RATING: PG
SPOILERS: After NFA, Angel Season 5, if the rumor for Season 6 had happened, that everything reversed itself.
SUMMARY:In the new reality, Fred accompanies Angel to parties and events and they grow closer.
CONTENT:not much
DISCLAIMER:I don't own Angel, Buffy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series; they're owned by Joss Whedon and Fox or whomever. No copyright infringement intended so please don't sue.
A/N: Written tardily for the Angel ficathon for goddess_loki who wanted Angel and Fred, dancing scene, a dramatic scene, Lorne and Spike making an appearance, no slash, no NC17. Sorry it's late!.
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When everything reverted to its prior state, only he remembered. Doomed, as always, to be the only one to know the truth, he often found himself confused. There were too many realities, too many futures, too many pasts all tangling together in his head.
For a while he retreated to his penthouse and brooded while the world went on, sometimes following familiar paths, sometimes wildly diverging.
Spike came back through the amulet, but not due to Lindsey's interference. Lindsey had yet to make an appearance, but Angel had no doubt he was lurking somewhere. Lilah was their liaison to the Senior Partners, not Eve. Cordelia remained in her coma. Lorne still gave up his sleep and had pounded on party guests. Harmony was still his annoying secretary. Nina was still a werewolf.
But with Lilah around, Wesley never turned to Fred. Connor was still missing from their memories, but there were other reasons for the darkness in Wesley that drew him to the former lawyer, and Fred remained only a dream for him.
Fred remained Fred, though. The sarcophagus never made it out of Customs--he saw to that, and Gunn gave up his enhanced knowledge of the law and became again what he was meant to be-- a helper of the helpless.
So, there was no Illyria, although sometimes when he looked at Fred he could see her on the fringes, all blue and gold and glowing with power.
The thought of Fred's fragile form being torn asunder and remade by a god brought him out of the penthouse and his inner darkness. Keeping her whole gave him the determination to face each day and muddle through the confusion, trying to do what was right with the foreknowledge he possessed.
But, it was so hard.
And, so, more and more he found himself turning to her.
*****
"I'm not good at these things," Angel protested feebly.
Fred simply smiled and straightened his silk bowtie. "You don't need to be good at them. You're eccentric. Weirdness is expected."
"I didn't say I was weird." He glanced down at the bowtie and twitched it again. "Why is it a flapper theme again?"
Shrugging and sending bugle beads shivering along her slinky fire engine red Callas Sisters original from 1926, Fred replied, "I guess modern themes are passe. Come on, it'll be fun. We'll drink fake bootleg gin and do the Charleston."
If Angel could have blushed, he would have. Instead, he shuffled his feet and looked around the room. "Um...I...um."
"Angel?"
"I can't dance," he muttered.
"We danced at the reception for the Australian consulate just last week."
"That was slow dancing. All I have do is hold on and shuffle my feet. This is...Fred, I spent most of the 1920s in a drunken haze in various gutters."
Fred pressed her hand to her lips to prevent the instinctive chuckle, then reached for the phone, dialing an extension. "Well, it's fashionable to be late so we have a few minutes to spare."
A few minutes later, Lorne stepped off the elevator followed by Spike.
"Someone need dance lessons? Music, maestro." Lorne plunked down the portable stereo and hit a button. Jazz spilled from the speakers.
"Why are you here, Spike?" Angel snarled.
Spike grinned and popped the top off a beer. "I'm in hopes of seeing you fall over your two left feet."
"Spike, be nice," hissed Fred.
"Physically impossible where the git is concerned, luv."
Angel snarled again and Spike just grinned in response and chugged his beer.
"Is the sniping over with? Can we dance now?" Lorne clapped his hands and started to do a step ball change." Now, watch Angelcakes. One, two, three, one, two, three, spin."
The rather panicked stare from his boss made him sigh and he repeated the steps at a slower pace. "Fred, come here and show him how easy it is."
"Maybe we don't have to dance. Maybe we could just sit and drink. Drinking's good." The note of hysteria in Angel's voice made Spike grin wildly.
"Come on, a ponce like you, this should come naturally."
"Let's see you do it," the older vampire challenged the younger.
"No problem. Dru and I spent the '20s in New York, Harlem to be more precise. My girl was more into the blues, but we could Charleston with the best of them." As he spoke, he set aside his beer and shrugged out of his duster, then took Fred's hands and began to twirl her around the room to the music. "Lookin' good there, luv. All glowy and sparkly."
"It's the dress." She blushed, following his lead in the dance steps popular eighty years before.
Lorne moved over to Angel and leaned back against the wall. "See how easy it is? Spike's pretty light on his feet."
"Light in the head."
"He's right about how good Freddles looks tonight. You going to get lucky, big guy?"
Angel stared at the demon in disbelief. "We're just friends."
"Uh huh." Lorne nodded in Fred's direction when he saw her glance wistfully at Angel. "Looks to me like she'd rather be dancing with you."
"Well, anyone in their right mind would rather be with me over Spike."
Lorne snickered. "Go on, cut in."
His feet moving of their own volition, Angel crossed the room to the dancing couple and glowered at Spike.
"Prepare to get your toes stepped on," he laughed, releasing Fred's hand.
"Vampires are very graceful." She took Angel's hand, her long fingers entwining with his strong, blunt ones.
"If graceful means stomping across the world creating massive amounts of mayhem, then you're right, luv." Spike retreated to Lorne's side as the demon switched the cd to a slightly slower song.
"Follow Fred's lead, Angel. That's right, one, two, three, one, two, three..."
*****
Several hours later Angel helped a foot-weary Fred into the back of the vintage Rolls Royce and joined her on the butter soft leather seat. She gave him a happy smile and reached down to pluck her shoes off her feet. Spike had been wrong, of course. While not a natural dancer, Angel had the grace to fake it very well, and they'd danced most of the night away, only taking breaks to schmooz clients and sip champagne between sets.
"Aren't you glad you went?"
"I am if you are," he replied seriously. "I know you enjoy these events."
"After five years in a cave, it's about time I partied, don't you think?" She smiled again, her eyes a bit bleary from the champagne, and cuddled against him, slipping her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder. "And I knew you could dance if you tried."
"If I didn't know better I'd think you arranged for Spike to be there to goad me."
The snort against his shoulder made him smile and he reached across and stroked a dangling curl from her flushed cheek. "Fred?" When she opened her eyes, he continued, his face serious again. "What's happening here?"
"I don't know," Fred replied softly. "Whatever we want to happen, I think."
"I...I don't know how...You're very special, but..."
"But..." She sighed. "Just friends?"
"If we were just friends, it would be simple." As he felt her warm and soft against him, her perfume and unique scent tantalizing his nostrils, he shoved away memories of the other Fred, of Illyria, of his own loves--Buffy, Cordy, Nina. This was reality now, and she was looking up at him with shining eyes that sent a pang of longing through him.
Dipping his head, Angel kissed her softly.
Moaning softly, Fred broke the kiss and smiled into his turbulent brown eyes. "Not just friends, then."
"More."
"Oh, yes, more," and she kissed him again.
End