TITLE: The Meaning of Heroes (Book One: 2/25)
AUTHORS: Jess (Watcher Giles) and Lara
WEBSITE: http://heroes.darling-moon.com
DISCLAIMER: We only wish we were as successful as Joss Whedon. He and Mutant Enemy own this.

It had been an interesting morning. Wesley had woken up in lighter spirits, his eyes lighting up when he saw that Giles and Fred were still there. Knowing Wesley, he had probably thought the previous night had been a dream until that moment.

Giles didn't think they were out of the woods by a long shot. He could still see the guilt over Connor in the lines of the younger man's face. He had popped down to the gift shop to pick up several notepads for Wes, and the prospect of being able to communicate had distracted him from his guilt. A little bit.

After talking for a while, it was decided that Fred should retrieve her things from the Hyperion. The sooner they cut ties completely, the better. Wes seemed worried about her safety but calmed when he realized Giles would be going with her. They waited for his afternoon nap when the nurse came with another sedative to help. Security was alerted and on watch for Angel and Gunn, so Giles just wanted to get this over with. He quietly led her out to his car, making certain to put the top down before tossing his jacket in the back seat.

"You'll have to direct me. I've never been there before," he told her.

Hopefully this would be the last time Fred would ever see those hypocrites again.

"It's actually not too far from here. Turn left out of the main parking lot and go down to Broadway. Turn right, and then once you get to Goldenrod, turn left. You can't miss it," Fred said as climbed into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt.

She ran a hand through her hair, worried about going back there. Cordy was still probably on her holiday with Groo, which meant they would have to face Charles and Angel alone. Of course, if Cordy were there, she'd probably side with them anyway – after all, she and Angel...

"I just realized. Some of Wesley's stuff is still there too. Some of his books and laptop and stuff. We should get that too," she told him as they pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road. "And I don't have much – just clothes and Feigenbaum and a few things my parents sent me."

Suddenly, it hit her how easily it was going to be to remove themselves from the life she had just finally been getting comfortable with. Pack up a few things and leave. That simple. It seemed rather fitting, though, considering how quickly Angel and Charles seemed to be willing to dismiss Wesley from their lives. Actually, now that she thought about it, it seemed that they had been pushing him out in a way for a long while now, what with Angel's focus on Connor and Cordelia and Gunn's focus on...her.

"My life is changing again for the second time in less than a year," she noted softly. "I thought the Hyperion was my new home and everyone there was my new family. That they all cared about everyone else. Guess I was wrong."

Giles followed her directions, his heart going out to her. The fact that she was willing to do this made him respect her even more. Five years, in a demon dimension as a slave, and now she was voluntarily giving up the life she had rebuilt because it was right. It showed a strength of character that he hadn't seen in some time.

"Do you know which things are Wesley's?" he asked, nodding when she did. "I'll need you to pack up his things as well. You're right – we might as well take them. Knowing your friend Charles, he'd destroy them in a fit of pettiness. Although I do hope he keeps his fight with me." Giles gave her a wry smile.

As they pulled onto the street, he noted how Fred's form immediately tensed up. He parked the car out front and turned to face her.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I know you're not a fool; things will be said. If you just want to make me a list, I can retrieve your things while you wait in the car."

She shook her head. "I need to go in. If I don't, I'd just be running away, and I'm sick of doing that. I did that for three years." She looked up at the Hyperion, all the way to the blown out windows on the top floor, and took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what could happen. Twisting her head, she looked at Giles. "Let's go."

"Good girl," he smiled, proud of her. He saw the determination in her eyes, and knew this young woman was special. She followed her heart and was prepared to deal with the fallout, no matter the consequences. He was determined to let her know she wasn't alone. If necessary, he would be her shield. He knew he had a few things of his own he wanted to say to the three.

Opening the car door, she climbed out and stood on the pavement, waiting for him to circle around and join her. She was going to go in, but she wasn't going to go in alone.

"I'll follow your lead. And I'll be there if you need me," Giles told her as they walked up the sidewalk. He reached out and held open the door for her, allowing her to go through first but making it a point to be right behind her.

Fred nodded and walked into the Hyperion lobby, feeling her heart thumping loudly in her chest. If anything was going to alert Angel to the fact that they were there, she had no doubt that it was going to be that. The lobby was deserted when they first walked in, but she knew it wasn't going to remain that way for long.

And she was right. As she and Giles walked down the steps, Charles appeared from the back office, his eyes narrowing when he saw them and his hand going up to rub the back of his neck.

"What're you doing here?" he asked. "Thought you weren't going to leave Wesley's side for nothing."

"We came to pick up my and Wesley's stuff," she told him, straightening up and staring at him, almost daring him to try something.

"Fred..."

"I don't wanna hear it. I don't care. You knew what Angel would probably do, and you called him and told him where Wesley was." She almost had to laugh when she saw his face. "Yeah, Charles, I figured it out. How else could he have found out? You said yourself he was going to be pissed, and you called him anyway. So just stay away from me."

"Now are you going to be a good boy? Or am I going to have to put you on your face again?" Giles asked with a smirk. "Go ahead, Fred. Why don't you get Wesley's things from the office first?" He wanted her where he could see her as long as Angel wasn't in sight. In the mood he was in, he wanted somebody to start something.

And just as he thought that, Angel came down the stairs, stopping to blink at who was standing in the lobby. A feral growl erupted from the vampire's chest, and his fists were clenched as he walked the rest of the way down. "Giles, I can't believe you would..."

"Would what, Angel? Still care about my friends even though they make mistakes?" he inquired with sarcasm dripping from his voice. "It must be nice to be so perfect that you never make a mistake. Oh, wait, your mistake mars my skin. You're a bloody hypocrite and a selfish one to boot."

"Connor was my son!" he snapped.

"And Jenny was my love. Do we really want to continue this conversation in front of innocents?!" He turned his head just slightly, catching Fred's gaze. "Go on. Get his things," he suggested, never losing sight of either man in the lobby.

Fred walked slowly toward the office, glancing back at Giles and feeling her breath catching in her throat. She wasn't going to be able to breath easily until they were done and out of there. The atmosphere was so claustrophobic – she hadn't realized how much so it had become recently until now. When she reached the door, she had to squeeze herself by Charles, who refused to move, apparently wanting to make this as difficult for her as possible. As she did, his hand shot out to try to grab her arm, but the years on Pylea had taught her well, and she quickly ducked and twisted before he could get a hold on her.

"Don't touch me," she told him. "You gave up any right to that with what you did last night."

When Giles saw Gunn reach for Fred, something inside of him snapped. He had already warned the man twice about putting his hands on her. And three strikes, he was out. In the blink of an eye, he was on him, gripping the younger man's arm and twisting it around. Kicking his feet out from underneath him, he angled it just right until he heard the tell-tale snap of bone.

"I warned you, boy, about putting a hand on her. Do it again, and I'll take the arm completely," he growled before stepping back to allow the other man up.

"Giles!"

"Tit for tat, Angel. Isn't that the only thing you seem to understand? You come at one of mine, I take one of yours. Starting with him." He nodded his head toward Gunn.

Inside the office, Fred grabbed a box that was sitting on the floor next to the book shelf and started putting Wesley's belongings in it.

"Hey! I'm back!" a voice suddenly called out from the main doors, causing Fred to pause in what she was doing. Everyone looked over to see Cordelia and Groo walking in, both of them looking very tanned and tropical. "How is every–?" She stopped when she saw Giles and then the looks on everyone's faces. "Wha–what the hell's going on?"

He turned his head slightly upon hearing her. "Ah, Cordelia. Don't worry. I have no illusions that you might actually see sense. I just brought Fred to collect her and Wesley's belongings, then we'll be on our way."

"Wesley's and Fred's–what are you talking about? Angel, will you please tell me what's going on?"

Gunn groaned as he collapsed into the chair behind the reception desk, holding his arm. "Wesley stole Connor and let Holtz take him, and now they're gone, and Fred and robo-Watcher here are siding with him! And I think you broke my arm!"

"Of course, I broke it," Giles snapped back. "You've been warned not to touch Fred twice. Not to mention that little stunt you pulled to use Angel's anger to do your dirty work. You're lucky that's all I broke."

"Wha–he what?" Cordelia's eyes opened wide in disbelief as she walked down the steps to stand next to Angel, putting her hand on his arm. "Wesley did that, and you guys are protecting him?"

"He didn't let Holtz take him, you pillock. Tilting the story again so it works in your favor? Does Wesley really scare you that much?" Giles challenged. "There was a prophecy – 'The father will kill the son.' Wesley tried to disprove it, but at every turn it was being confirmed. As a last resort, thinking he was saving both Angel and Connor, he took the boy to his place, intending to leave town for a bit, but Justine cut Wesley's throat and took Connor from him while he lay dying." As he finished correcting the story, he scowled at Cordelia. "And yes, I am protecting him–both of them, considering Angel tried to suffocate him at Gunn's insistence as he lay helpless in a hospital bed."

He paused to eye her up for a moment. "As I said, I have no illusions of you seeing sense in this. We came to get their things, then we'll be on our way."

"Hey, now!" Cordelia tried to protest. "I don't care what any prophecy might say – Angel would never hurt Connor! Wesley should know that!"

Pausing for a moment while placing Wesley's laptop in the box in front of her, Fred snorted, realizing that the other woman had just proved Giles' point for him.

"No, he shouldn't have known that. I double checked the words myself; he translated everything correctly and tried to disprove it through several channels. Every one led him back to the prophecy being real. Do you think he wanted to believe that his friend was capable of that? Add the prophecy and the confirmations to Angel's suspect behavior at the time, and I can see why he felt he had no other option. Why don't you ask your precious vampire what happened to the boy after Holtz's lieutenant slit Wesley's throat."

Fred shook her head as she listened to Giles putting everyone in their place before finishing packing Wesley's stuff in the box and hefting it up to carry it out to Giles. "Here," she said quietly once he was finished. "I think I can manage going up and getting my belongings from upstairs. Long as everyone else stays here."

He took the box from her, his hard gaze turning gentle for a brief moment just for her while he gave her a nod. Just a little bit longer, and they would be free of this.

"Justine and Holtz, they had Connor," Angel began, swallowing thickly. "Lilah was there with a Wolfram and Hart task force. When Sahjahn tore open a rift to Quor'Toth, I couldn't take a chance on the Wolfram and Hart men shooting Connor. I let Holtz take him, and he ran through the rift."

"Yes, I suspected as much. And then you tried to suffocate your best chance at getting into Quor'Toth to retrieve him," Giles pointed out. "You think Wes isn't taking full responsibility of this on himself? Oddly enough, though, it isn't entirely his fault."

"Sahjahn said–," Angel began, but Giles cut him off.

"News flash, Angel – demons have been known to lie. After two-hundred-fifty years on this earth, I would have thought you had learned that by now." This conversation was growing tiresome. He was looking at three of the most selfish individuals he had ever known. The faster he got Fred out of here, the better. He jerked his head toward the staircase to indicate she should go get her stuff now, as quickly as possible. He would keep everyone else down here.

Nodding, she hurried over to the stairs leading up to the second floor, feeling the eyes of everyone on her – one caring, the others accusing. How could she choose Wesley over them, she could practically hear the three of them yelling.

"Fred..." Cordelia started to say.

"Don't even," she responded as she reached the landing before disappearing down the hall.

In her room, or what had been her room, Fred moved about quickly, pulling clothing out of the drawers and stuffing them into the bag her parents had sent. A few of the items were Cordy's, things that she had lent her when she didn't have any clothes of her own before they had had time to go shopping, so she decided to leave those, laying them out on the bed for them to find whenever. She then grabbed a few pictures from the group she had tacked on the wall. One of her and Wesley, one of her holding Connor, and one of her and Lorne. She left the rest. After sliding those into the bag with some books and her jewelry box, she picked up the stuffed rabbit sitting on the nightstand and stared at him.

"Master of Chaos, we certainly have that downstairs," she whispered.

"Yeah, we do, don't we?" a voice came from the door. She looked over to see Lorne standing there with the band-aid still across the small gash on his head from when Wesley had knocked him out. Of everyone in this mess, he was the one person who had a right to be pissed at Wesley for what he did. "I heard the yelling downstairs. Sounded like World War Three, so I decided to stay hidden up here." Then he noticed the bag on the bed. "You're leaving?"

She nodded. "I...you heard Wesley's in the hospital? He was hurt really bad."

"I heard. Makes Mount Bump-on-the-Forehead seem not so bad."

"I don't think he meant to hurt you, Lorne. He was doing what he thought was right."

"I know. When he was singing, I just saw the 'taking Connor' part and reacted, and he did too. Been thinking more about what I saw beyond that, and I know he just wanted to help them. He never intended for what happened, but try telling the Livid Duo down there that and..." He sighed. "And you're leaving."

"I took Wesley's side. I can't stay here anymore."

"I know. But where are you going to go?"

"Wesley's friend Giles is downstairs. We'll both stay with Wesley until he's better." She pulled her phone out of her pocket. "If you need to get in touch with me..."

"I'll call," he promised, walking over and giving her a hug. "I'm going to miss you, buttercup."

"Are you going to stay here?"

"Don't know. Don't know what I'm going to do. There's something bad coming, sugar. What happened to Wesley – the prophecy and everything–that was just the first part of it. And I don't think they're up to it down there." He touched her cheek. "You take care of yourself. And Wesley. And tell him no hard feelings, 'kay?"

She nodded and reached out to grab her bag while cradling Feigenbaum in her arms. "Bye, Lorne. I'm going to miss you too."

Leaning over, she kissed his cheek and then hurried out of the room and back to the stairs to the lobby, where it she could hear Giles talking – obviously to Cordy and Angel – as she reached the landing.

"This is truly rich – the two of you, playing happy family. Yes, what happened to Connor was unfortunate but not irreparable. Yet you condemn a man who has stood by you, fought with you and bled with you for trying to do right. Whether it worked out or not is irrelevant. No one is allowed to make mistakes but the two of you." He glared at Cordelia when she looked like she was going to interrupt him. "And you especially, after making a wish that nearly sent an entire town to hell...all because you saw your sweetheart kiss another woman. I knew you were selfish, Cordelia, but to make all of us pay for your heartache with our lives? As least Wesley's efforts were intended for someone else. Can you say the same?"

He turned his attention on Angel. "And you. You had your soul for over a century before you came to Sunnydale, but rather than look into it and discover its limitations, you brooded about it and blindly unleashed Angelus on the residents of Sunnydale, resulting in three deaths. And those are only the ones I know about. Both of you are hypocrites. You have no room to pass judgment on what Wesley did."

Hurrying down the stairs, Fred circled around Cordy and Angel and glanced at Groo, who looked like he was ready to step in defend his princess' honor at the next sign of a physical struggle. "I'm ready," she said to Giles.

He looked up when he saw Fred approaching, giving her a nod. "Let's go." He picked up the box with Wesley's things, allowing Fred to go out first. "You know, I'm glad you three were foolish enough to banish him–them. People around you, Angel, have short life spans. Now that they won't be any longer, perhaps they stand a chance of living to see old age."

As they walked through the door, Fred tried to keep herself from looking back, to just walk out and keep going, but she couldn't help it. She turned her head and saw Angel and Cordy standing there with looks of disbelief on their faces, saw Gunn still sitting behind the reception desk, as pale as she had ever seen him. And a part of her felt sorry for them for the fact that they refused to understand and that something was coming that they didn't know.

But she couldn't let them control her life anymore, even if they had helped save her life. She had to start making her own choices, and right now, that meant leaving and going to Wesley and making sure that he got better. Perhaps they could help get Connor back – the baby really was the innocent in everything, and it would be for him, not them – but Wesley had to get better first.

Turning away, she walked with Giles back to the car and put her bag in the trunk when he opened it to stow Wesley's box. Then as they pulled away, she glanced over the hotel and felt fairly sure that whatever happened, she'd never see the Hyperion again.

Giles' hand gripped the steering wheel tight, knuckles white, his breathing slightly elevated. He was angry – angry for the two people who were now under his care. Sure, Wesley's time with Angel had forced him to grow, but then most beings were able to advance over time. Of course, that was the problem. Angel and Cordelia, they never changed. Still self-involved and self-absorbed. And they never saw anything past the ends of their own noses.

"Are you all right?" he finally asked Fred, relieved that the hard part was done. "I know that couldn't have been easy for you, but I am proud of you, for doing what is right."

His mind briefly wondered why she was doing this, whether it was out of guilt for the realization of all the things Wesley did for her. No, he quickly brushed that thought away. Repaying a debt would have been bringing him his things, maybe warning him about the vampire's deadly mood. Fred was upending her own life because it was the right thing to do.

"I'm okay. Glad that's over with. While I was upstairs, I spoke to Lorne–that's a friend of ours. He's an anagogic, used to run Caritas here in LA. He said he forgave Wesley and that he'd be in touch. So I've come through this with Wesley and at least one of my friends."

"Yes, I remember Wesley mentioning him. He's the demon whose homeworld you were sent to?" Giles smiled when she nodded, feeling himself starting to relax. "It would explain why the way you talk of him speaks of a deeper connection. Mutual dislike for Pylea, possibly? Well it's good to see that one of them can be level-headed. Knowing that this Lorne isn't holding any grudges might help Wesley immensely."

"I hope so." She looked down at her lap, at her hands, which she noticed she was wringing together. "You're right, though, it's not easy."

"Hey," he reached out a hand and took one of hers in his, trying to stop her nervous motions. "No, it's not, regardless of whether you know this is right or not. You've upended your life, twice in less than a year. That takes an incredible amount of bravery. You should be proud of that."

"I don't feel like I did anything to be proud of. I just did what I had to do. I couldn't leave Wesley. I couldn't." She looked over at him with a half smile. "But it's done now. I'm with you guys all the way, no looking back."

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's good to look forward. Both of you deserve that – a fresh start, a new chance to flourish. But be careful. Just because you try to ignore the past, doesn't mean it will go away. This moment, this pain, is going to live with Wesley for a very long time. We can't get him past it, only he can do that, but we can help him live with it. And Wesley and I can do the same for you."

Fred felt her smile widen a bit. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though she could really trust what she was being told. She knew that she and Wesley and Giles had a lot to work through first, of course, especially with Wesley's recovery process, but somehow, she had the feeling they'd be able to get through it. She believed in Giles as much as she believed in Wesley. She knew both of them where truly good men.

Giles could feel the moment she relaxed a bit. Good. He wanted her to be able to trust him, so he could help Wesley and her. He couldn't help but feeling as if this was the calm before the storm, though. It occurred to him that other enemies of Angel Investigations might want to take advantage of the splintering of the team. That thought alone made him accelerate a little faster, wanting to get back to Wesley.

"I'll do whatever it takes to help Wesley," she told him, squeezing his hand. It actually reminded her of Wesley's – about the same size and feel. "I may–I warn you now that I may sometimes be a bit...scattered, and I may sometimes want to retreat if things get hard. If you see me with a marker in my hand, make sure you have a good wall cleaner, but I'm gonna try."

He spared a glance down at their hands, his thumb gently rubbing along hers. "Fred, until recently, I have been surrounded by four young woman – the Slayer, her sister and our two resident witches. Add to that add to that a vampire unable to bite humans who helps us because of a promise he made to Buffy as well as a young man with a big heart who also has the tendency to put his foot in it and his eleven-hundred-year old girlfriend – she used to be a former vengeance demon and works for me now but hasn't a clue as to what the word tact means. For lack of a better phrase, welcome to the asylum," he said with a smirk. She was worried about scattered when his life had been left scattered in the dust years ago.

Fred listened to him with interest. Wesley, Angel and Cordy had mentioned the people back in Sunnydale, but they had never really spoken about who they were, what they were like. Except maybe for Buffy. Suddenly, she became quite aware of the fact that Giles was stroking her hand with his thumb. It felt nice – like when he had rubbed her back the previous night to get her to calm down. It was...it was like when Wesley sometimes had held her...before she had convinced herself that he wasn't interested in her in that way.

"I–." Her breath caught in her throat for a moment.

"I hope you remember that when you feel like retreating, you can always come to me. I'm not like them. I don't stop caring just because of a mistake." He smiled before turning back into the hospital parking lot. "I'll never judge you; with my past, I'm not qualified. But I will always care, and I will do whatever I can to help."

"Thank you for everything you've been doing," she told him as they pulled into a parking space. God, she was starting to realize why Wesley had reacted the way he had to Giles. If he acted this way to everyone... "I'll remember what you've told me. I promise to come to you if it all gets overwhelming."

"You don't have to thank me. I want to be here for him...and for you," Giles promised her when she agreed to come to him. "And know that no matter what, I won't ever turn you away." He smiled, covering her hand with his free one, so that he held it in both of his briefly. After a few moments, he reluctantly released her out of necessity, both of them exiting the car.

When they had to let go of each other's hands to get out of the car, Fred found herself a bit disappointed. And confused. What was going on? She felt like her emotions were all one big bundle of contradictions at the moment. Charles, Wesley, Giles. She knew Charles had been a mistake now, but Wesley and Giles...she didn't know what was going on with that. She shook her head. Things were just highly emotionally charged at the moment. That was it. They would get it worked out once things had settled down.

Going to the boot, he retrieved her bag of clothes, carrying it for her. "We have about forty minutes before Wesley wakes up, so let me buy you lunch in the cafeteria. We can sneak in some contraband for Wesley. Apple juice and maybe some vanilla ice cream. The cold will feel good on his throat."

"Oh, that sounds good," she said, realizing that she couldn't remember when she had eaten last. Had it been the previous night? She couldn't recall anymore. "And I'm sure Wesley would be thankful for what we could get him."

They made their way to the cafeteria where they got some food. Fred found for once that while she was hungry, she wasn't starving, and stuck with a grilled cheese sandwich, a bag of chips and some soda pop. After Giles paid for the food, they found a table in one of the corners, away from everyone else, and sat down across from each other. Fred picked at her sandwich for a moment before looking up at him.

"Giles...can I ask you something? I don't mean to pry, but I was wondering about something you said to Angel back at the hotel...about a mistake he made that mars your skin? And someone named Jenny? Can I ask, what you meant? I understand if you don't want to talk about, but I was just wondering because he never did really talk about anything about Sunnydale." She stopped talking and prayed she hadn't put her foot in it.

"Wow, tough questions right off the bat," he took a deep breath. "I suppose you should know. Angel was your friend too. I assume Wesley told you about Angelus? How he became Angel?" He inquired before continuing.

She nodded, remembering the warning Wesley had given her not that long before Angel had returned from Sri Lanka, telling her that he wanted her to be prepared in case something happened since she was living at the hotel.

"That first year in Sunnydale was when we met Angel. He had been shadowing Buffy, leaving her cryptic messages about the goings on of the vampires of the town. She didn't even realize he was a vampire at first. I had some texts on Angelus in my own records from the Council, but they were incomplete. It stated the fact that Angelus had been cursed with a soul, but then he disappeared, and the Council lost track of him. Lucky me to have him land in our laps," he muttered sarcastically. "He helped us protect Buffy off and on for two years, and as long as that continued, I couldn't see any reason to send him away.

"Until Buffy's seventeenth birthday. Spike and Drusilla–I suppose you could call them family of Angelus. He sired Dru, Dru sired Spike. They were trying to assemble a being called The Judge. The Judge was a demon that could not be killed by manmade weapons and had the ability to incinerate someone to ash by burning the humanity out of them. Angel and Buffy barely escaped, and that night, we discovered the hard way what the clause in Angel's curse was. He and Buffy had their moment of 'perfect happiness,' and Angelus was released. Jenny Calendar was a teacher I had been seeing at the time. It wasn't until we were faced with Angelus that it was revealed she was a member of the gypsy tribe that initially cursed him and was sent to keep an eye on him.

"Needless to say, I felt hurt, betrayed. I pushed her away. But God help me, by then it was too late. I loved her. I didn't know until the night she died that she loved me as well and that she had been trying to translate the text to the original curse. She wanted to make things right with Buffy and with me. That night, she had just finished the translation, and Angelus caught her at the school." Giles grit his teeth at the next memory that flooded his brain. "He snapped her neck, and left her in my bed for me to find. The set-up was elaborate. I didn't think anything of it at first since she was supposed to come by my flat that night so we could talk. There was a note on my door I thought was from her. La Boheme was playing on the record player, and there was champagne and roses. I walked upstairs." He swallowed thickly and took a shaky breath. "And there she was, lifeless eyes staring back at me. Angelus terrorized my family for months afterwards. Little did we know, he was making big plans."

Fred listened in amazement as Giles told her what had happened, feeling her heart drop at the description of Jenny's death at Angelus' hands. She had been told about Angelus, of course – it was a fear that they all seemed to have, that if they weren't careful, that Angel could change on them. She had never really believed it could be that bad, though. She had seen the demon in Angel in pure form after all, and he hadn't hurt her.

But that demon still had Angel's soul, she realized. If he hadn't...

"After he took a statue from the Sunnydale museum – the statue of Acathla – I realized what he was attempting. Waking Acathla opened up a Vortex into hell and would have sucked this world into it. The problem was Angelus didn't know the key, what he needed to wake Acathla, so he sent Drusilla and several minions to the high school. Dru killed Kendra, the other Slayer at the time, and I was taken back to the mansion. The reason I say Angel's mistakes mar my skin is because Angelus tied me to a chair and tortured me for hours, trying to get me to give him the key. I was whipped, cut, stabbed, beaten, burned."

He held up his left hand. "He broke all the fingers in this hand and ground them against each other. In the end, however, it was never Angelus that broke me. It was Drusilla. She has a special ability to get inside your head, to make you see what you want to see most. I was practically delirious with pain, and she made me think I had my Jenny back. I betrayed my Slayer, and for that, I will never forgive myself."

Tears sprung to Fred's eyes as she listened to how he had been tortured, and she looked at his hand when he held it up. One of the fingers was still slightly crooked, a reminder of what had been done to him. Without even realizing it, she reached up over the table and took his hand in hers, holding it tightly.

"Buffy and Xander came to rescue me, but by then, the vortex had been opened. Buffy was forced to send the man she loved to hell because I broke. Angel's blood was the key. Only that would open it, and only that would close it." Giles took a bite of his sandwich but didn't really taste it. "And that's why I think Angel is a bloody hypocrite. He had his soul for over a century. He did nothing in that time to find out about it, figure out its limitations. And because of that, he sent Sunnydale to hell. How dare he condemn Wesley after the things he did."

No wonder he hated Angel for what he had done to Wesley. No wonder he called him a hypocrite. Angel had known there was a clause in the curse, and still he had done what he had done. Wesley hadn't known – he had thought he had been doing the right thing. Angel had known he might have been doing the wrong thing.

"I never knew," she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. "They never talked about it. Cordy or Angel or Wesley, I mean. When they talked of Angelus, I thought they meant something like the demon form of him that I saw on Pylea. I never imagined... God, I can't imagine having gone through that." She pushed her sandwich away, suddenly not hungry anymore.

"There's no reason they should have. Angel and myself are the only ones that know all of the details. Cordelia knew that Angelus had killed Jenny but not to what extent. She's always been more than a little self-absorbed anyway. I suppose I didn't think she would care. And Wesley was working off of the edited account I provided in my diary to the Council." He curled his fingers around hers.

"What about Cordelia's mistake? Or do I not want to know?"

"Are you sure you want to hear this? I didn't mean to upset you." He took a breath at her hesitant nod, remembering the story Anya had once told him about how she had lost her powers. "Cordelia's tale puts us back on the self-absorbed aspect. At the time, she had been seeing a young friend of mine, Xander Harris. She had also been very competitive with Buffy. Cordelia caught Xander kissing another girl, and in the process of running away, she was injured when the stairs gave way under her and her torso was pierced with a piece of rebar. She blamed us, of course, and was later approached by a vengeance demon for scorned women, the one I mentioned earlier. Cordelia decided that since we were at fault, she would wish that Buffy Summers never came to Sunnydale. The new 'wish' world was so much different. Buffy was never there, so she hadn't killed the Master, who as a result ran the town with his minions. Xander and Willow had been turned and were lieutenants of The Master. As there was no slayer, the vampires ruled all.

"Apparently my doppelganger was still there, doing what he could with a handful of students to help. They were dubbed the White Hats. Without the Slayer, though, they didn't mount any decisive victories but were successful enough to be a thorn in the Master's side. Angel had been caught as an anomaly and kept as Willow's 'pet' to torture. Cordelia was killed in that world, but not before she explained what she had done to that world's version of me. He conjured the vengeance demon and managed to undo Cordelia's wish by smashing the demon's power center. The entire wish was based on selfish motivation, which is the norm for that girl. And because of that, I'll be damned if I let her take out her tantrums on the two of you."

Fred's jaw dropped at that. After those mistakes that they had made themselves, they were ready to write Wesley off for trying to help. He hadn't intended for Justine to do that – he had just been planning to leave town for a little while. Bring Connor back when things were safe. "I feel like someone's punched me in the gut," she admitted. "Now I really wish that Wesley had been able to tell me. Guess I've made my share of mistakes in this too."

"I'm sorry," Giles replied, cradling her hand in both of his. "I...I just didn't want you to feel guilty for the choice that they forced you to make. I realize this must be hard for you; you thought you understood who they were. Wesley is the one who deserves your loyalty. I know you feel like you let him down, but you're here for him when it counts. That is all that matters,"

Nodding her head, she looked up at the clock on the cafeteria wall. "Should we get some things for him then and head back upstairs? I want to be there when he wakes up, so he doesn't feel like we've abandoned him. I want to tell him that at least the important people don't hold him responsible in this."

He followed her glance toward the clock. "Yes. If you can handle our trays, I'll go find some plain ice cream and a bottle of juice," he offered and released her hand before standing. "Fred," he suddenly called her, taking her chin in his fingers and steering her gaze to his. "I'm glad you're here too."

At his smile, Fred felt herself blushing a bit as she smiled back. She couldn't remember the last time someone had told her that. Actually, yes, she could. Wesley – when she decided not to go home with her parents to Texas. And that had made her feel the same way, too. "Thanks," she said, looking up at him. Standing up, she rose up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek.

That earned her another warm smile. "Come on. Let's go check on our boy."

It didn't take long to procure the items for Wesley. He had them bag them up and then slid them inside his jacket, shivering slightly when he felt the chill of the ice cream through the plastic bag. He met her at the door to the cafeteria, holding her bag in one hand. Silently, they made their way back up to the second floor, Giles noting the square of her shoulders. She seemed surer of herself now, more certain that she had made the right decision. He was glad he was able to offer some kind of comfort in that regard.

He smiled as they entered the room and saw Wesley struggling to sit up. Setting Fred's bag down, he moved to assist him, grabbing his pillow from the couch to place behind Wesley's back. He chuckled when Wes immediately reached for his notepad.

"How are you feeling?" Fred asked as she went over to the bed and sat down on the edge next to Wesley. She made sure that she wasn't sitting on any of his tubes or wires, but she wanted to sit close to him and hoped he didn't mind.

Wesley nodded, his blue eyes lit with relief. He opened up the pad, and scribbled down what he needed to ask. Feel good. Rested. How did it go? the paper said.

"As well as can be expected. I stayed in the lobby and went round and round with Angel, Gunn and Cordelia. Tried to keep them busy so they wouldn't take things out on Fred," Giles explained. "Oh, and I broke Charles' arm for him for putting his hands on our girl there. Or at least trying to." He smirked when Wesley's eyes went wide with surprise then narrowed in anger.

What? Did he hurt you? He looked at Fred, worried.

She read the message and shook her head. "No. Didn't let him get close enough. Something I picked up from my time on Pylea." She found herself reaching up to brush a lock of Wesley's hair back from his forehead.

When Fred touched his hair, he felt as if a live wire had been placed against his body. The touch was so innocent and yet...not. Fred had never seemed comfortable touching him before. He vaguely wondered what had caused her change of heart. So lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that his heart had begun racing, the monitor attached to his chest noting the change.

Giles had to bite back a smile, arching an eyebrow at Fred as if to say, And you thought you didn't affect him?

She glanced up at the heart monitor, her eyes widening. She immediately wanted to tell him she was sorry but then realized he hadn't noticed. But Giles had. She could see it in his eyes.

"I do have a bit of good news for you, by the way," she said instead. "I spoke to Lorne, and he said that he understood why you did what you did and he doesn't hold any grudges for what happened. Also promised that he'll be in touch later when he knows what he's going to be doing. I don't think he'll be staying around there either."

Wesley breathed out a sigh of relief. He had forgotten about Lorne. He felt the guilt well up in his chest, however. He didn't mean to hurt Lorne; he had just panicked, and he knew he had hit his friend hard. Looking down, ashamed, he wrote the next note slowly.

Is he okay? I didn't want to have to hurt him. Panicked. He turned the paper for her to read.

"Lorne's fine. A bit of a bump, but he said that it's nothing compared to what happened to you. He said he panicked too, basically reacted to the first thing he got when he read you. If he had paid more attention, he would have realized why you were doing what you were doing."

Giles closed the door and returned to standing next to the bed. He could see the slump in Wesley's shoulders and cursed inwardly. "I have your things in my boot, your tea set, laptop, and your texts," he said with a smile, changing the subject as he removed the bag from his jacket. "And we also stopped by the cafeteria and managed to smuggle you in some contraband. Apple juice with a straw and two cups of vanilla ice cream. You'll have to let the ice cream sit for a bit until it's soft enough for you to work it down, but I thought something with a little taste would be an improvement over the hospital assigned mush they have you on."

He laughed when Wesley's eyes lit up. The younger man's eyes were so expressive when you took the time to look. Why had he never noticed before?

"I think that means he likes that we've broken the hospital rules," Fred said, reaching out and taking the bag from Giles. She fished out the apple juice and then set the bag aside on the chair next to bed so the ice cream could soften up while she opened the juice and stuck the straw in for him. "Here you go. Careful, though. Don't gulp."

Wesley took the bottle from her tentatively, gasping softly when his fingers brushed hers. He forced himself to focus on the bottle. This was definitely a treat. Wrapping his lips around the straw slowly, he figured the best way was to draw a small amount of juice into his mouth then see how well his throat cooperated in swallowing. He hummed happily as the taste hit his tongue. After a few failed attempts, he managed to get his throat to cooperate and take the juice down. Setting the pad on his lap, he scribbled on it.

Thank you both. Hospital mush should be illegal, he wrote while making a face at the memory. He looked up at Giles, knowing the other man was a genius in the kitchen. Promise me we can find something actually edible and still follow the doctor's orders? Something that doesn't taste like an old gym sock?

"I promise we'll figure something out," Giles smirked, looking into pleading blue eyes.

Fred glanced back and forth between the two men, remembering what Giles had told her, seeing the way they looked at each other. And she thought about the way Wesley had responded to her. Something in her tingled, deep down, something she couldn't really define.

"Have they said when they think you'll be able to leave?" she asked. "How long they think you'll have to stay before you go home?"

Giles snorted at the sad puppy look on Wesley's face when he shrugged. "Why don't I go find the doctor? With my own medical training and the fact Fred and I will both be on hand to look after you, I'll see if he can release you today." He barked a laugh when Wes' eyes shot up to his, practically begging. "I know how much you hate hospitals." His face then dropped slightly. "And you've spent far too much time in them these past couple of years," he added softly, the regret in his voice almost tangible. Shaking himself from his reverie, he pasted on a half smile. "You realize the doctor will give me a list of instructions as long as my arm?"

His smile grew when Wesley shrugged, as if to say, So?

"All right, I'll be right back." He turned his attention to Fred. "Keep an eye on this trouble maker for me, will you?" Sliding out of the room silently, he left the couple alone to talk.

Fred watched Giles go, closing the door behind him so that they could have some privacy. They were finally alone – alone for what must have been the first time since...she couldn't really remember. Had they been alone at any point since the incident with Billy's blood? It was after that incident that he had pulled away, was never in the room with her without anyone else.

"Giles is a really great guy," she said, reaching into the bag on the chair and pulling out one of the ice creams to see whether it was mushy enough for him to try eating. "I can see why you're such good friends with him – he drove all the way down from Sunnydale the minute I called him and said that you were missing. I can see why you..."

She broke off in the middle of her train of thought as she pulled the top off the ice cream cup and then rescued the attached spoon before tossing the lid into the nearby trash can. Her mouth had run ahead of her brain there, and she had almost said something that could have been very embarrassing for them both.

"I can see why you trust him so much."

Wesley nodded, glad that Fred seemed to trust him as well. He looked down at the pad, thinking for a moment before he started writing. He is. And I do. We didn't become friends until I left Sunnydale. I will always regret that. I was such a prat when I was there. Treated him abysmally. Thank God he didn't hold a grudge. He looked up at her, offering a sheepish smile.

Taking the apple juice from him and placing it on the bed stand, she nodded and held up the ice cream. "Need help with this, or do you think you can handle it yourself? If you want to write, it might be a problem, though, so I don't mind helping...but only if you want me too, of course."

He arched an eyebrow in amusement when she held up the ice cream. You want to feed me? he wrote, offering a whisper of a laugh. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he smiled. Okay.

The look in his eyes made Fred grin, happy to see that at least he had some of his spirits back despite what had happened. Scooping up a bit of the ice cream, she held it up to his mouth and paused, trying to decide the best way to do this. "Maybe if you just sort of lick it off and let it melt in your mouth?" She blushed a little at how dirty that sounded as he opened his mouth so she could feed him. "Please pay no attention to the silly girl sitting on the bed with you. She's just very, very happy that you're alive."

Wesley barely choked back the laugh that worked its way out at her slip. He grinned when she blushed, loving how adorable she looked. Fred and Giles had had a little fun with his condition last night. Now it was time for him to get some of his own back. Licking his lips, he eyed the small amount of ice cream on the tiny spoon she held up. Slowly snaking his tongue out, he curled it around the cold treat and drew it back into his mouth.

Fred's breath caught in her throat at that, the way he deliberately took his time with licking the ice cream off the spoon, and somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she felt that tingling again. The same sort of feeling she had gotten watching him and Giles look at each other. God, they were in a hospital. These were not the sort of feelings she was supposed to be dealing with while sitting in a hospital.

Swallowing slightly, she spooned up some more ice cream for him, wondering if he was going to torture her the entire time. Maybe talking would help. Well, her talking and him writing. Something to distract them from...whatever this was. "Are you in much pain?"

Oh, good one, Winifred, she chastised herself as soon as the question left her lips. Might as well have asked him if he thought the Pope was Catholic.

Wesley smiled at the taste of the ice cream; the cold was soothing on his injured throat. He watched her carefully, relishing in her reaction. It also felt good to know that he could affect her as well. Eyeing the new portion on the spoon, he decided to take a different tact. Opening his mouth wide, he took in the entire tiny spoon, trailing his lips back across her fingers and sliding the ice cream onto his tongue. When she asked him if he was in pain, he shook his head no. Looking down at the pad, he wrote, Morphine.

"Good," she heard herself squeak out at his answer, the feel of lips on her fingers adding to the ever growing shiver building up inside her. If he kept this up, she wasn't sure what she was going to do. She was sure he had questions for her, but they hadn't really said anything to each other. He had just accepted she was there with him, and she was glad.

Slowly, she fed him some more ice cream, the tips of her fingers brushing his face as she did, over the stubble.

He could see that her eyes were dilated. Whether she knew it or not, this little display was turning her on. Oh, if she only knew. Just the sight of her, a certain smile, the light hitting her hair just right, would normally have him stuck in his office for fear of embarrassment. When she held up another bite, he set down his pen in his lap and took her hand in both of his. His thumb rubbed slowly across the back of her hand as he led it toward his mouth. Wrapping his lips around the spoon, he made certain to brush her fingers once again, slowly pulling her hand back. He rolled the ice cream around on his tongue and turned his head, watching her, waiting to see what she would do.

"Wesley," she whispered, his name coming out like a low moan. Suddenly, the fact that they were in a hospital room and he was hooked up to all manner of monitors and an IV didn't matter. She was leaning towards him, the ice cream cup falling from her hand as she rested the palm of her hands lightly against his chest.

He gasped softly as she did that, realizing that she wanted him. And that knowledge did more to help heal his injured soul than all the medicine in the world. When she leaned forward, he slid a hand up her back, fingers threading through her dark locks. Her touch was hesitant, not wishing to hurt him.

A moment later, her lips were brushing his, tentatively, waiting to see if this was okay and that she wasn't hurting him in any way. Applying a little pressure, he brought her mouth down a little harder on his. He wanted this. God...he wanted her. He touched his tongue to her bottom lip, almost a plea for access to his heaven.

Fred felt him press his lips more firmly against her, felt his tongue, and opened her mouth slightly to deepen the kiss. Oh, God, this was really happening. What Giles had told her was true. Why he had pulled away–because of fear, because of what had happened? That didn't matter anymore. Her mistake with Charles didn't matter anymore either. More than anything now, she knew she had made the right decision.

Wesley moaned, ignoring the pain that flashed across his throat. This was where he had wanted to be for nearly a year, silently waiting for her to see him. He slid his tongue past her lips, exploring every crevice of her mouth. He tasted a hint of cheese, but the rest was distinctly Fred, and it was the taste of his salvation. Cupping her head in his hand, he stroked his tongue past hers in loving swipes, gentle teasing. Now was not the time for fire, but once his body was healed, he would claim her body and soul, just as she had already claimed his.

The shiver in her stomach spread through her limbs and would have made her feel weak in the knees if she hadn't been sitting down on the bed. She could hear her heart pounding wildly, could taste the sweetness of the ice cream on his tongue as he teased her, could smell those ubiquitous hospital smells, could feel his chest rising and falling underneath the palms of her hands and the way his fingers curled into her hair. She knew they had to be careful, that they couldn't let themselves get carried away – there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, though, she was where she wanted to be and where she knew she was meant to be. This had been a wake-up call for her. She had almost allowed this to slip away, but she had been given the chance to make it right, and she was glad for that.

Slowly, she pulled away from the kiss, resting her forehead to his and taking a deep breath to regain her equilibrium. "Wow," she said softly. "Pretty good for a guy laid up in a hospital bed. Can't wait to see what you're like when you're recovered."

Wesley's eyes met hers, his breathing elevated but not panicked like it was the previous night. He stroked the back of his knuckles down her cheek, allowing everything he felt for this woman to shine in his eyes. He was frustrated, not able to use his voice, to tell her everything from the first moment he had realized he loved her until now. He slid his hand up on her shoulder instead, his thumb moving in circles on her throat. He smiled widely when she voiced her excitement at the prospects of his recovery. He was about to reach down for a pad when the door flew open, however, and an irritated nurse stood in the doorway.

"Mister Wyndam-Pryce! Are you crazy?" the nurse asked, her tone scolding.

Wesley didn't even bother to look up. He smirked at Fred, mouthing the words, 'Crazy for you.'

"Your brother is out there trying to get you released ahead of schedule, and you pull a stunt like this? I think your young lady should move to a chair or better yet...the couch before the two of you short out the heart monitor."

Wesley winked at the woman he loved as if to say, Watch this. He turned his head to look at the other woman. And stuck his tongue out at her, looking very much like a five year old little boy.

"Well, I never!" she gasped indignantly.

"That's right – you probably never have. Which is why you're begrudging the man his time," Giles' voice chimed in from the doorway. "The man nearly died. Fear of that alone should allow them a little snogging time without Nurse Ratchett ruining their fun." He smiled at Wesley's grateful look.

Between Wesley's good-natured pout and Giles stepping in to defend them, Fred had to bite her lip to keep from laughing herself right off the edge of the bed. It was probably a very good thing the nurse couldn't see the half-eaten cup of ice cream currently melting on the floor on the other side of the bed. She could just imagine the ruckus that particular bit of rule breaking would have caused.

"We promise to behave the rest of the time we're here," Fred promised in a tone that made it clear that she didn't intend to behave at all if she could help it. She looked over at Giles and winked. "How much longer is that going to be, by the way?"

He laughed out loud when the nurse huffed irritably and walked out the door. "That woman needs to take the starch out of her knickers," he said between laughs. Once he had calmed himself, his green eyes took in the pair on the bed. "Why Wesley, you look rather pleased with yourself," he teased, grinning when the pair blushed. "It's good to see you two getting to know each other."

He ducked his head, knowing that was the first step to his friend's emotional healing. "Sorry I took so long. Had to pop down to the pharmacy for your pills." He held up the sack containing nine bottles. "We can take you home, but I was wrong," he said, allowing his face to fall so they would think something was wrong. "Bloody doctor's rules are longer than my arm."

He then looked at Fred speculatively. "Can I trust you to behave yourself while we get him dressed?" He winked, focusing his attention on Wes when he noted the other man's smirk. "And you too." He said, including Wesley in the chiding.

"I'll be good, Girl Scout's honor," she said, holding her fingers up in the traditional salute. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide as she glanced from Wesley to Giles. "What's Wesley going to wear, though? I think they probably got rid of his clothes, and the only one's we have here are mine. Don't think he's going to fit into any of them. Although I do have a cardigan that would probably look great with your eyes."

"Already taken care of. I rescued the suede coat. Few drops of blood on it, but if there's one thing you learn on a Hellmouth, it's how to get blood out of anything. I dumped it in the car when I went to get some clothes for Wes out of my bag. These are a little long on me, so they should fit you nicely." He held up a pair of jeans and a tee. "Unless you feel like going home in this lovely gown with your arse hanging out the back?" He chuckled when that earned him a blue-eyed glare.

"I think that means no." Fred had to hand it to Giles – he certainly was prepared. Leaning over, she gave Wesley a gentle kiss on the lips and then slid off the bed. "You'll have to show me your trick for removing blood stains," she said as she took Wesley's hand to help him. "I've lost a few outfits already thanks to that."

She tried not to shudder at the memory of Wesley's blood covering the shirt she had been wearing. Then she realized she was still wearing the scrub top he had given her last night – in her rush to get everything packed at the hotel, she hadn't even bothered to change. Not that it mattered. She decided she would take a very long shower when they reached Wesley's place.

Giles helped Wes move to the edge of the bed, pretending not to notice when the younger man's breath caught in his chest when he reached around him. He slowly untied the gown, sliding it down his shoulders and off. Now he gritted his own teeth, willing down his body's obvious arousal at a half-naked Wesley.

"All right, arms." He surveyed the scene for a moment, not liking the idea of getting Wes' head through the hole of the tee and putting too much pressure on his throat. He looked down at himself. "Hang on. We'll need to keep you in button ups until those stitches dissolve. Your throat doesn't need the added pressure of trying to force your head into a tee. I'll take the tee; you take my shirt."

Untucking his shirt, Giles undid all of the buttons before sliding it off his shoulders. He then grabbed the tee and pulled it on over his own head, not bothering to tuck it in before moving to slide the shirt he was wearing on Wesley. He did the buttons up quickly before reaching for the blanket over Wesley's lap. He could see the other man shifting uncomfortably, but decided to play it off.

"Wes, come on. They're just boxers." He sighed when Wes still didn't seem to budge. "Come on – you show me yours, and I'll show you mine." He grinned when the other man looked up at him in shock. That was enough to allow Giles to grip the blanket and pull it away. "This one is your fault," he announced, smirking at Fred.

She found herself caught between wanting to look and not wanting to be caught staring. Finally she couldn't help it and glanced over, seeing that Giles was right – she could see the effect that their kissing had on him. It made her heart flutter and skip a beat. No doubt Nurse Ratchett would have been back in there had she been hooked to a monitor as well. She glanced over at Giles and saw his smirk, which caused to her to drop her eyes, a bit embarrassed. And when she did, she saw the open button of his jeans, from which the top of his own boxers peaked. Remembering his offer to Wesley, she found herself swallowing as the image of both of them standing there half-dressed flitted through her mind.

"I like your boxers," she heard herself telling Wesley softly. "Definitely nothing to be ashamed of."

Wesley made an irritated sound, his breath catching in his throat when Giles kneeled in front of him. The older man slid the jeans up his legs, stopping just under his butt. His heart was racing – Giles was so close. All he had to do was lean in...

He reached up and pulled the leads of his chest, not wanting that nurse back in to read him the riot act. Not to mention the charade would be up if that happened. One did not have the feelings for their siblings that he felt for Giles.

"I need you to put your arms around my neck so I can lift you," Giles instructed him, his face turning serious when the younger man glared at him. "Wesley, you're still weak. I'm not going to let you fall on your face because you're too bloody proud to let me pull your trousers up. Just...humor me." He knew he was still embarrassed, so he tried to make this as quick as possible. Setting him back down, he turned his back to calm his own nerves while Wesley fastened the jeans.

Fred forced herself not to stare as Giles helped Wesley into the jeans. The tension in the room was unbelievable, like nothing she had ever felt before. It wasn't just her, and it wasn't just Giles – it was both of them causing those reactions in Wesley. And it was something she had never dealt with before, seeing the guy she cared for and just kissed also being turned on by another man. As she leaned down to pick up the ice cream cup from the floor, she watched Giles pulling up the jeans over Wesley. She didn't blame him actually. Giles was an amazing man, as amazing as Wesley. In fact, both of them were the kind of men she had always seen herself being with when she had allowed herself to think of such things. Smart, sweet and not put off by her tendency to ramble.

"Need any more help?" she asked once Wesley had finished fastening the jeans and she had tossed the cup in the trash can.

Giles did up his own jeans and refastened his belt. He had to keep his back to them to readjust himself, Wesley's proximity when he held him up was wreaking havoc on his own body. He was about to answer Fred, but an orderly entered the room with a wheelchair. He turned to see Wesley, still on the bed with his notepad in his lap. He seemed upset. Slowly, he held the notepad out to Giles. The older man looked down at the pad.

You two are determined to leave me without any dignity, aren't you? he read before passing the pad to Fred. He asked the orderly to give them a minute and then took a knee in front of Wesley.

"Wes," he called him softly, waiting for the other man to raise his eyes and look at him. "I know this is hard for you. You are by nature an independent man, not to mention as stubborn as a mule." He added the last part in a lighter tone. "But you almost died. Your body is still weak, and it's not a crime to ask for help, especially from people that care about you. We're not trying to take away your dignity; we're just worried. We don't want to see you hurt yourself again trying to do something your body isn't ready for. It's what people do when they love you."

"Giles is right - we just want to help you," Fred added, sitting back down next to him on the bed and wrapping her arm around his waist. Part of her wanted to lean her head against his shoulder, but she knew that was probably not a good idea at the moment. "I know it's hard, but believe me, it's all for you and because we love you. We wouldn't be here otherwise."

Reaching up, she rubbed her hand against his cheek. "I can't imagine what you went through before and after what happened. I can't pretend to, but you don't have to go through this alone. Not anymore."

Wesley took a deep breath through his nose and let it out. They were right. It was just so frustrating. He was used to being alone his entire life, doing things for himself. Now that he had the two people dearest to his heart suddenly underfoot, he didn't know what to make of it. He instinctively leaned his face into Fred's touch. Taking the pad from her hand, he wrote something on it with a sheepish expression.

Sorry. Just being a prat.

"Wesley, you're not being a prat. You're frustrated, that's all. You're entitled," Giles reminded him, smiling when the other man put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Wesley then turned slightly toward Fred, lovingly taking her face in his hands, and leaned forward, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Good, now that that's settled, Fred, if you can gather Wesley's things from here," he motioned toward the collection of notepads, and other small items, "I'll help him into the wheelchair and get your bag."

He chuckled when Wesley held his arms up, looking like a little boy waiting to be lifted by his father. "Smart ass," he grumbled, before moving him into the chair.

Fred had to stifle a laugh. Wesley could be stubborn, but he could also be very endearing. Quickly, she gathered everything up and put it in the bag with the still sealed ice cream cup, figuring Wesley could have it in the car if he needed it. Just as she was finishing, though, her phone suddenly started ringing in her pocket. She had forgotten to turn it off once they had returned to the hospital.

Pulling it out, she glanced down at the caller id. Charles. Having nothing to say to him, she stabbed the off button on the keypad and shoved it back in her pocket with a sigh. Would probably be best to leave it off for a day or so. She could call her parents once they got to Wesley's and tell them where she was in case they needed to reach her.

After shouldering Fred's bag, Giles turned around the room to make sure they had everything. He looked up at her when her phone rang. Noting the way her face darkened and how she stabbed at the power button when she turned it off, it could only be one person. Charles Gunn. Wanker. Fred seemed to him to be a very forgiving person in nature, and even their argument downstairs could have been chalked up to emotions, but the moment he had brought Angel to the hospital, the spiteful move had sealed his fate.

Standing behind her, he put a hand on her back in an attempt to comfort. "Okay?"

She shrugged, not sure how to answer that. Instead she just picked the bag back up from the bed and turned to look at both him and Wesley, who was settled in his wheelchair. "We getting out of here now?"

He nodded, knowing that getting her out of there was probably the best way to handle things. "Here, let me take that. You can push the wheelchair." He took the bag from her hands. "We have everything, so let's go home."

Grateful for his understanding, she nodded at him and let him pull the bag from her. "Sounds like a very good idea." She took up her position behind the wheelchair and leaned down to whisper in Wesley's ear, "Ready to go?" When he gave her the affirmative, she kissed him by his ear and then straightened back up and followed Giles out of the room and down the hall.

The paperwork for Wesley's release had been taken care of, so it wasn't long before they were exiting the hospital and heading over to where Giles had parked the car. Fred snorted softly when she suddenly realized that he had the disabled sticker on his windshield, something she hadn't noticed earlier. It definitely came in useful now.

As they got closer to the car, Wesley also noticed that Giles had parked in the handicapped spot. He arched an eyebrow toward the older man and got a shrug in return. His eyes lighted in the window, noting the reason the car had not been towed.

"Willow's idea. She didn't believe it was practical to have to park ten miles away and have to run into battle. Not when lives are at stake. All of our cars are outfitted with these. All official, especially since she hacked the DMV database and entered them in." He smiled. "Very practical, our Willow."

Opening the passenger door, he moved Wes into position. "Okay, up we go." He wrapped his arms around the younger man's waist and transferred him over to the car. "Fred, I hope you don't mind sitting in the back with the chair. Don't look at me like that, Wesley. It was one of the conditions of letting you go early. If you think your dignity is shot now, how will you feel if I have to carry you into your flat?"

"And besides, it won't be forever. Just a few days until you're strong enough," Fred assured him before turning to Giles. "And I don't mind at all. Just let me get settled first and then you can put the chair in. I'll keep a hold on it."

Circling around to the driver's side, she opened the door and climbed in, sitting down and buckling herself in. "Okay, I'm set."

Wesley nodded reluctantly. He was feeling kind of tired, but he didn't want to let Mother Hen One and Two know that. He turned his head to watch Giles settle the wheelchair in the back seat and winced when he realized he turned too far and it pulled on his stitches.

Giles got in behind the wheel and dug in his pockets to remove a pill from one of the bottles. "Fred, can you dig around in that bag for that ice cream cup? He's got to have something in his stomach to take this pill." He passed the pill to Wesley. "Try and get some of this down, and you can use my water to take your pill. I'll make something a little more substantial for you when we get you settled in at home."

Fred shifted the bag Giles had put in the backseat with the chair into her lap and pulled out the second ice cream cup, which she opened and passed forward to Wesley. "Here you go. I think it's almost completely melted by now, but it should make it easier to swallow." Once he had taken the cup, she sat back again. "Do you cook, Giles?"

He smiled when Wesley snorted. "Yes, I cook. It was a condition of my mother's relinquishing me to my Watcher Duty. Father could train me all he wanted six days a week, but Sundays were hers. We spent most of those days in the kitchen, preparing all sorts of delicacies – something we could do together. As I got older, she sensed I might start to lose interest, so she started putting it in my head that I could capture any woman in the world by cooking her a magnificent dinner. I knew it was hogwash, but I played along for her," he explained as he started the car. "We covered most of the internationals – English, Italian, Spanish, Mexican, French, Middle Eastern, and Asian. I have a special affinity for the Asian and Mexican cuisines. I also have an affinity for the spiciness of the Cajuns. Perhaps once Wesley can go back to solid foods, I'll make all of us a Cajun dinner to celebrate," He offered, pulling the car out of the spot and heading toward Wesley's flat.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," Fred said. And definitely much more appetizing that the grilled cheese sandwich she hadn't been able to finish in the hospital cafeteria. "And by the way, if you ever make me Mexican food, I'll probably worship you forever. I'd better warn you, though, because I'm not sure if Wesley may have told you, but I can eat quite a lot. It's always been something that amuses the others."

Wesley had finished his ice cream and taken his pill. He made a face as he drank – the water must have been sitting in Giles' car for at least a day. Oh well, too late to think about it now. He smiled when Fred mentioned her capacity for eating, giving Giles a confirming nod. Reaching down onto the floor, he picked up his pad and wrote one word.

Tacos. He tapped Giles on the shoulder to get him to look at the pad.

"Tacos, huh?" Giles asked aloud.

Fred scrubbed her hands over her face and chuckled a bit. "Yes, tacos. When I came back from Pylea, one of the first things I asked was if they still made tacos. I didn't know – for all I knew, they could've been found to be bad for you and banned or something. But they weren't, and Wesley kept me supplied with them all last summer." Catching his gaze in the convertible's side mirror, she gave him a smile. "At least I never tried to make him my bark enchiladas. Those needed a lot of work."

"Bark Enchiladas? Interesting." Giles glanced to the side and saw Wesley looking out the window. He smiled sadly. The younger man was so hurt emotionally – although Fred seemed to be tackling that problem head on – as well as physically. No matter what happened, he was going to worry about Wesley, but for the first time in a long time, things were in a position to help him not only heal but also to grow past what his father always told him he was. "Perhaps I'll volunteer to do the cooking from now on."

He offered that with a teasing grin, catching Fred's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Once we get inside and settled, Fred, I'll need you to find one of the markets that deliver. If I know this young pup, he's probably got an ancient canister of oatmeal, tea, a few biscuits, and all the take-away condiments one will ever need." He laughed when Wes ducked his head. "We'll stock the larder from there," he added, pulling up in front of Wesley's building.

"No problem. I know just the place."

Once they were parked, Fred waited until Giles had removed the wheelchair from the backseat before crawling out, pulling her bag and the bag of Wesley's stuff out with her. It took them a few minutes to get the chair set back up again and then to move Wesley out of the car and into it. Fred tried not to look over at the park, over at where she had found him dying. He was fine now, and she didn't want to dwell on that. She noticed Wesley looking over there, however, so she knelt in front of him and put her hand up to his face.

"Hey," she said softly. "I found you, and you're going to be fine, and I swear to God that if I ever see her again, I'm going to make sure she regrets it."

Rising up, she gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

Wesley nodded hesitantly, the feel of her lips against his helping him push back the memory of the blade slicing across his throat. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that he wasn't alone, that he had two people there that cared for him. And all those thoughts he had that night, lying in the park, bleeding, they didn't mean a thing.

"Why don't you take him inside? I'll get the rest of the things from the boot," Giles offered, moving toward the back of the car.

"Sure thing," Fred replied before pushing herself up and moving behind the wheelchair to push Wesley inside.

A couple of the building's other tenants were standing in the lobby when they entered and looked over, apparently taken aback at the site of the bandage swathing his neck. Ignoring them, she took Wesley over to the elevator and pushed the call button. While they waited, she reached over his shoulder and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and continuing to hold it as the elevator arrived and she pushed him in. Luckily, no one was in the elevator, which made the ride up to his floor infinitely easier. When the doors slid open, Fred reluctantly let go of his hand and pushed him down the hall and around the corner to his door, where she poked through the bag of his belongings from the hospital until she found his keys at the bottom. Once she unlocked and opened the door, she pushed him inside, leaving it ajar for Giles to just come in.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked, circling around to stand beside him in the entrance hall. "Couch? Bedroom? Bathroom?" She blushed as soon as that came out of her mouth and hoped her question didn't embarrass him too much. "Sorry."

Wesley let out a strangled noise, the image of him and Fred in the shower – or making love in the bath – flitting through his brain. His face turned beet red as he ducked his head. Taking the pen from his pocket with a shaky hand, he scribbled one word on his note pad.

Couch, he wrote, holding the pad up for her to see. As they went into the lounge area, Wesley looked up to see Giles toe the door all the way open, loaded with a box, Fred's bag, and what Wesley assumed were his two bags.

"Bloody hell, your neighbor is nosy," he grumbled, stepping into the flat. He kicked the door closed behind him before setting the box on the counter and the bags on the floor. "Old woman could have taught the Spanish Inquisition a thing or two."

Wesley scowled and wrote something on his pad as Giles came over to read it. That would be Mrs. Johansen, tedious old fishwife. You didn't...? He stopped writing as Giles put his hand over his.

"No, I didn't. Your business is yours. Let her use some other poor sod to fulfill her need for a hobby," Giles replied, softly. He moved his hand up to Wes' shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Fred shook her head, just imagining what Wesley's neighbor had been asking about. Three people staying in a one-bedroom apartment, their bags and boxes, Wesley's injuries – they were all fodder for a lot of gossip, she was sure.

"Wesley wanted to go over to the couch," she told Giles. "Do you want to take care of that while I put this stuff away? Then we can make a list of what we want from the market, and I'll call to have it delivered. I...uh...also need to call my parents. I should let them know where I am. Just in case."

Wesley's eyes widened – he had forgotten about Roger and Trish Burkle. Fred's relationship with her parents was dear to her, and in no way would he ever dream of interfering with that. He looked down at the pad and scribbled something down quickly before passing Fred the sheet.

Call them. Give them my number. You can use my bedroom if you need a little privacy. The groceries can wait. Wesley nodded at the unspoken question in her eyes, and Giles waited until she had the cordless and disappeared into the bedroom before moving Wesley over to the couch.

"When she's done, we can get you some of your own clothes if you like," Giles offered gently. He arched an eyebrow when Wesley seemed to blush. He looked down once the younger man wrote something else.

If you don't mind, I'd like to just stay in these. We can wash them in the laundry room tomorrow. He didn't want Giles to realize that being surrounded by the other man's scent was somewhat comforting, even if it was wreaking havoc on his senses. It made him feel...cared for.

"Wesley, sod the clothes. Of course I don't mind. I was just worried about your comfort," he replied with a smile before moving to the kitchen to put on some tea. He picked up the box of Wesley's things, intending to use the nice tea set inside. He didn't want to take too long. Leaving Wesley alone with his thoughts at this point in time could do more damage than good.

Once she had closed the door behind her, Fred walked over and sat on the bed. Breathing deeply for a few moments, she just sat there with the phone cradled to her chest. Everything had been so overwhelming, and suddenly she felt as though someone had just popped her and let out all the air. Her emotions still felt jangled even though part of her was unbelievably giddy about the fact that she and Wesley had kissed, about knowing that he did actually return the feelings she had been trying to bury because she thought he hadn't been interested. There were other things she was still trying to sort out in her mind, but at least she had finally made a decision that she knew was right.

Turning the phone on, she quickly punched in her parent's home number in Texas and waited for the line picked up.

Trish Burkle was humming happily to herself. Having been home from work for about an hour, she decided it was time to start dinner since Roger would be in from the fields in about forty-five minutes to be fed. She smiled to herself. Her life was good. She and her husband had been incredibly happy since the return of their daughter that year. As she headed into the kitchen, the phone rang, and she detoured off to answer it.

"Hello?"

Fred smiled at the sound of her mother's voice. For so long on Pylea, she had wanted to just be able to talk to her mother, to hear her voice telling her everything would be okay. And then when she had gotten back, she had convinced herself that if she did hear her, it would make it all real, so she had run away. Luckily, they had found her anyway.

"Hi, Mom, it's me," she said. "Are you busy? Some stuff's happened here, and I really needed to talk to you."

"Now, Winifred, you know I'm never to busy to talk to my daughter." The older woman frowned at hearing something in her child's voice. "You sound like you got something pretty heavy on your mind. Do I need to get your daddy? Or is this a mother/daughter call?" she asked, trying to lighten her voice.

"I...uh...I'm not sure. But you're right – it's pretty heavy. A lot's happened in the last twenty-four hours. Wesley–you remember Wesley, don't you? The really nice English guy I work with?

"Of course I remember Wesley," she replied, silently thinking about the nice young man she had met. She had noticed how he seemed to always hover near her daughter as if he was ready to protect her. It was a trait she valued, especially in their line of work.

"Well, he was hurt badly – really badly – last night, and it's caused a huge bust-up, and I broke up with Charles, and...I'm not living at the Hyperion anymore." Fred stopped a took another breath, realizing that even though that covered what had happened, that didn't even really begin to cover it.

Trish gasped softly, thinking of him hurt. "Is he...is he okay?" she asked, her brow furrowing, trying to figure how Wesley being hurt could cause such a tight knit group to break apart. "Fred, baby, tell me what happened. It might help you to get it out." She didn't want her daughter to bottle this up.

"It–oh, mom, it was horrible." She didn't really know where to start, so she decided to start with Darla. "You remember I told you 'bout Darla? Angel's old girlfriend, the vampire that gave birth to his son Connor? Well, Wesley found this awful prophecy that Angel was going to kill Connor, and he couldn't tell us–he couldn't tell me because Charles kept taking me away for other stupid stuff, and so he decided to try to take Connor away, so Angel couldn't hurt him, but some bitch who was working for that Holtz guy found him first and slit Wesley's throat and kidnapped Connor." Fred felt tears coming to her eyes as she related it all to her and curled her feet up beneath her so she was sitting almost in a ball on the bed.

"Oh, honey," Trish sighed, hearing the pain in her daughter's voice. "I'm so sorry. I know these people were all important to you." She took a deep breath, wondering about something Fred had said. "What do you mean Charles kept taking you away?"

She could guess what it meant without her saying, however. Her daughter was a beautiful, brilliant young woman with a heart of gold. Had the two men been fighting over her? She didn't like the idea of Fred being in that type of situation. But something didn't add up. If she was dating Charles, what made Wesley take a step back? She smiled sadly at the thought that entered her mind, and that made her appreciate Wesley even more. He had been thinking about Fred's happiness first.

"Charles and Angel blamed Wesley for what happened," Fred continued, not hearing her mother's last question, "and I got caught in the middle because I sided with Wesley and called his friend Giles down to help. So I left, and I'm staying at Wesley's now while he's recovering."

"I'm proud of you, darlin'. It couldn't have been easy, but you made the right choice stickin' by your friend."

"I had to. I couldn't let him go through this alone, not after what he had been through. I love him." Realizing what she had just admitted to her mother, Fred closed her eyes. Her voice dropped to an almost low whisper, "I think Charles knew that. And he knew that Wesley felt the same about me even though I wasn't so sure. He wanted to keep us apart. Because of that, Wesley got hurt."

"Fred, I knew. I saw it in Wesley's face when we visited," she admitted. "And before you get upset about that, I gotta remind you that me and your daddy knowin' didn't matter. It's your life to live, baby. We just wanted you to be happy. If that was with Charles, then it wasn't our place to say anything. I admit, though, I'm glad you feel differently now. I think Wesley will be good to you. Treat you like the treasure you are," she added with a smile. "Do you need me to come up and help? You know daddy and I can be there in a day."

"Probably wouldn't be a good idea. There's three of us staying here already what with me and Giles here to help Wesley while he gets better." Fred couldn't believe that her mother had seen it too. But she hadn't been there when Wesley had pulled away from her, making her think that he only wanted to be friends and co-workers. She had never told her about what had happened with Billy's blood either. Never would. That hadn't been Wesley, no matter how he had blamed himself. "Plus, I don't want to overwhelm him after everything that's happened."

"Okay, but you let us know if you need help. I have vacation time coming anyway," Trish replied to her daughter. She was a little disappointed that her baby didn't need her anymore, but she supposed it was part of learning that Fred was a grown up and didn't need her standing underfoot and mothering her to death anymore. "Give our love to Wesley and tell him we're prayin' for his quick recovery. And you tell this Giles he better look after you both, or daddy and I will be on our way up." She said the last part in a half-teasing voice.

"We'll be fine. I promise to let you know if we need anything. And I'll give you Wesley's phone number in case you need to reach me."

"Be more than fine, baby. You deserve so much more than 'fine'. Be happy." She reached for a pen to scribble down Wesley's number and address. "Did you want to talk to daddy? Or should I let you go so that you can get back to Wesley?"

Fred would have loved to talk to her father but felt that she had already spent too much time away from Giles and Wesley. There would be plenty of time to spend chatting on the phone later once things had settled and Wesley was taken care of. Maybe she'd take him – and Giles even if wanted to come along – to San Antonio. The farm would be a great place to really relax and spend time away from everything.

"That's okay. Just tell Dad that I love him, and I'll talk to him soon, okay?" She then gave her Wesley's number and address. "And Mom? I don't think I say it enough, but I love you too."

"I'll tell him," Trish replied, her attention drawn away from the phone for a moment by her husband coming in through the back door. She smiled. Her family might have had hundreds of miles between them, but for the first time in six years, it felt like they were together.

"Woman! Where's my dinner!" Roger called out, smirking when he saw his wife on the phone. "Tell those busybodies from the bridge club to let you go. You have a hungry husband."

"Oh, you hush, Roger Burkle. I'm talking to our daughter!" she shot back with a smile, watching his face light up. ""No, she has to go. She'll talk to us later." She would explain everything to him once she got off the phone. "I'll let you go, Fred. Remember, we love you so much."

Fred felt a warm fuzzy feeling spread through her at that. "Thanks, Mom. Talk to you later."

With that, they said their goodbyes, and she pressed the off button on the phone. God, she missed her parents. However, as much as she would have loved to have them visit, it wasn't the time. After taking a few more moments to herself, she slid off the bed and walked back out into the living room where Wesley was still on the couch.

Wesley smiled to himself, knowing the second Fred stepped into the room. It was as if a warm blanket had enveloped him. He looked up at her, his heart skipping a beat at the happiness on her face. Talking to her parents seemed to have strengthened her spirit.

"Hey, thanks for letting me call them. It was so good to hear my mother's voice." She smiled at him and set the cordless down on the coffee table. "Where's Giles?"

He pointed toward the kitchen and, looking down at the pad, started writing, Knowing Giles, he's making tea. And you don't have to thank me for letting you call your parents. If you need to talk to them, you have a standing invitation to use my phone. He turned the pad for her to read.

She smiled at him as she read the message and reached over to run her hand through his hair as she stood next to him. "Mom asked if we needed anymore help, but I told her we'd be fine." Glancing over in the direction of the kitchen, she could hear Giles moving around. "Do you need any help in there?"

Your mum is a good woman. Tell her I said thank you for the offer, Wesley wrote. He looked up as Giles entered the room with his tea tray and a plate of biscuits he didn't remember buying. He looked at friend, the question in his blue eyes.

"Your ancient biscuits should come with a disclaimer," Giles teased. "I brought these with me. Little taste of home." He knew the younger man hadn't seen England since he left the Academy. They had talked about this specific topic on many occasions – how they were content with their lives but did miss England. "I went through considerable effort to hide these from Xander, so do enjoy them. They should tide us over until we can order groceries."

Wesley looked down at the tray to note that two of the biscuits were on a separate plate. Giles had taken the time to break them into manageable pieces. He was touched.

"Just take it slow, let them soften in your mouth, and you should be fine," his friend said.

Fred sat down on the couch, looking at the cookies–biscuits with interest. The differences in American and British English never ceased to interest her, especially considering the first time she had heard Wesley talking about craving a biscuit, she had brought him a fluffy biscuit back from the diner. He had taken it with a smile, but later, she had discovered that wasn't what he had really wanted. She had been so embarrassed but touched that Wesley hadn't complained about her mistake.

"I've never seen anything quite like those," she said. "Much nicer than the cheap chocolate chip cookies I used to keep hidden in my room."

"Yes, well, Xander's appetite is notorious. Most of my profits from the Magic Box are spent trying to restock the cupboards after a night of research with Xander Harris. I send for a few items from home every so often, so I usually try to hide them from him because I swear that boy can smell a pizza being ordered within a ten mile radius." Giles sighed, but he knew he wouldn't change anything or any one of them for the world. He picked up one of the biscuits, looking at it with a faint smile. "The outside is flaky, which shouldn't be too bad for Wes. The inside is a chocolate cream. Cadbury's. These little things got me through many a research night at the Academy." He popped one of them into his mouth.

Reaching out, she took one of the biscuits and took a bite. Giles was right – it was quite flaky, and several crumbles fell onto the front of her scrub top. She really needed to do something about showering and changing into a clean set of clothes from her bag. "These are really good," she said before finishing off the rest of it. "The more you talk about your friends from Sunnydale, the more I want to meet them. They sound like some really great people."

"They are. Let's see, there's Willow and Tara, our witches. Willow by herself is quite powerful, but that power is unfocused. She's young, though, so that will come with age. Tara is shy, but she has the truest heart I have ever known. She's not as powerful as Willow is though she is far more wise than she lets on. She gives Willow focus. I think that's why they're such a formidable team when they cast together. There's also Anya; she's running the Magic Box while I'm away. Anya is a former vengeance demon who was made human when the alternate me broke Cordelia's wish. She tries and can be quite kind, but she's also new to the human aspect of the word 'tact'. So when you meet, don't take anything she says personally." He smirked. "She's says what's on her mind whether we want to hear it or not. Then there's Xander. He's Anya's boyfriend, but he's been with us from the beginning. His biggest asset is his devotion to his friends. He'll bend over backwards to help you, constantly breaking the tension of an apocalypse with a well-placed quip. Next, there's the bane of my existence, Spike, also known as William the Bloody."

He nodded when Wesley's eyes grew large in recognition. "I know. But you remember his alterations. Last year, he was caught by a government agency, and a chip was implanted in his brain. It prevents him from feeding on humans, so he sates his demon's blood lust by helping us wipe out the demon population of Sunnydale. And as much as I hate to say it, after Buffy's loss, he's been a godsend on patrolling. I allow him to stay around unmolested mainly because he has a soft spot for Dawn. He would die to protect her. Dawn is Buffy's younger sister," he explained as he glanced over at Fred. "Add myself to the mix, and you have a very rag-tag group of individuals that try and keep the Hellmouth from swallowing Sunnydale whole."

Fred could see the look in his eyes when he mentioned Buffy and remembered their conversation the previous evening, about how Wesley's phone calls after her death had kept Giles from going crazy with grief. "Sounds like you've done an amazing job," she told him, knowing it couldn't have been easy. "Before all this, before what happened to me, I never imagined this sort of things really existed. I actually thought that aliens were more likely to exist than demons. Shows you how wrong I was."

Wesley rolled the remnants of the biscuit around on his tongue, relishing in the rich chocolate taste. He smiled at Fred's comments about aliens and looked down at his pad.

Your father's influence if I remember correctly. He laughed softly and was about to turn the pad toward her when Giles' soft voice suddenly interrupted them.

"No." His face had fallen when Fred commended him. "My Slayer is dead, so I failed," he remarked before slumping back on the couch. He had failed Buffy when she needed him most. He had mentored the greatest Slayer in the history of the Council, and he had lost her. The feeling of such a failure left him feeling numb. So much so that he didn't even feel Wesley's arm drape over his shoulder until he felt the squeeze.

As Wesley put his arm over his shoulder, Fred slid off to the couch onto the floor with him and placed her hand on his other one. "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking from him up to Wesley and then back to Giles. She really had done this time. Good Ol' Fred, always saying the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time, and she had no clue how to make it better. "I'm sure–she would never–oh, God...I'm sure she wouldn't want you to blame yourself. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up..."

Giles sniffed, trying to tamp down on the overwhelming sense of grief that wrapped tight around his chest and constricted it brutally. He couldn't keep doing this. He was supposed to be here looking after Wesley, and he was falling apart over the mere mention of his lost Slayer. He would be of no use to them if he couldn't pull himself together.

"No, you didn't know. It's...it's something I have to come to terms with." He turned his hand over in hers and squeezed gently. "I don't want you to think you can't talk to me because you're worried you might say the wrong thing. I want both of you to be able to talk to me about anything." He moved his free hand up to his shoulder, placing his hands over Wesley's. "I'm sorry," he apologized while attempting to shake the feeling off. He smiled sadly when Wesley's hand moved, bringing his head closer. The younger man's forehead touched his temple briefly in a show of silent camaraderie before pulling back.

You don't have to apologize. You're here for me, but it goes both ways. Just because you're here doesn't mean you shut off the fact that you're still grieving, Wesley wrote. Besides, it's nice to know that you're human like the rest of us. He smirked, happy when it got a better smile out of his friend.

Relieved when Giles smiled, Fred looked over at Wesley and mouthed 'Thank you' to him. She was glad that Giles didn't hold it against her and understood that she hadn't meant to bring up any bad memories.

Wesley nodded. Fred really meant no harm in what she said. She honestly didn't know, and he didn't want her to feel as if she had to walk on eggshells around Rupert, especially when they both were staying here.

Rising up onto her knees, she hesitantly withdrew her hand from Giles' and took one of the cups to pour a cup of tea. She then prepared it the way she knew Wesley liked it and handed it over to him. He took the cup from her with a gentle smile. Feeling that the cup was lukewarm, he looked over at Giles, touched by the thought.

"That's why it took so long." Giles shrugged. "You have enough to worry about without burning your throat. We can all drink lukewarm tea for a bit."

"How do you take it?" Fred asked Giles with a shy smile while pouring another cup.

He glanced up at her in surprise. "Just black, please," he replied. She didn't have to pour his tea for him, but he realized it was just in her nature. Wesley was right – she had such a kind demeanor. There was something about the girl that just put you at ease.

Nodding, she handed the cup over to him then poured a cup for herself and added a bit of milk and a small spoonful of sugar. Once she had finished, she moved up to the couch again, leaning back and taking a sip. "This is really good tea even lukewarm."

English style, Wesley wrote, balancing the pad on his legs while holding the cup in his other hand. God, he missed that. Even in Sunnydale, the only time he could get a decent cup of tea was if he could get Rupert to make it. He cringed inwardly, knowing that his own behavior at the time was what had practically guaranteed that those occasions had been very rare.

"Well, Wesley has the set, which, gathering from the layer of dust I wiped off of it, didn't get much use," Giles chided him, gently. "But it's an easy enough process. I can teach you how to make it like this." He knew it would be better if they both knew how. That way Wesley could get a good cup of tea anytime he wanted it.

Fred smiled at Giles' offer. "I'd really like that. My knowledge of tea goes so far as placing a bag in the cup. Although I do have my mother's recipe for Sun Tea to make iced tea during the summer. I used to sit out on the porch when I was a kid and watch the tea move through the water from the bags she used...I think that was when I first became interested in osmosis."

"Speaking of recipes, we should start on that list soon. I'd like to get the groceries ordered, and then we can all clean up."

She took another sip of the tea and then looked over at Wesley. "Do you want to be our list taker since you have the pad? Then I can call the market and place the order."

Giles watched Wesley finish his tea before flipping the page on his pad. He took the cup from his hand and set it on the table. "I think pastas should be okay for you. So we'll need several kinds – linguini, angel hair, spaghetti. The penne has ridges, so I don't want to chance that. Heavy cream. Basil. Pine nuts. A few tins of plain spaghetti sauce with nothing in it. Onions. Fruits. Vegetables. A few tins of biscuits. Perhaps some crisps for Fred." He began running over some of the things he found in Wesley's kitchen in his head. "Several boxes of instant potatoes and some porridge for you." He chuckled when Wes made a face at the instant potatoes. "Don't worry. I'll add to it so that it's actually edible. Can't be any worse than that hospital mush. And better double up on the fruit. In a day or two, you should be able to handle a fruit salad."

Fred added her own wants to the list – pancake mix, milk, some deli meats, eggs, lemonade, iced tea mix, a couple of loaves of bread, some cans of soup, cheese, and several pints of ice cream. The last request, she saw, brought a smile to Wesley's face. Once he had a few things of his own on the list, Fred took the piece of paper from him and, after setting her tea cup down, grabbed the cordless phone from the coffee table.

"Learned the market number a long time ago now. Was the only way to keep from starving when–well, before." She sighed and shook her head as she punched the number in. With only her and Angel living full-time at the Hyperion, and Angel not tending to eat since he was a vampire, she had realized very quickly that if she didn't do the shopping for herself, the fridge tended not to get stocked.

"No, different address now," she told the guy on the other end. "And this won't be going on the Hyperion tab." The idea of sticking it on there did briefly appeal to her, but she decided it would probably be best not to. No point in riling them up over there. She gave the order-taker Wes' address and borrowed his pen for a moment to jot down the total. "Thanks. See you soon."

Turning the phone off again, she passed the pen back. "All right – they said that the groceries should be delivered in about an hour."

Giles looked down at the total and dug out his wallet. He pulled out a hundred and four fifties and tossed them on the table before placing his wallet back in his pocket. He froze when he felt Wesley's hand on his arm. The other man pointed to a vase on the bookshelf. Getting up from the couch, Giles went over to the vase and looked inside. There was a roll of money resting in the bottom.

"No, Wesley, let me do this. Neither of you are working right now, and you just incurred a fairly sizable hospital bill. My family's estate is considerable, and I still collect my Watcher's check. Not to mention the Magic Box is doing rather well. Paying for groceries is not going to break me, I promise."

Fred had just gone pulled her wallet from her purse when Giles said that and looked up, quite grateful to him. "Probably a good thing because it would me. All I have is a ten-dollar bill." She sighed and shoved her wallet back in. Any money she had was what she managed to scrape together herself or borrow from her parents when she really needed help. Angel hadn't even given her anything from the $10,000 they had got from the Nahdrahs when she was the one who had almost had her head removed. And she had just let him get away with it.

Dropping her purse back on the table, she looked down at her scrub top again. "You said something about cleaning up while we waited for the delivery?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get my shower first. That way I can start dinner while you're in there." Giles smiled at her nod.

Gathering his bag from by the door, he opened it, removing a pair of boxers, a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. He then grabbed his travel bag and headed into the bathroom. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he scowled. Two days worth of beard stubble, and he looked like a lecherous old college professor. Resigned, he stepped back from the sink and started peeling off his clothes.

Wesley sighed, knowing that Giles had a point, but it didn't mean he still didn't feel like he was taking advantage of his friend. Once he had disappeared into the bathroom, he looked up at Fred, wearing a sheepish expression.

He's something else, Wesley wrote, knowing that the woman he loved was fond of the other man already. I meant to ask you before, but how are your parents?

"He's definitely unique. Just like you," she said with a grin as she circled around the couch to sit down with him. "And my parents are fine. My mother offered to practically jump the next plane or bus to come help, but I told her it was crowded enough here already." She reached over, resting her hand on Wesley's arm. "They both send their love and wishes for recovery too. I didn't realize how much my mother likes you until I spoke to her. She–she thinks you'll be good to me." At this, she gave an embarrassed little laugh and looked down.

Tell your mum I said thank you. I like your parents too. They're so... He paused, wondering if he should write the next part. They're good people, loving. They would do anything for you. You're lucky.

He froze when she seemed embarrassed about what she had said. Setting down his pad, he turned slightly to face her. Gripping her chin in his fingers, he steered her gaze to his. 'I love you, Fred,' he mouthed, part of him waiting for her to walk out and head back to Texas.

She had known, of course. Known because Giles had told her at the hospital. She met his eyes, feeling her stomach fluttering and her heart pounding. "I–I love you too," she admitted softly. "Have for a while. I–I just didn't think that you–that you did when you pulled away. So...so I made a stupid mistake that I wish I hadn't, and that led to a whole lot more until I didn't really realize what was going on." She sighed and let her fingers crawl up his arm to his face. "I wish I could change it. I wish I had known."

Wesley placed his hand over hers on his face. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, not only relishing this moment but also needing to say something, even in a whisper. She needed to hear it. Concentrating, he managed to get his injured vocal cords to cooperate.

"Doesn't matter. Here now," he whispered, tamping down on the pain and ignoring the copper taste of blood in his throat. His free hand came up, fingers combing through her dark hair. 'So beautiful,' he then mouthed, not wanting to push his luck. Knowing Rupert, he would drive him back to the hospital if he discovered he had been speaking.

"You shouldn't be talking," she whispered, unable to be stern with him as tears came to her eyes when she saw what he then mouthed to her. "Plenty of time for that later. I promise I'm not going anywhere."

Tilting her head slightly, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "You're pretty wonderful and handsome too, you know."

Wesley pulled back, smiling. He reached for the discarded pad, bringing it back to his lap.

I have always tried to be good to you. It's no less than you deserve, he wrote before swallowing thickly, the memories threatening to overwhelm him. After Billy, I shouldn't have pulled away. Was terrified. But I think you deserve to know why. My parents–I'm certain you remember Giles mentioning my father, telling me how unlike him I am? When she nodded, he continued, My father isn't a very nice man. He wanted an obedient Watcher, not a son. As a boy, any mistake I made was met with physical and emotional retribution. How I had failed him as a son and that he would do whatever it took to make me like him. Even if it killed me. When I...

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to finish.

When I hurt you, I thought that if I could hurt someone I loved like that, that I was becoming him. And that thought scared the hell out of me.

Fred felt the tears collecting in her eyes start rolling down her cheeks as she read Wesley's note. "I–." She raised her head to look into his eyes, suddenly understanding everything. I don't know what kind of man I am anymore. "It wasn't you. I know it wasn't. Because a man like that wouldn't worry about whether he was hurting someone and wouldn't care. That alone tells me Giles is right – that you aren't anything like your father."

I know that now. But when you showed up at my door, I was still dealing with the fear. By the time I had realized that for myself, Cordelia talked me into telling you how I felt. That was the night of the ballet. When I came to find you, I saw you kissing Gunn. He paused, letting the memory go. You seemed happy. What I felt didn't matter. So I stayed quiet.

She gave him a sad smile, wishing that things had gone differently but knowing that she couldn't change that now. "Thank you for confiding in me." She placed her hand over his heart. "It means more than I can say. And I know you'll be good to me because that's who you are – who you really are."

He placed his hand over hers. I'll try to be. You deserve to be treated like a queen.

"I'm not a queen; I'm just Fred," she said feeling a bit self-conscious at the idea of being compared to a queen. She had grown up on a farm and been a slave for years. She had never felt like a queen or anywhere near grand enough to be a queen. Now Cordelia, she was a...

Fred's eyes drifted back up the previous note to Cordelia's name as she thought about her, and she re-read what Wesley had written. Cordelia talked me into telling you how I felt. But at the shop, she had been talking about–oh, God. "She didn't mean Charles. She was talking about you. You were the one she meant when she said at the dress shop that she thought we were perfect together..."

Probably. She caught me that morning. I had been trying to do research on a demon from one of Cordelia's visions. She caught me daydreaming about you. He smiled shyly. And you could never be just anything. And that night of the ballet, you looked breathtaking. I... He looked toward a desk in the corner. There was a man with a camera there that night. I pulled him aside before we left. The picture is in the top drawer of my desk, if you'd like to see it.

"I'd love to see that," she told him, touched by the thought that he would have wanted to keep a memento of that night even though he cared enough about her happiness to step back if that was what she thought she wanted. Well, now she was going to be concerned about his happiness. His recovery and his happiness. "Promise me something, Wesley – don't ever feel that you can't tell me anything, no matter what it is. Know that you can always come to me and tell me anything, and we'll work through it together."

I can't promise that if it'll hurt you. After you kissed Gunn, how would you have felt if I confessed my feelings? Confused would have been the least of it. You were happy, and Gunn was my friend. I couldn't do that to either of you. He looked up, seeing that she had gotten up to retrieve the picture from his desk and finished the note for her to read when she got back. But I will try. I won't say that I wouldn't do the same thing if it means your health or happiness. All I can promise is to try.

Fred looked at the picture as she crossed back over and sat down, smiling when she saw it – it was of the two of them from when they were standing out in the upper level of the lobby during intermission. Both of them were looking at each other, and she remembered that moment. She immediately understood why Wesley had never showed any of them the picture until now.

Sitting down, she saw him holding out the pad and leaned over to read it, her eyes flicking quickly over what he had written. He was right. It would have confused things had he said something after what had happened between her and Charles that night. It didn't stop her from wishing he had been able to come to her, but he was right.

"Trying is enough. I just want you to know that I'm here for you, however and whenever. I want you to be happy too. After everything you've been through, you deserve it too."

I have everything I need to make me happy, right here in this flat. Everything else is just the icing on the cake, Wesley wrote before allowing his eyes to stray over the picture in her hand. I remember that moment. You smiled at me, and I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I have others around here somewhere, but that has always been my favorite.

Giles came out of the shower, hair still damp and face freshly shaven. He had his shirt in his hands and paused for a moment to slide it on. He looked up to see Fred and Wesley talking. Walking up behind Fred, he saw the photo in her hand and whistled appreciatively.

"Don't you two look fantastic," he remarked with a smile. Fred in her lovely gown looked stunning, and Wesley in his tuxedo looked absolutely delicious.

"We do clean up pretty good, don't we? Too bad I had to return that dress. I really did love it." She looked down at herself again. "And speaking of cleaning up...I really should as soon as the groceries get here."

"Yes, you do. Absolutely breathtaking," he commented, referring to both of them. "Although I've seen Wesley in a tux before."

He smiled, seeing the other man hide his face in his hands. Fred, however, looked rather...interested.

"We both got stuck chaperoning the Sunnydale High prom. Formal wear – had to dress appropriately," Giles explained, knowing Wesley was embarrassed remembering the blueberry scone incident. When the doorbell rang, he scooped the money off the table, and turned to answer it. "Thank you, you can set it right over here, I'll take everything into the kitchen. Also, I was wondering if you could start an account for Rupert Giles. I'll be here for some time." He passed over the money for the current bill. "Keep the change on this."

"Wow, thanks, mister," one of the kids replied, knowing it was about a $40 tip. "And no problem about the account. I'll give my boss your name. Just call later to secure the account with a credit card."

"Very good."

"Do you want help with those, Giles?"

He turned is attention toward Fred once the delivery boys had left. "I think the men-folk can handle this," he teased. "Go on, we'll be fine."

"Okay, if you're sure." She laughed when both of them waved her away. "All right, all right. Didn't realize I was that stinky."

She opened her bag and pulled out one of her dresses that she could just slip on once she was done showering as well as fresh underclothes and her shampoo and conditioner. She decided she'd just borrow whatever soap Wesley had in there and, with a small wave to both of them, headed into the bathroom. She was glad to be able to slip out of the scrub top and the jeans she had been wearing for what seemed like forever now – there were splatters of dried blood on her jeans that she hadn't noticed before. God, she hoped Wesley hadn't seen them.

Turning on the shower so that it was good and hot, she stepped underneath it and felt herself sag into the wall as the water ran over her. She felt so tired, but unlike before, it was in good way now. She'd clean up, go back out there and start the next part of her life.

"I know you haven't had much cause to lately, but you should do that more." He nodded toward the sound of the running water. "Fred, she put that smile on your face, and I'll always be grateful to her for doing so," he explained, gathering up a half a dozen bags in each arm. "When you smile, it lights up your face, takes ten years off of you. I'm looking forward to seeing it more."

He took the first batch of bags into the kitchen, letting Wesley interpret what he said any way he wanted. Pulling the grapes from one of the bags, he grabbed a small bowl and pulled a bunch off of the stems. Taking the bowl, he went out to collect the rest of the bags.

"Here, work on these while I get dinner started," he instructed, passing the bowl over. When he reached down to get the other bags, Wesley held the pad out to him.

I told her I loved her. And a little about father.

"This relationship is yours and Fred's, Wesley. Your father has been trying to destroy you since you were a boy. Don't let him in this time. It's as simple as that. You know your father; he'll try and make you choose," Giles cautioned him. He waited a few moments while Wes scribbled down something else.

No choice. It will always be her.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Now eat while I get dinner started," he told the younger man, heading back toward the kitchen. He heard the sound of tearing paper and laughed when he felt the wad hit him in the back. Pausing a moment, he scooped up the ball to open it.

Yes, mother.

"Why, you cheeky little... Eat," he ordered the smirking man before continuing into the kitchen. Once the groceries were put away, he decided on something simple for dinner, not wanting to rub in the fact that Wes couldn't have solid foods. Chicken soup for all of them, grilled cheese sandwiches for he and Fred, and a small portion of garlic mashed potatoes for Wesley. It didn't take long for him to make. Plating everything up and portioning the soup into bowls, he placed them all on a serving tray, which he carried out to the dining table.

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