(no subject)
Where: outside of the hotel where Wesley resides
When: Late afternoon, September 11th
Who: Fred, Wesley, whoever might be nearby
What: Making an attempt at mending old friendships
It was late in the afternoon and Fred was on a sort of a mission. Things weren’t as bad during the day as they were at night. That was to be expected. Even before Willow had taken control of all of Sunnydale that was the way it worked. The nasties were called ‘creatures of the night’ for a reason.
Fred was armed with a stake, but prayed that she wouldn’t have to fight. A frail little thing like her would almost certainly wind up losing a fight even if the opponent was human in species. Still, she liked to think that she was able to handle things on her own. Willow’s reign had changed her, in that way. She didn’t like to be treated with kid gloves anymore.
The landscape seemed post-apocalyptic. There was debris, sometimes bits of it fueling steady flames, scattered around all of Sunnydale. This was the bad part of town. It was sad to see how things had changed so drastically. What was once a quaint little town with a vampire problem had become hell on earth with Willow’s minions wreaking havoc everywhere.
More than the town, though, Fred missed her friends. Angel had changed. He wasn’t the same handsome prince who had rescued her from Pylea. He was distant even for a broody fellow like himself. She had no idea where Gunn was… The only constant was Cordelia, but having her around, as nice as she was, couldn’t make up for the lack of their old ‘gang’.
Then there was Wesley. While all of them had played a part in pushing him away, Fred mostly blamed herself. Now she was going to try and fix things.
After a long walk that had seemed to go on forever, Fred found herself standing before the door of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce’s current residence - some dodgy hotel. She lifted her hand to knock on the door but hesitated, unsure if she really wanted to take a chance and possibly salt old wounds.
She exhaled a deep breath, weighing her options for a few seconds more, then knocking gingerly on the door. There was no going back.
When: Late afternoon, September 11th
Who: Fred, Wesley, whoever might be nearby
What: Making an attempt at mending old friendships
It was late in the afternoon and Fred was on a sort of a mission. Things weren’t as bad during the day as they were at night. That was to be expected. Even before Willow had taken control of all of Sunnydale that was the way it worked. The nasties were called ‘creatures of the night’ for a reason.
Fred was armed with a stake, but prayed that she wouldn’t have to fight. A frail little thing like her would almost certainly wind up losing a fight even if the opponent was human in species. Still, she liked to think that she was able to handle things on her own. Willow’s reign had changed her, in that way. She didn’t like to be treated with kid gloves anymore.
The landscape seemed post-apocalyptic. There was debris, sometimes bits of it fueling steady flames, scattered around all of Sunnydale. This was the bad part of town. It was sad to see how things had changed so drastically. What was once a quaint little town with a vampire problem had become hell on earth with Willow’s minions wreaking havoc everywhere.
More than the town, though, Fred missed her friends. Angel had changed. He wasn’t the same handsome prince who had rescued her from Pylea. He was distant even for a broody fellow like himself. She had no idea where Gunn was… The only constant was Cordelia, but having her around, as nice as she was, couldn’t make up for the lack of their old ‘gang’.
Then there was Wesley. While all of them had played a part in pushing him away, Fred mostly blamed herself. Now she was going to try and fix things.
After a long walk that had seemed to go on forever, Fred found herself standing before the door of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce’s current residence - some dodgy hotel. She lifted her hand to knock on the door but hesitated, unsure if she really wanted to take a chance and possibly salt old wounds.
She exhaled a deep breath, weighing her options for a few seconds more, then knocking gingerly on the door. There was no going back.