Ghosts of Days Gone By, Wesley

It was a feeling most odd. Angel, a vampire who had spent most of the twentieth century isolating himself from the rest of the humanity, was slowly starting to miss the company he had shared since meeting Doyle and Cordy in Los Angeles all those years ago. It had taken some time since the fracturing of Angel Investigations for him to feel it, being alone was not a new sensation. But, as he sat in his apartment above his office, Angel could feel it now. He hadn't seen a familiar face in at least a week, save for the polaroid he currently caressed within his fingertips. The image in the photo was, in retrospect, quite haunting. But it had served as the gang's unofficial “family portrait”. Cordelia, Wesley, Gunn, Fred, Lorne and Angel himself surrounding the newly born Connor, a sense of pure joy and pride expressed on each of their faces. It must have been taken before Wes discovered the false prophecy of the Nyazian Scrolls.

Cordelia's was the first face he was drawn to. She was always the first thing on his mind. As bitter as he was towards the Powers That Be for her death, he had some appreciation that they didn't let her legacy be as a coma victim. That they allowed her one more day of doing what she did best: fighting the good fight and inspiring those around her to do the same. As much as he thought about Cordy, doing so never got any less painful. She had saved him so many times, even if she didn't realise it, and going forth without her was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

Wesley was next. A man with whom Angel's relationship hadn't always run smoothly, even from the beginning when his attempts to bring Faith to justice greatly hampered his own attempts to save her from darkness. But, occasional issues aside, he had proved himself to be an incredibly valuable ally and someone Angel would always want on his side. But right now, as a messenger of Wolfram & Hart, Angel did not trust him. He was, for all intents and purposes, the enemy.

Charles Gunn was the one with whom Angel's relationship had changed the least. He may have shed the suits and gone back to using hubcap axes, but he could at least still consider him an ally, even if from a distance. He didn't like the fact that Gunn had gone back to his gang, after coming so far away from his past life, but if it helped him re-establish his purpose and who he was, Angel would let him be. In time, he hoped that Gunn would come back.

Winifred Burkle. He had been the handsome man who saved her. He had been the conflicted soul who had momentarily contemplated letting thousands of innocents die in exchange for her life. A symbol of the destructive nature Angel had embraced when he agreed to run LA's branch of Hell Incorporated. In her place, an electric-haired loose cannon. Illyria was unpredictable, extremely dangerous, Angel wanted her on his side, he just didn't know if he could have her there. Though, perhaps it was better to keep an eye on her. She seemed to want to do good. Who was Angel to deny her that?

There was almost always a pang of regret whenever Angel thought of Lorne. How he reduced the jovial, music loving empath demon into a cold blooded killer. When Angel saw him last, there was a look of emptiness in his eyes, like there was nothing left beneath his green skin. He had personally shut down the disco ball and songs within the Pylean native. His current location was unknown to Angel. It was best left that way. Maybe he would show up again one day...if not, Angel could not blame him.

Finally, there was his own son. Connor, before all of his innocence had been stripped away from him in Quor'toth. That is, if you truly could be innocent, as the bastard son of two vampires. It was simultaneously painful and embarrassing that the only time Connor had been truly happy was when Angel had given him a new, normal, life. He would always be there for his son, nonetheless, just as he hoped Connor would always want to be a part of his life.

Once again, Wesley was proven by the Senior Partners how much he was worth to them. It was hardly as if he needed any kind of reminder about it. Wesley couldn't quite think of a time when they let him forget that he was the puppet on a string, which they could manipulate however they pleased to. The feeling that he was nothing more than a toy, the object of their amusement, was much more acute after Wesley discovered that him and the Liaison that had made such a terrible reputation for himself were one and the same person, a discovery which he still reeled from. The ghost of a man had done some pretty reckless things during his life, beginning with kidnapping a child because a prophecy said that his father might hurt it, leading up to torturing a junkie to get information about Angelus or shooting someone in the knee because they contradicted an order he gave. Of course, the fact that he shot what he thought to be his own father was not something to be forgotten. It might have turned up to be only a robot wearing the old man's face but Wesley never suspected anything when he pulled the trigger. Yet with all the horrible things that he had done when his heart was still beating in his chest, nothing could compare with the things which Cain was said to have done.

Mindless murders, committed only for his sick pleasure, hurting people because he could, not to mention what he had done to people which Wesley knew and which he would have considered friends, in past times. The very thought that Cain was responsible for Fred's unexpected return wouldn't have been that horrible to live with if Wesley hadn't found out from Illyria about the way in which his monstrous counterpart taunted the loved of his life. Obviously, Cain was also responsible for the fact that she couldn't stay much longer than she did. She couldn't stay... for the second time, some creature that thought itself to be greater, more powerful, didn't allow her to stay in a world which she shouldn't have left so soon. It didn't take a great stretch of mind to imagine how much satisfaction Cain might have taken out of it. According to Illyria, the Liaison was taking great satisfaction in hurting everything that Wesley once held dear and it seemed that he was quite successful at it.

Once again, Wesley found himself at the doors of Angel Investigations, carrying a message from the Senior Partners. Every time they forced him to come to this place it felt worse than the previous one, even more so now when the rift between him and his former team had become as great as a canyon, metaphorically speaking. Cain's existence and his deeds had ensured that chances of reconciliation between him, Angel and Gunn were zero, a thought which Wesley... was no longer certain what he thought of. Sighing deeply, the ghost finally decided to enter the office and get his mission done with. After passing though the door as if it were made of air, he advanced inside the office, halting in his footsteps when he caught sight of the ensouled vampire who lead the agency. Instead of a greeting, Wesley cleared his throat to get his attention. ”I won't be here long, I was simply sent to deliver a message.” Better to clear that from the get go, wasn't it?

It would have been too easy to continue to sit and stare at that photograph, ignore the world around him and choose to live in a constant looping memory of that (relatively) happy time. Part of Angel felt that that would indeed be better, but it definitely would have been too easy. Unfortunately, a champion's life was never going to be easy. In order to reach that sometimes metaphorical, sometimes literal prize, hardships would have to be plenty...isolation would have to be a friend...and the ability to rise above that would have to be essential. In all the years of Angel's undead life, there had only ever been one moment in which he thought about embracing the express ticket to hell. The First, during the Christmas period of 1998, had convinced him that life for everyone would be better if he wasn't around. That he was too dangerous to carry on existing, that his suicide was for the greater good. Though an unexplained snow storm prevented Angel from going through with suicide by sunlight, The First's words had never left him...mainly because they were ones which Angel had thought about for over a century previous.

Everything he touched seemed to decay. Every life he interacted with seemed to end up worse off. There was not a friend of his in that photograph who he could say was better off now than when they never knew him. Hell, half of them were dead. Perhaps Angel was too dangerous, even if it wasn't physically. Before any more reflecting could be done the haunting silence that the brooding demon was experiencing found itself jarred by the particular sound of a throat being cleared, followed by a familiar, accented, equally haunting voice. He and Wesley Wyndam-Prye had never always been on the best of terms whilst the former Watcher was alive. There had even been a time when Angel had tried to kill him. But one thing which Angel always had for him was respect and the trust that he always acted with the best intentions in mind.

His death, and subsequent afterlife, had changed that.

“I'm all ears. Deliver it and then get out.” Perhaps Angel was being unnecessarily harsh with his intonation. But, as of lately, Wesley's presence rattled the vampire in a way than any demon or lawyer simply could not. Was it the fact that this representative of the enemy was a man who knew Angel better than most people? Knew his secrets, knew his fears, knew his weaknesses? Or was it the guilt which Angel felt, practically having signed Wes' death warrant when he sent him to face the powerful warlock who murdered him?

If someone would have told young Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Head Boy of the Watcher's Academy, that his existence would become so intricately connected to Angel's one day, he would have proceeded at scoffing at them and deeming them insane, perhaps declaring that a Wyndam-Pryce would never stoop himself to the level of becoming close to a vampire. Little did young Wesley know about the mysterious ways in which life worked. While he had been enrolled in the Academy, Wesley hadn't known much about Angel. Angelus was the name with which all the Watchers in training were familiar, the prize towards which all of them aimed, along to the other members of the so called “Fanged Four”. Silly boys and girls, all of them wished to be able to say, one day, that their Slayer had been the one to take out the Scourge of Europe. For a brief while, Wesley even considered writing his paper on Angelus but his father's comments regarding this choice made him reconsider.

The events in Sunnydale and his early days in Los Angeles changed Wesley's preconceptions about Angelus – about Angel. The young Watcher learned that it was possible for a vampire to be good and to do good and his attitude slowly changed. Before he even realized it, the vampire with a soul had turned into his friend. No, that was not entirely accurate. Angel had become that single person which he could honestly refer to as his best friend. It was because Wesley considered Angel his best friend that he took Connor away when all signs pointed to the fact that the vampire would kill him: he did not wish Angel's conscience to be burdened with such a heavy crime. In retrospect, the manner in which he helped had not been the best one and it set in motion events which brought them to the place in which they found themselves today. There would have been no need for a deal with Wolfram and Hart if Connor had not spent his childhood in the hell dimension where Holtz took him and the hunter had the baby because Wesley had been foolish enough to fall for Justine's lies. He tried to help his friend but he ended up ruining lives, his own included.

That friendship, fragile up to the last days of Wesley's life, was not completely gone. Instead there was anger, grudge, hatred on both sides. Angel's response, its tone, it cut through Wesley, no matter how much he had braced himself for it beforehand. ”Right”, he muttered, looking away from the ensouled vampire. ”The Senior Partners claim that an artifact that belongs to them is currently in your possession. They ask that you return it to the Wolfram and Hart office within a week, or else...” Wesley paused, having that strange sensation that his throat was suddenly tighter. ”Or else they shall be forced to send...their best man to retrieve it.” He could not bring himself to say the name: Cain.