FIC: Undead (Investigation) (Angel/Wesley, FRC)
Title: Undead (Investigation)
Author: soft_princess
Website: Fly With Me
Date: March 8, 2009
Word count: 1,450
Fandom: BtVS/AtS
Pairing: Angel/Wesley
Rating: FRC
Disclaimer: Joss owns, I don't.
Spoilers/setting: Post-NFA; no comics spoilers.
Summary: "We'll have to change our name to Undead Investigation, now." Angel's try at humour didn't raise more than a smile from Wesley.
Note: Written for bruttimabuoni in the Vampires round @ maleslashminis. Request found after the fic.
Thanks to mireille719 for the readthrough.
* * *
Angel hadn't seen any of his crew in over three hours now. He'd told them to meet at the Hyperion if they could, but he was the only one who made it. So far.
They chose to fight, he reminded himself. Maybe it was his fault that the city was in ruins--if he hadn't precipitated the apocalypse, there might not have been this much damage--but his friends, his crew, they chose to fight; he hadn't forced them.
It didn't help him feel any less guilty.
He was reaching into the fridge, sparing a thought to whatever deity was listening, when he heard someone behind him. Angel didn't jump. He picked up his cup of blood from the top shelf, drank a long swallow, and waited. He couldn't tell who was there, couldn't hear a heartbeat, but he knew he wasn't alone.
"Angel," someone said quietly.
"You're supposed to be dead." Angel finished his cup, put it down calmly on the counter, and gripped the edge on shaking hands. "Illyria said she'd seen you die."
"I am. She did."
Angel slowly turned around and leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He could see through Wesley. Through him. Angel sighed and nodded. "Got something you have to do?"
In his experience with ghosts, they were always there because they'd left something undone, something important. Angel couldn't think what it would be with Wesley.
"I don't know," Wesley admitted. He looked like he was standing on the floor, not floating or flying or whatever ghosts did. "I haven't gotten a speech or anything. I just... I woke up and my body was... well, you can imagine."
Angel nodded again and reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. "No one made it."
"Gunn's turned," Wesley told him, his tone turning almost cold. "You'll have to do something about it."
"What can I do? And how do you know?" It wasn't like ghosts were all knowing. Were they?
"I just know," Wesley said with a shake of his head. "Illyria'll be back. She's taking care of a few stragglers. Spike's feeding."
Angel didn't ask on what or how Spike was feeding; he didn't need to know. He walked out of the kitchen into the lobby and sat down on a bench with a thump. Screwing up was a talent of his; getting his friends killed as well. He'd have to hunt down Gunn tonight. Tomorrow. Angel needed some rest, and to add to the atmosphere of gloom spreading over the city, the sky had broken into a thunderstorm. He'd get nothing done tonight.
Wesley broke the silence. "You need to sleep." When Angel raised his eyes, Wesley looked concerned. "The world isn't going to end tonight. It's not going to end at all. You did what you set out to do, Angel."
"No, I didn't," Angel argued. "There's been too much death."
"That's how it works. You can't avert the apocalypse without paying a price. I have no regrets."
"Gunn might."
"Do you still have the orb of Thessula we kept in the safe?"
"Huh." Angel got to his feet, quickly, and almost ran into the office. He'd forgotten about that. After the last time they'd played with Angel's soul--with disastrous consequences--Wesley had suggested they keep one, just to be safe. It should still be in place.
Ghosts could, apparently, still use their magical powers. It took less time than Angel remembered from having it done to him more than once. He couldn't see Gunn, but he could empathize with the pain he knew accompanied the spell. When Wesley was done, Angel put away everything. He sat down again, head in his hands, and they waited. An hour later, Charles Gunn was stumbling into the lobby, dirty and dazed, and wet from the rain.
"What the fuck did you do?" he muttered, his eyes on Wesley, unwavering.
"What I had to," Wesley murmured. "Get some sleep, we'll discuss what happens next in the morning."
Apparently, that didn't just apply to Gunn, but to Angel as well. Wesley followed him to his room. "I'm not sure what's going to happen now."
Wesley shrugged, hands in his pockets. He was still transparent, but when lightning illuminated the room, Angel noticed that he was slightly more opaque than he'd been earlier. "You're changing."
"I am?"
"You haven't noticed?"
Wesley looked down at himself. "Huh, no, I hadn't." The sound of thunder just outside the window almost drowned him out. "What do you think it means?"
"You're the research expert," Angel replied, tugging off his shoes, and laying down on his bed. "I have no clue."
"Perhaps I should--" Wesley turned to the closed door and sighed. "Perhaps research isn't such a brilliant idea."
"Not when you can't turn a handle, no." Angel found himself smiling. "We'll get to that tomorrow."
Wesley smiled back and sat on the edge of the bed. Angel didn't feel a thing. "If I'm still here then."
"You will." Angel was sure of it. Wesley wasn't fading, he was getting clearer. That had to mean something. Arms crossed behind his head, Angel looked at him and remembered the day before, the unspoken words, their eyes meeting. "I never told you--"
"You don't have to," Wesley interrupted. He looked distracted, his hands held out before him, a puzzled look in his eyes. "I can still feel the power of the spell in my veins."
"Weird, since you don't actually have any," Angel remarked, standing up again. He wavered for a second, then rubbed his neck. He'd have to eat again soon; the fight had taken more out of him than he'd thought. "Veins, that is."
Wesley snickered, but didn't look up. "What if it's the magic that's making me change?"
"Like, tapping into your magical powers keep you from fading away?"
"Something like that."
Angel was closer, almost close enough to touch--if there had been anything to touch. He reached out anyway. Wesley looked up then, and nodded. Silently, he closed his eyes, pursed his lips. Angel watched the colour returning to Wesley's cheeks and, looking down, to his hand.
Wesley gasped, "Dear God."
Angel grabbed Wesley's hand and held on. "Are you still a ghost if you're corporeal?" he asked, barely noticing how cold Wesley's hands were. He couldn't help with that, but he wished he could.
"I have no idea," Wesley replied, out of breath. "I suppose so."
Waiting for a few seconds, Angel then shook his head. "Heart's not beating."
"Ghost it is; or at the very least, undead."
"We'll have to change our name to Undead Investigation, now." Angel's try at humour didn't raise more than a smile from Wesley. "Gunn, Illyria, Spike, you, me; how the hell did this happen?" he asked in a whisper.
"We knew the odds, Angel. We went into this headfirst, knowing what could, and would most certainly, happen. I suppose we're more than a little lucky that we've kept our heads on our shoulders." Then, probably thinking of Illyria, as Angel was, he added, "For the most part, at least."
Without thinking, Angel drew Wesley into his arms, never letting go of his hand. When Wesley sighed and relaxed against his shoulder, he asked, "Tired?"
"I'm not sure."
"Can ghosts sleep?"
"You ask me as if I was an expert. I have no clue."
"Maybe we should find out." Angel steered Wesley towards the bed, and climbed in behind him, tucking himself around Wesley's back and pulling the covers over them. He didn't care that he was still wearing his clothes. "Wake me up when the world doesn't end."
"That isn't quite what you want to say now, because it means I'd have to wake you up as soon as you fall asleep, and well, it wouldn't be very conductive to getting some rest."
Angel chuckled, pressing his lips to Wesley's neck. "Whatever. Good night."
"Good night, Angel."
* * *
Request:
Vampire character you want: Angel
Male character (ONE) you want paired with the vampire: Wesley
Up to three things you want in your fic: Undead Wesley (canon or otherwise), magic of some kind, thunderstorm
Up to two things you don't want: mpreg, daddy kink
Preferred maximum rating: Any
Author: soft_princess
Website: Fly With Me
Date: March 8, 2009
Word count: 1,450
Fandom: BtVS/AtS
Pairing: Angel/Wesley
Rating: FRC
Disclaimer: Joss owns, I don't.
Spoilers/setting: Post-NFA; no comics spoilers.
Summary: "We'll have to change our name to Undead Investigation, now." Angel's try at humour didn't raise more than a smile from Wesley.
Note: Written for bruttimabuoni in the Vampires round @ maleslashminis. Request found after the fic.
Thanks to mireille719 for the readthrough.
* * *
Angel hadn't seen any of his crew in over three hours now. He'd told them to meet at the Hyperion if they could, but he was the only one who made it. So far.
They chose to fight, he reminded himself. Maybe it was his fault that the city was in ruins--if he hadn't precipitated the apocalypse, there might not have been this much damage--but his friends, his crew, they chose to fight; he hadn't forced them.
It didn't help him feel any less guilty.
He was reaching into the fridge, sparing a thought to whatever deity was listening, when he heard someone behind him. Angel didn't jump. He picked up his cup of blood from the top shelf, drank a long swallow, and waited. He couldn't tell who was there, couldn't hear a heartbeat, but he knew he wasn't alone.
"Angel," someone said quietly.
"You're supposed to be dead." Angel finished his cup, put it down calmly on the counter, and gripped the edge on shaking hands. "Illyria said she'd seen you die."
"I am. She did."
Angel slowly turned around and leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He could see through Wesley. Through him. Angel sighed and nodded. "Got something you have to do?"
In his experience with ghosts, they were always there because they'd left something undone, something important. Angel couldn't think what it would be with Wesley.
"I don't know," Wesley admitted. He looked like he was standing on the floor, not floating or flying or whatever ghosts did. "I haven't gotten a speech or anything. I just... I woke up and my body was... well, you can imagine."
Angel nodded again and reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. "No one made it."
"Gunn's turned," Wesley told him, his tone turning almost cold. "You'll have to do something about it."
"What can I do? And how do you know?" It wasn't like ghosts were all knowing. Were they?
"I just know," Wesley said with a shake of his head. "Illyria'll be back. She's taking care of a few stragglers. Spike's feeding."
Angel didn't ask on what or how Spike was feeding; he didn't need to know. He walked out of the kitchen into the lobby and sat down on a bench with a thump. Screwing up was a talent of his; getting his friends killed as well. He'd have to hunt down Gunn tonight. Tomorrow. Angel needed some rest, and to add to the atmosphere of gloom spreading over the city, the sky had broken into a thunderstorm. He'd get nothing done tonight.
Wesley broke the silence. "You need to sleep." When Angel raised his eyes, Wesley looked concerned. "The world isn't going to end tonight. It's not going to end at all. You did what you set out to do, Angel."
"No, I didn't," Angel argued. "There's been too much death."
"That's how it works. You can't avert the apocalypse without paying a price. I have no regrets."
"Gunn might."
"Do you still have the orb of Thessula we kept in the safe?"
"Huh." Angel got to his feet, quickly, and almost ran into the office. He'd forgotten about that. After the last time they'd played with Angel's soul--with disastrous consequences--Wesley had suggested they keep one, just to be safe. It should still be in place.
Ghosts could, apparently, still use their magical powers. It took less time than Angel remembered from having it done to him more than once. He couldn't see Gunn, but he could empathize with the pain he knew accompanied the spell. When Wesley was done, Angel put away everything. He sat down again, head in his hands, and they waited. An hour later, Charles Gunn was stumbling into the lobby, dirty and dazed, and wet from the rain.
"What the fuck did you do?" he muttered, his eyes on Wesley, unwavering.
"What I had to," Wesley murmured. "Get some sleep, we'll discuss what happens next in the morning."
Apparently, that didn't just apply to Gunn, but to Angel as well. Wesley followed him to his room. "I'm not sure what's going to happen now."
Wesley shrugged, hands in his pockets. He was still transparent, but when lightning illuminated the room, Angel noticed that he was slightly more opaque than he'd been earlier. "You're changing."
"I am?"
"You haven't noticed?"
Wesley looked down at himself. "Huh, no, I hadn't." The sound of thunder just outside the window almost drowned him out. "What do you think it means?"
"You're the research expert," Angel replied, tugging off his shoes, and laying down on his bed. "I have no clue."
"Perhaps I should--" Wesley turned to the closed door and sighed. "Perhaps research isn't such a brilliant idea."
"Not when you can't turn a handle, no." Angel found himself smiling. "We'll get to that tomorrow."
Wesley smiled back and sat on the edge of the bed. Angel didn't feel a thing. "If I'm still here then."
"You will." Angel was sure of it. Wesley wasn't fading, he was getting clearer. That had to mean something. Arms crossed behind his head, Angel looked at him and remembered the day before, the unspoken words, their eyes meeting. "I never told you--"
"You don't have to," Wesley interrupted. He looked distracted, his hands held out before him, a puzzled look in his eyes. "I can still feel the power of the spell in my veins."
"Weird, since you don't actually have any," Angel remarked, standing up again. He wavered for a second, then rubbed his neck. He'd have to eat again soon; the fight had taken more out of him than he'd thought. "Veins, that is."
Wesley snickered, but didn't look up. "What if it's the magic that's making me change?"
"Like, tapping into your magical powers keep you from fading away?"
"Something like that."
Angel was closer, almost close enough to touch--if there had been anything to touch. He reached out anyway. Wesley looked up then, and nodded. Silently, he closed his eyes, pursed his lips. Angel watched the colour returning to Wesley's cheeks and, looking down, to his hand.
Wesley gasped, "Dear God."
Angel grabbed Wesley's hand and held on. "Are you still a ghost if you're corporeal?" he asked, barely noticing how cold Wesley's hands were. He couldn't help with that, but he wished he could.
"I have no idea," Wesley replied, out of breath. "I suppose so."
Waiting for a few seconds, Angel then shook his head. "Heart's not beating."
"Ghost it is; or at the very least, undead."
"We'll have to change our name to Undead Investigation, now." Angel's try at humour didn't raise more than a smile from Wesley. "Gunn, Illyria, Spike, you, me; how the hell did this happen?" he asked in a whisper.
"We knew the odds, Angel. We went into this headfirst, knowing what could, and would most certainly, happen. I suppose we're more than a little lucky that we've kept our heads on our shoulders." Then, probably thinking of Illyria, as Angel was, he added, "For the most part, at least."
Without thinking, Angel drew Wesley into his arms, never letting go of his hand. When Wesley sighed and relaxed against his shoulder, he asked, "Tired?"
"I'm not sure."
"Can ghosts sleep?"
"You ask me as if I was an expert. I have no clue."
"Maybe we should find out." Angel steered Wesley towards the bed, and climbed in behind him, tucking himself around Wesley's back and pulling the covers over them. He didn't care that he was still wearing his clothes. "Wake me up when the world doesn't end."
"That isn't quite what you want to say now, because it means I'd have to wake you up as soon as you fall asleep, and well, it wouldn't be very conductive to getting some rest."
Angel chuckled, pressing his lips to Wesley's neck. "Whatever. Good night."
"Good night, Angel."
* * *
Request:
Vampire character you want: Angel
Male character (ONE) you want paired with the vampire: Wesley
Up to three things you want in your fic: Undead Wesley (canon or otherwise), magic of some kind, thunderstorm
Up to two things you don't want: mpreg, daddy kink
Preferred maximum rating: Any