel another gentle hand on my shoulder and I don't want to turn, but it's insistant - gently tugging at me. Reluctantly I let myself be turned and I see Willow, her eyes puffy, her nose red. She gives me a sad smile, looking for all the world like someone killed her puppy or something.
For a minute, I get fucking mad - like why the hell should they be here. Wes and me were always the outsiders, not in the gang - it's not like they cared, but looking into Willow's eyes - I see only honest feelings. She does care. Hell, who am I to get pissy... Look what I did to him and I care.
They do care.
This time it's me that opens my arms and takes the little witch into them. Being the strong one is something I can handle easier than breaking down. I can feel her snuffling against me, murmuring something about how it's not fair. I gotta smile - the more Willow changes, the more she stays the same.
I'm so busy comforting Willow; I almost don't notice two more figures joining us at the side of the grave.
"Faith," B's voice is trembling as she looks at me. It's her
expression that does me in. We were the only two Slayers in the world who had Watchers of their own. Who knew what it was like to have a partner, that whether you liked them or not - they were there. You could turn to them - even if they hated your guts.
Willow steps away from me, into Xander's arms probably, but all I care about is getting to my Slayer sister. We hold each other up, pressed close, crying hard. I'm living her hell and we both know it. She's seeing her worst fucking nightmare play out. I know she can't help seeing herself in my shoes and Giles in Wes's coffin - dead as a doornail. I'll survive it. I don't fucking think B would, for all of Giles and her problems - they're still each other's lifelines.
Can't mistake Giles' firm yet reassuring touch as he guides us silently back to the graveside and nods to the priest to continue.
We were the only two Slayers in the world who had Watchers of their own. Now B is the last.
Don't get me wrong - Wood is a great partner, but he's not a Watcher - even being raised by one, can't make him a Watcher. Can't make him my Watcher.
It feels like a freaking weird ass dream, standing here with the Scoobies, watching them put my Watcher in the ground. I bet they're the last people Wes thought would come and mourn at his grave.
Don't know how much time passed before the Slayers start stepping up to the grave and I almost loose it with what they were putting there. A cross. A stake. Some of them even leaving a crossbow bolt. I take a quick look at the priest and catch his bewildered look.
Next up are Xander and Willow, setting a bouquet of wildflowers over top the other Slayers' offerings. I see a little sparkle of light as Willow says a prayer with a little more power than maybe Giles would approve of to speed Wes on his way and protect him on his journey. At least that's what I assume she's doing - can't see her sliding off the straight and narrow for my Watcher.
B and Giles move forward next. A bundle of daisies taking its place next to the wildflowers now. B's hand presses against the cool wood of the coffin and I can see her lips move - she's saying something to him... Probably sorry. I can see the sad look on her face as she leans against Giles.
Giles surprises me a little when I see a sparkle similar to Willow's - maybe even a little stronger cascade over the coffin from his finger tips and his head bows sadly.
Illyria doesn't move - just looks at me. Guess a hell god doesn't do goodbyes like this...
Everyone's eyes are on me now and I'm not enjoying it... As glad as I am they came, I almost wish I had a chance to say goodbye private now. I look at the flowers in my hand - roses - white and yellow. White for purity and yellow for goodbyes. Ok, so maybe the white is a little outta place but the yellow is just right. Besides, we both found our way back to the white hats right - so I figure we got rights to it too.
"Goodbye, Wes. No matter what I said - or anybody else said - you were a good Watcher - one of the best. You're done fighting and hurting now - just rest. You're home."
~ Finis ~