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moonlettuceTitle: Moments In Time: Lonely In Your Nightmare
Episode: Untouched
Author: Claire
He can hear the voices in the other room. Angel, soft and soothing, and Bethany, agitated.
"You don't even know what I'm going through! I shouldn't even be here!" The accusation is hurled at Angel and Wesley can almost see the vampire trying to decide what to say, trying to work out which words will calm the rising distress in the young woman.
But Wesley knows, can see himself in Bethany. Can see himself in every word, in every action of the young woman Cordelia's vision sent them to help. And before he can think about what he's doing, he's on his feet and walking towards them, down the steps.
"I agree." His words startle Bethany and she spins to face him, but he doesn't waiver, can't waiver. The words spill out of his mouth. "It's clear this girl doesn't want our help. I don't think we should be wasting our time with her."
It's clear to Wesley that they *can't* help Bethany; that, at this point, only Bethany can help Bethany. And if he can see it then why can't Angel? Although, he guesses Angel is more used to seeing this situation from the other side. He knows about Angelus's relationship with Spike, about how he treated the other vampire. Wants to laugh suddenly at the knowledge that Spike would have more empathy and understanding for this young woman than Angel ever could.
"Wesley."
He can hear the warning in Angel's tone, but he ignores it. Because it's not Bethany he's talking about anymore. And the words keep coming. "I'm sorry, but there are people out there who need us. People with much more serious problems than impulse-control issues." Because if he can deal with it then why can't she? Because he's had enough of the little girl lost victim air that Bethany portrays.
"Look, that's enough." But Angel's wrong. It's not enough, it'll never be enough.
"Why doesn't she go back to her friend's, toss the furniture about?" Wesley takes another step, almost faltering. Because, suddenly, the person looking back at him isn't the red-head, it's the young boy with the wide grey-blue eyes; the small child who used to hide under the bed when he heard his father coming along the landing. The child who used to pray every night to every deity he'd ever read about, promising eternal worship if they would only take him away from this life. The boy who would cry silently when he felt the rough hands on him.
The weakness makes Wesley angry. He can feel the tears, hot and scalding as they run down the boy's cheeks, feels them so clearly he almost lifts a hand to check his face. But instead, he keeps walking, one foot in front of the other, determined to face the child before him. The child he's been running from for years. The child whose fears and crying haunts him every night. And when the final words fall from his tongue, he's not speaking to Bethany, or the child in front of him, he's speaking to himself. Speaking to the man that, even after all this time, can't stand up to the one fear he still holds. He's faced down vampires and demons and survived it all, so why does the thought of an aging old Watcher instil terror in him.
And nestled among the fear is the same ember of anger. Anger at himself for not being as over this as he likes to think he is. Anger at letting the fear get the better of him. Anger for not stopping what happened. Anger at his own weakness. And he can hear the venom drip from him as he says the words that are more for himself than for the girl Angel wants so desperately to help. "Or maybe we should send you home to your father."
The gasp that follows jolts him out of whatever dream he's in, and the young boy changes back into the red-headed visage of Bethany before Wesley feels himself swept off his feet and flying backwards. He hears the sharp crack as his head impacts against the wall, vision blurring at the edges as he tries to focus, before finally giving in and letting the darkness take him.
*
"Are you sure nothing's broken?"
The ice Cordelia is holding against the back of his head helps with the pain somewhat, although his vision is still a little blurry. Cordelia looks like she's in soft focus, and he's about to comment on how good it looks on her when he realises that it's probably not the best thing to say unless he fancies being dragged to the hospital and tested for concussion. "I'm sure."
"Nothing at all?" Cordy persists. "Say, your brain?" The sigh that emanates from her makes Wesley's head throb. "What happened to approach her with caution?"
He's not sure how to answer the question, he certainly can't tell her the truth. That he *wanted* to approach her with caution, but something snapped. That all he wants to really do to Bethany is shake her out of this self-involved breakdown, because why should she be allowed the luxury of falling apart when he never was? Why should she have the angels sweep in to save her when all he ever got was the demons in the darkness? He looks over at Cordelia, knowing she's waiting for him to answer. What can he say? In the end all he does is shrug. "If I'd given her time to get her defences up..."
But Cordelia cuts him off, cuts off the perfectly good explanation that had just sprung into his mind. "She wouldn't be crying, you wouldn't be bruised and Angel wouldn't have had a near Melba-toast experience!"
Closing his eyes, Wesley tries to control his breathing. It wasn't as if he wanted Bethany to hurtle Angel out into the courtyard. Wasn't as if his actions had the sole intent of getting Angel thrown into the sun. His head is throbbing worse now, and all he wants to do is curl up in a ball and make the world go away.
"What did you say to her?" But the world won't go away, and neither will Cordelia, not until she's had her answers.
Opening his eyes again, he fixes Cordelia with his gaze. "I mentioned her father." He can see from the look in her eyes that Cordelia still doesn't understand, and sure enough the question comes.
"Well, who's her father?"
And in that moment he wants to hug Cordelia, hug her for the fact that her mind doesn't even let her think of the truth. Hug her because, and Wesley hopes to all the gods there are that it'll stay the same, Cordelia's life is such that the she doesn't even realise that the worst nightmares can come from the woman who passes you in the street, the man who serves you in the store, your best friend, your own father. Hug her because Cordelia still thinks that the demons are the ones with the horns and fangs. Hug her because he hopes it'll never change.
"No, it's..." And his words trail off as he falls back into lecture mode. If he keeps it simple then maybe the ghosts will stay away, even though he knows he's hoping in vain. They never stay away, it's why he doesn't think about what happened. Buries it in a corner darker than the closet in the dead of night. Concentrates on saying the words, saying the words and ignoring the voice running through his head.
"The sort of trauma that can produce this level of psychic power usually involves abuse of some kind, very early on."
You make me do this, Wesley.
"You'd mentioned a sexual vibe, she made that crack about family business."
Such a pretty mouth, Wesley.
"Statistically speaking, the father was the best guess."
You know how to make your father happy, Wesley.
"There's not enough yuck in the world." For once, Wesley is in total agreement. He feels like he should meet Cordelia's eyes, to smile and nod reassuringly, but it's the last thing he wants to do. And then he's saved from doing anything by Angel walking in.
"How is she?"
And Wesley bites his tongue to stop from answering Cordy's question, to stop the bitter retort from spilling out. From commenting that Bethany will be fine, after all, she has an angel looking out for her, more than he'll ever have.
Looking at the vampire, he wants to scream, shout, cry. Wants to do throw whatever he can reach and destroy everything in sight; anything to show them that there's emotions under the shell. Clenching his fists, he feels the crescents of his nails dig into his palms and he welcomes the pain, focuses on it, feels the numbness that follows spread through him. Be a good boy, Wesley. Don't cry, Wesley. Don't do a fucking thing to show them that you're human, Wesley.
"Settling." Angel barely looks at Cordelia as he answers her question, his attention focusing on Wesley. "You're gone."
A flash of panic runs through Wesley. Never mind that he doesn't want to be here. Never mind, that he can feel it under his skin, itching to get out, to get away, to run as far from Angel as he can. Angel can't mean to leave him alone...
"You can't fire Wesley. I'll quit, too!" And he's absurdly grateful for Cordelia's stance. Throws her a thankful look, which she ignores as she continues talking. "Unless you're firm!"
Angel looks at her, confusion written on his face. "I'm not firing anyone."
No, not firing, then, just sending away. Send away Wesley so he can go and comfort Bethany, so he can coax Bethany to come back to the real world. Throw Wesley to the darkness so he can wrap Bethany up and protect her. Sacrifice a... a friend to save a stranger. Is that the way it works now, Angel, is it?
And then the anger that has so suddenly risen in him drains away. He knows he's not being fair, not to Bethany and definitely not to Angel.
"I understand. My being here wouldn't exactly help her to feel trusting."
Never mind that he's probably the only one there that she *can* trust. Cordelia can be sympathetic, but back in Sunnydale abuse to her was Daddy withholding her credit cards. And Angel? Well, Wesley read all about Angelus's turning of Spike, but knows there is far more to the story than the Watchers will ever have in their chronicles. And suddenly, Wesley has the overwhelming urge to ring Spike and commiserate with him over having bastards for parents.
"I'll be at my flat. Call me if..." The sentence trails off as he realises he doesn't want Angel to call him. He just wants to go home and crawl into a bottle and not come out until all of this is over and Bethany is nothing but a distant memory. Bethany, with her pain filled eyes and the way she flinches whenever anyone touches her. Bethany, who reminds him too much of himself, and that's something he's not quite ready to examine yet. Standing up, he walks passed Angel, stopping as a hand comes out to rest on his arm. He looks down at the fingers, feels the coolness seeping through his shirt.
"It helps that we know."
Do you know, Angel? Do you even have a clue? "I hope so."
End MIT: Lonely in Your Nightmare
Other Moments In Time can be found here.
Episode: Untouched
Author: Claire
He can hear the voices in the other room. Angel, soft and soothing, and Bethany, agitated.
"You don't even know what I'm going through! I shouldn't even be here!" The accusation is hurled at Angel and Wesley can almost see the vampire trying to decide what to say, trying to work out which words will calm the rising distress in the young woman.
But Wesley knows, can see himself in Bethany. Can see himself in every word, in every action of the young woman Cordelia's vision sent them to help. And before he can think about what he's doing, he's on his feet and walking towards them, down the steps.
"I agree." His words startle Bethany and she spins to face him, but he doesn't waiver, can't waiver. The words spill out of his mouth. "It's clear this girl doesn't want our help. I don't think we should be wasting our time with her."
It's clear to Wesley that they *can't* help Bethany; that, at this point, only Bethany can help Bethany. And if he can see it then why can't Angel? Although, he guesses Angel is more used to seeing this situation from the other side. He knows about Angelus's relationship with Spike, about how he treated the other vampire. Wants to laugh suddenly at the knowledge that Spike would have more empathy and understanding for this young woman than Angel ever could.
"Wesley."
He can hear the warning in Angel's tone, but he ignores it. Because it's not Bethany he's talking about anymore. And the words keep coming. "I'm sorry, but there are people out there who need us. People with much more serious problems than impulse-control issues." Because if he can deal with it then why can't she? Because he's had enough of the little girl lost victim air that Bethany portrays.
"Look, that's enough." But Angel's wrong. It's not enough, it'll never be enough.
"Why doesn't she go back to her friend's, toss the furniture about?" Wesley takes another step, almost faltering. Because, suddenly, the person looking back at him isn't the red-head, it's the young boy with the wide grey-blue eyes; the small child who used to hide under the bed when he heard his father coming along the landing. The child who used to pray every night to every deity he'd ever read about, promising eternal worship if they would only take him away from this life. The boy who would cry silently when he felt the rough hands on him.
The weakness makes Wesley angry. He can feel the tears, hot and scalding as they run down the boy's cheeks, feels them so clearly he almost lifts a hand to check his face. But instead, he keeps walking, one foot in front of the other, determined to face the child before him. The child he's been running from for years. The child whose fears and crying haunts him every night. And when the final words fall from his tongue, he's not speaking to Bethany, or the child in front of him, he's speaking to himself. Speaking to the man that, even after all this time, can't stand up to the one fear he still holds. He's faced down vampires and demons and survived it all, so why does the thought of an aging old Watcher instil terror in him.
And nestled among the fear is the same ember of anger. Anger at himself for not being as over this as he likes to think he is. Anger at letting the fear get the better of him. Anger for not stopping what happened. Anger at his own weakness. And he can hear the venom drip from him as he says the words that are more for himself than for the girl Angel wants so desperately to help. "Or maybe we should send you home to your father."
The gasp that follows jolts him out of whatever dream he's in, and the young boy changes back into the red-headed visage of Bethany before Wesley feels himself swept off his feet and flying backwards. He hears the sharp crack as his head impacts against the wall, vision blurring at the edges as he tries to focus, before finally giving in and letting the darkness take him.
*
"Are you sure nothing's broken?"
The ice Cordelia is holding against the back of his head helps with the pain somewhat, although his vision is still a little blurry. Cordelia looks like she's in soft focus, and he's about to comment on how good it looks on her when he realises that it's probably not the best thing to say unless he fancies being dragged to the hospital and tested for concussion. "I'm sure."
"Nothing at all?" Cordy persists. "Say, your brain?" The sigh that emanates from her makes Wesley's head throb. "What happened to approach her with caution?"
He's not sure how to answer the question, he certainly can't tell her the truth. That he *wanted* to approach her with caution, but something snapped. That all he wants to really do to Bethany is shake her out of this self-involved breakdown, because why should she be allowed the luxury of falling apart when he never was? Why should she have the angels sweep in to save her when all he ever got was the demons in the darkness? He looks over at Cordelia, knowing she's waiting for him to answer. What can he say? In the end all he does is shrug. "If I'd given her time to get her defences up..."
But Cordelia cuts him off, cuts off the perfectly good explanation that had just sprung into his mind. "She wouldn't be crying, you wouldn't be bruised and Angel wouldn't have had a near Melba-toast experience!"
Closing his eyes, Wesley tries to control his breathing. It wasn't as if he wanted Bethany to hurtle Angel out into the courtyard. Wasn't as if his actions had the sole intent of getting Angel thrown into the sun. His head is throbbing worse now, and all he wants to do is curl up in a ball and make the world go away.
"What did you say to her?" But the world won't go away, and neither will Cordelia, not until she's had her answers.
Opening his eyes again, he fixes Cordelia with his gaze. "I mentioned her father." He can see from the look in her eyes that Cordelia still doesn't understand, and sure enough the question comes.
"Well, who's her father?"
And in that moment he wants to hug Cordelia, hug her for the fact that her mind doesn't even let her think of the truth. Hug her because, and Wesley hopes to all the gods there are that it'll stay the same, Cordelia's life is such that the she doesn't even realise that the worst nightmares can come from the woman who passes you in the street, the man who serves you in the store, your best friend, your own father. Hug her because Cordelia still thinks that the demons are the ones with the horns and fangs. Hug her because he hopes it'll never change.
"No, it's..." And his words trail off as he falls back into lecture mode. If he keeps it simple then maybe the ghosts will stay away, even though he knows he's hoping in vain. They never stay away, it's why he doesn't think about what happened. Buries it in a corner darker than the closet in the dead of night. Concentrates on saying the words, saying the words and ignoring the voice running through his head.
"The sort of trauma that can produce this level of psychic power usually involves abuse of some kind, very early on."
You make me do this, Wesley.
"You'd mentioned a sexual vibe, she made that crack about family business."
Such a pretty mouth, Wesley.
"Statistically speaking, the father was the best guess."
You know how to make your father happy, Wesley.
"There's not enough yuck in the world." For once, Wesley is in total agreement. He feels like he should meet Cordelia's eyes, to smile and nod reassuringly, but it's the last thing he wants to do. And then he's saved from doing anything by Angel walking in.
"How is she?"
And Wesley bites his tongue to stop from answering Cordy's question, to stop the bitter retort from spilling out. From commenting that Bethany will be fine, after all, she has an angel looking out for her, more than he'll ever have.
Looking at the vampire, he wants to scream, shout, cry. Wants to do throw whatever he can reach and destroy everything in sight; anything to show them that there's emotions under the shell. Clenching his fists, he feels the crescents of his nails dig into his palms and he welcomes the pain, focuses on it, feels the numbness that follows spread through him. Be a good boy, Wesley. Don't cry, Wesley. Don't do a fucking thing to show them that you're human, Wesley.
"Settling." Angel barely looks at Cordelia as he answers her question, his attention focusing on Wesley. "You're gone."
A flash of panic runs through Wesley. Never mind that he doesn't want to be here. Never mind, that he can feel it under his skin, itching to get out, to get away, to run as far from Angel as he can. Angel can't mean to leave him alone...
"You can't fire Wesley. I'll quit, too!" And he's absurdly grateful for Cordelia's stance. Throws her a thankful look, which she ignores as she continues talking. "Unless you're firm!"
Angel looks at her, confusion written on his face. "I'm not firing anyone."
No, not firing, then, just sending away. Send away Wesley so he can go and comfort Bethany, so he can coax Bethany to come back to the real world. Throw Wesley to the darkness so he can wrap Bethany up and protect her. Sacrifice a... a friend to save a stranger. Is that the way it works now, Angel, is it?
And then the anger that has so suddenly risen in him drains away. He knows he's not being fair, not to Bethany and definitely not to Angel.
"I understand. My being here wouldn't exactly help her to feel trusting."
Never mind that he's probably the only one there that she *can* trust. Cordelia can be sympathetic, but back in Sunnydale abuse to her was Daddy withholding her credit cards. And Angel? Well, Wesley read all about Angelus's turning of Spike, but knows there is far more to the story than the Watchers will ever have in their chronicles. And suddenly, Wesley has the overwhelming urge to ring Spike and commiserate with him over having bastards for parents.
"I'll be at my flat. Call me if..." The sentence trails off as he realises he doesn't want Angel to call him. He just wants to go home and crawl into a bottle and not come out until all of this is over and Bethany is nothing but a distant memory. Bethany, with her pain filled eyes and the way she flinches whenever anyone touches her. Bethany, who reminds him too much of himself, and that's something he's not quite ready to examine yet. Standing up, he walks passed Angel, stopping as a hand comes out to rest on his arm. He looks down at the fingers, feels the coolness seeping through his shirt.
"It helps that we know."
Do you know, Angel? Do you even have a clue? "I hope so."
End MIT: Lonely in Your Nightmare
Other Moments In Time can be found here.
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no subject
Date: 2004-08-06 06:46 pm (UTC)Poor Wesley he always gets thrown over for someone else: Bethany, Faith.
It's a pity they didn't use this ep to explore Wes' childhood as it would have been the perfect vehicle to do so. So I love that you have :)
That all he wants to really do to Bethany is shake her out of this self-involved breakdown, because why should she be allowed the luxury of falling apart when he never was? Why should she have the angels sweep in to save her when all he ever got was the demons in the darkness?
*Sniff*
*Smooches Claire and cuddles Wesley (and gives him a teddy bear - poor baby obviously needs something to hug!)*
no subject
Date: 2004-08-07 04:50 pm (UTC)pin him to the bed and shag him thoroughlyhug him *grin**smooches you back*