Forfeit

By Merzibelle

A local Anglican church was handling the small, private service. Wes' friends had been surprised to find the letter detailing the arrangements he had made long ago among his papers, a simple charm tucked within to allow Angel to partake fully in the service. It was his final gift to Angel, that and forgiving him for the pains and sorrows Wes had held onto during their long friendship. All the slights, the wounds that had run so deep. All was forgiven. There was total peace between them for the first time ever. . . only it came at the expense of Wes' life.

It was a solemn and somber group that entered the church as the sun began to set in the west, glowing golden and warm over the sea. Fred, who cradled Connor in her arms, trailed Angel and Cordelia. The brunette was obviously struggling with her tears as Angel guided her to the front of the church. Fred nuzzled the baby, hiding her own tears against the soft blanket enfolding him; it smelled of powder and clean baby. She could feel the warmth of Charles' hand against the small of her back as he hovered near her. They were the first to arrive, their footfalls echoing sadly in the empty church. Custom guided them, making them take their places in the first pew, for they were all the family Wesley had by his own decree.

Fred knelt, her hair falling to veil her face, Connor cradled against her breast. The soft organ music drifting gently on the cooling evening air sought to ease her grieving soul. Kneeling there, trying desperately to recall any of the prayers she'd learned as a child, her mind drifted to the events that had led them here…

…"Charles!" she screamed as Gunn slipped on the rain-soaked pavement. Wes whirled away from the vampire that he'd just staked, as her desperate voice pierced the sounds of fighting. As she struggled to cross the wet asphalt to defend Charles, Fred watched Wes snatch his abandoned sword from the damp ground. A bright flash of silver cut across her vision as he managed to block the demon's blade, which trembled against his mere inches from Charles' prone form.

She stared, her body trembling, unable to move closer to the fray, while Gunn tried to crawl out of the Englishman's way while not distracting him from the monster he fought. Wes was skilled with a sword and kept the fencing demon occupied. It was in that moment, as a demon began to cackle in glee behind her, that she realized that they had all forgotten about the other demon. She felt a rough, scaled hand brush against her skin briefly as it ensnared a handful of her hair. Her head was yanked back, and she heard herself screaming again.

The glint of the blade, barely seen as its edge settled against her skin, blinded her briefly. But not soon enough for her to miss what actions came of her panicked scream. She had distracted Wes, leaving him vulnerable at a critical moment, just long enough for the demon to scratch him, his blood steaming in the cold, early morning air. Wes whirled away, using his momentum to bring the heavy blade around to behead the cackling demon. The offensive noise stopped, the thing's head tumbling to the ground with a heavy, wet thunk at Wes' feet. Despite the fear of death, she sighed at seeing Wes fence. The man was deadly grace in motion, a lethal ballet.

She whimpered as the blade at her throat pressed harder, drawing a tiny stream of blood that she felt roll down her neck before it trickled across a breast. The creature holding her spat some phrase, something that caused Wes' cheeks to flush. Gunn asked what the creature said as he stood brushing the wet grit from his hands, but Wes ignored him. He instead stalked across the space between him and the demon, the blade held at the ready. Wes snapped something back to the demon; its cackling, gleeful laughter rolled over her, leaving her nauseous in its wake. She was shoved away without warning, stumbling before she fell into Charles' arms.

Gunn held her, cradling her against him in much the same way Wes had that long ago night in Caritas. She squirmed and managed to get turned around enough to see what was happening. She turned just in time to see the demon raise a hand toward them as it started to say something even as it continued its swordplay with Wesley. Whatever the demon was saying clearly upset Wes, for he attacked the demon with greater vigor. Their blades met repeatedly, the sword dance being punctuated by the peal and crash of the blades. She was surprised to catch him stealing a glance at her and smiling almost sadly, before he stepped into the space separating her from the demon.

The beast screamed in anger, whatever spell it was casting ruined by Wes' action. Wesley staggered, stumbling a step before renewing his attack. Wes seemed tired… weaker, but he eventually managed to kill the demon. The demon's final attack before it fell onto the wet pavement managed to slip under Wes' guard. Both of them crumpled to the ground--Wes with a hand pressed to his side, the demon dead before it struck the ground. Charles' scream echoed in the night, bringing Cordy and Angel from their fight at a run…

…Fred was jarred out of her memories by a soft tug; she settled back onto the pew as the minister began the service. He quoted from the scriptures, his voice gentle but firm as he spoke of God's reward to his loyal children. His gestures often drew her attention to the front of the small chapel. There, just beyond the communion rail, lay Wes' coffin. A shield of wrought iron candlesticks protected it from all approach; a British flag rested atop the rich mahogany, the candlelight making it glow softly. Fred half-expected to see his ghost hovering near the coffin, silently accusing her of not giving him a chance.

No such ghost appeared, and she sighed as the service continued. She wished she had known earlier; Wes' final words still echoed in her mind. The memories surfaced again, her guilt rose, and she choked back the urge to throw herself at the coffin, to beg his forgiveness for not seeing… not loving…

…Charles raced across the wet asphalt, beating her by seconds to Wesley's prone form. She dropped to her knees, the pavement leaving burning scratches on her exposed knees. She gingerly lifted Wes' head onto her lap, as Gunn hovered over both of them, holding his axe tightly and watching Angel and Cordelia race to them. She tried to ignore it all, looking into Wes' eyes, seeing something in their depths that scared her. "Wesley?"

"Fred," he whispered, raising a hand toward her. She caught it and pressed her cheek against his palm. Something, known and long unacknowledged, passed between them in that quiet moment. "My precious Winifred, don't cry." She shook her head, uncaring of their audience, of the fact that her fiancé was standing right there beside them. Her hair spilled around her face in wet, dripping coils of tawny silk, clinging to her warm cheeks. His voice was barely audible over the falling rain and heated voices around them. She crouched lower, her curtain of hair shutting out the world. She could hear Charles arguing with Angel about getting Wes help, but she could tell from Wes' eyes that it didn't matter. Wesley was dying.

"I love you, Fred," he murmured as the light that was Wesley, the warmth of his soul, disappeared from his eyes…

…Fred gasped softly, tears spilling over her cheeks as the service continued around her. For the countless time since that night, she wondered what would have happened if she hadn't kissed Charles. Fred had often felt Wes watching her, had seen Lorne quietly speaking to Wes and Wes' disagreement with Lorne's words.

Angel's voice drew her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Angel reading an old poem. Then the vampire bowed his head and offered a silent prayer before raising his eyes. Angel's speech was then followed by one final hymn before the service ended.

The congregation rose to their feet for the blessing before slowly leaving, either singly or in small, hushed groups. Soon the only people remaining in the small chapel were the Angel Investigations team and Lorne, who had appeared from some shadowed corner of the church. As Angel wandered off to take care of a few final details for the graveside service, which only the five of them would attend, Fred wandered to the front of the chapel. She rested a trembling hand on the coffin and stood there, humming through her tears, hoping to keep Connor from putting up a fuss.

"He knew," Lorne said softly as he joined her, holding out his arms. With a soft whimper, Fred rushed to Lorne, allowing him to hold her. "Shh. He knew and wanted you to be happy. Can you be?"

She slowly straightened away from Lorne, returning her attention to the baby in her arms and nodded. "For him... yes." Taking one final glance at the coffin, Fred turned away. She smiled sadly at Charles as he joined her, his voice soft as he asked if she was all right. "I'm fine, Charles. Just saying good-bye." She forced away the memories and the regrets that accompanied them. "Wesley would want us to be happy," she said softly, smiling at Charles and taking his hand in hers.

Lorne watched them walk away, Fred pausing to hand Connor to Angel on their way out. The demon stepped to one side, allowing the coffin to be wheeled out as well. He was soon left alone in the church… or so it would seem. He stood there for a moment before turning his attention to one deeply shadowed corner. "Are you sure you don't want her to know?"

Stepping out of the shadows and into the now-deserted chapel, Wesley shook his head. "No. Let them be happy, Lorne. They don't need to know." Cold, as he so often was now, the Englishman pulled his leather jacket closed and stared at the doors through which his friends had vanished. "I should go. Watch them for me?"

"Always," Lorne answered. "Will you. . . "

"I'll be fine," Wes answered, "just alone. No more than those creatures wanted. I just… I just couldn't handle it if Fred had been the one to suffer this fate." As Lorne watched, Wes vanished into the shadows again, seeming to melt into them, completely disappearing from sight.

"Lorne? You coming?" Angel called from the doorway. "Were you talking to someone?"

"No, crumbcake." Lorne turned away, adding one more secret to the many he now carried. "I'm coming." Crossing the chapel, Lorne joined Angel. They walked outside towards the limousine where the rest of the team waited. Cordy now held Connor, while Gunn comforted a crying Fred. All three turned to look at them as they walked down the steps. Before getting into the limo, Lorne sighed as he looked back at the open doors to the church, once again wishing fate hadn't dealt his friend such a lousy hand.

The rumble of a motorcycle, heading quickly away from the chapel, shattered the quiet evening. Angel caught Lorne's arm, stopping him from ducking into the limo. A million questions were in the vampire's eyes, but the demon shook his head, remaining stubbornly silent.

~Fin~