Wild Days

Wild Days

Author: Jill

Disclaimer: nope, not owning them, not at all

Pairing: B/A, B/other, A/other, and other pairings

Timeline: post Season 6/Season 3

Dedication: to all the B/A-shippers out there who never lost faith! Thanks for keeping my spirits up through dark times.

Written in various POVs

Note: When I started writing this, Seasons 7/4 hadn’t started yet!

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I don't know what I expected that bright sunny morning, forcing myself to getup from Lilah's bed, and after stumbling into the bathroom, scratching a day's growth of beard off my face. (I really should think about using electric razors).

lt was a morning like others, like all those I had during the last three months. Empty, after a night of mind-numbing sex. I have to give her that at least. The sex is good. Fantastic, even. The problem isn't the sex, or the nights, when I fall into an exhausted sleep, too sleepy to give nightmares any room. It's the mornings that are really hard. When I get up, and have to look at myself in the mirror, when I have to accept what I did. That I am what I am.

How did it happen that I live here? Well, it's a long story actually, or on second thoughts not all that long. I'm here because I had nowhere else to go and obviously Lilah thought having me around all the time wasn't all that bad either. So here I am, wishing I could change what happened these last months, but knowing it isn't possible.

My face is looking at me again right now, and like always during the past three months, a nausea comes over me. My eyes are still the same, the shape of my mouth hasn't changed, and the nose is the one I grew up looking at - in the face of my father.

I sometimes think about him now. I used to think about him, but never kindly. But these days I wonder if his words were true. He said I was a failure, a disappointment to him, that I wasn't what he'd expected his son to be. He beat me, locked me into closets when I did wrong. And I hated him. And loved him at the same time. But I never wanted to believe his words, words that now seem to make sense all of a sudden, words that still sound in my head as if he'd said them yesterday.

Sighing I wipe the remains of shaving foam from my face, shaking my head at my own maudlin thoughts, wishing there was something to cheer me up, something that could bring back the light, not just the sun that seems cold coming through a perfectly cleaned window.

So I walk back into the bedroom and stumbling yet again because I left my shoes right beside the bed last night, and cursing and looking down, when my eyes focus on something beneath my foot, a piece of paper. Concerned I might have ruined it by stepping onto, I pick it up, only to realise I've obviously stumbled over more than just my shoes.

The paper seems old, worn, and I know instantly that I've touched something like that before, because the material isn't just paper, it's more like those rolls they used to have in old Egypt. It is strangely familiar.

I also realise I was never meant to see this. That it must have slipped from Lilah's purse in her hurry to be at Wolfram & Hart in time. She's climbing up the ladder there and having me living with her didn't hurt her career either. I suppose the Powers there still hope I might be of use to them, having been a part of Angel Investigations for so long.

Sometimes at night, when I'm awake, I think of them, try to imagine what they're doing right now. If Angel managed to come to terms with his son, if Cordy is still happy with Groo, if Gunn and Fred are still together. And sometimes I wonder if Fred would have been able to save my soul. Lilah once told me I lost it. And I wish I had. It would be a lot easier that way, but unfortunately it's still there, screaming at me with a vengeance. Lilah seems to think I'm one of them now. Unfortunately I'm not.

Remembering the piece of paper in my hand, I look down, only to realise that my glasses are still missing from my nose and that without them I won't be able to read a thing. So I search for them and as soon as they're in place, I sit down on the edge of the bed and start to read. Or at least I try, but the first word already is a real challenge. That's when I realise it's a language I've never seen before. It's a strange combination of consonants only, and letters that I never knew existed.

Stunned I stare at the paper, trying to remember where I felt that special texture before, but failing. Looking up I am painfully aware that my books are still at the Hyperion, that I never bothered to get them. Besides, half of them are Angel's anyway. He's got an incredible collection. I'm sure Wolfram & Hart has, too, but I also know now that I will never be allowed to see the books there. They would hardly let me roam through their archives. I'm still not trustworthy, and in a way it makes me glad. Hopefully it means I'm not beyond saving.

Again I look at the words on the paper. It's only a little bigger than an envelope, but the writing is small and there is a lot written here.

By afternoon I've come to the decision that I need to know what's on this piece of paper, what the strange words mean. After pacing Lilah's apartment for the better part of the day, I'm now determined to find out, and because I can't break into Wolfram & Hart to get access to the books I need, I decided to go to the Hyperion Hotel, hoping that Angel and the guys will be out working, and that I'll be able to sneak in without any of them noticing. But even if they find me, my chance of surviving will still be better with them than with a firm of evil lawyers.

I quickly suppress a shudder remembering that I'm sleeping with one of them.

It's just sex, I tell myself, nothing else. It doesn't mean anything. Not for her. Not for me. And I almost make myself believe it. Almost. Stuffing the paper into my pocket, I grab my keys and some money and leave the apartment. I never thought I'd miss a chair, but sitting in the old leather thing in the office, I realise I did. Well, maybe not the chair. More what it stands for. I liked being boss of the agency. I liked being in charge. And I liked having friends.

The lamp illuminates the pages of the books in front of me, and after finding what I've been looking for, my dread grows with each passing moment. I'm half-way through the text, which as I discovered, is a demonic language over six thousand years old. It's a prophecy, and although I've learned that they aren't always trustworthy, this one's been extremely accurate so far.

It speaks about a vampire with a soul. Tells about his fate. Speaks about a union with the one who created him. Mentions a child. A boy who will be estranged from his father, but who's going to be a central part in the fate of the earth. The prophecy is so exact, it makes the little hairs in my neck stand up straight, and cold shivers are running over my back. I never read something like this, never saw anything more accurate or scientific, even though it was written so long ago.

Trying to turn my concentration back on the text, I continue translating and suddenly my blood runs cold. Blinking I check a second time, and again the words are there. I swallow, feeling cold and hot at the same time, while realising at the same time that the piece of paper lying in front of me is one of the missing pieces of the scroll of Aberijan. It's the piece Wolfram & Hart kept hidden from us, and now I realise why. Knowing and not knowing the contents can decide the fate of the earth, the fight between good and evil.

I'm startled when I suddenly hear a noise from the doorway, and looking up I find Gunn and Fred standing there, staring at mewith utterly surprised expressions on their faces which turn to anger in Gunn's and towariness in Fred's case in an instant.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The voice of my former friend is a low growl and Gunn's eyes are flashing dangerously.

"You're not welcome here," he hisses.

"I want you to leave this very instant."

Strangely enough, I always hoped my friends would understand why I did what I did, that they'd see I never intended to hurt them, only wanted to save Connor's life.

"Gunn," Fred intervenes softly, her face almost compassionate in the dim light of the office. "Maybe he has a good reason to be here?" She gives me a hopeful glance, and I realise I'm expected to say something now.

"I … I … uh … found this," I take the piece of paper in front of me and show it to them. "It's part of the Aberijan prophecy. Something we didn't know before. I … I need to talk to Angel."

"We do too," Gunn growls. "But unfortunately we don't know where he is."

Stunned, I can only stare at him, "Pardon me?"

"He … is missin'," Fred explains. "We haven't seen him, nor Cordelia for over three months."

The dread I felt while reading the prophecy intensifying, I get up, not caring for Gunn's angry posture, or the daggers his eyes are shooting at me. I'm almost proud of him for being such a good friend to Angel. I would be really proud under different circumstances, but right now it's a little unwelcome because I need their help. And fast.

Turning to Fred, I look her straight in the eye. "Haven't seen, meaning..?"

"Meanin', we don't know where they are. We…," she falters slightly, then pulls herself together. "I'm sure they're fine. We'd know if … somethin' happened to them."

"What about Connor?"

"He's here," Fred tells me.

"Here?" I have to know this for certain, "You mean at the hotel?"

She nods, "Yeah, he's been living with us ever since … well, Holtz left him here. Told him he had to stay with Angel."

Startled by the revelation, wondering if Lilah knew about that, and about Angel and Cordy missing, I run a hand through my hair, feeling unsettled and the slightest hint of panic. "This is not good," I say, starting to pace. "Not good at all."

"Get to the point English," Gunn orders, clearly at the end of his patience.

"Or get lost," he adds, and I wonder why it hurts so much to hear it. Lilah was wrong. I know that for certain now. Without a soul it would never hurt like this. I look at Gunn, remember times when we fought and laughed together and know that it will never be that way. He isn't someone to trust easily. And he doesn't forgive, not what I have done. I was their friend and I betrayed them. It didn't matter that I meant well. It doesn't even matter that he might understand why I did it. I still did it behind their backs and Gunn won't forget. And he will never trust me again. Not the way he has. And it hurts. Even more to know that I'm the only one responsible.

Breathing deeply, I push the pain away, knowing that now isn't the time for self-pity. I slowly turn my head and look into the eyes of a man who once was one of my best friends, ignoring the disgust I see in them. "I came because I found this," I say, indicating the text again, "I wasn't meant to see it, but well, it doesn't really matter-"

"Oh, it does," Gunn interrupts, his gaze turning speculative. "Where did you find it?"

Knowing that there is only one way to go, I take another deep breath, before answering his question. "It fell out of Lilah's purse when she was in a hurry this morning to go to work.."

"Lilah?" Fred frowns, shaking her head, "I know only one Lilah, but you can't-"

"But he does, doesn't he?" Gunn interrupts his girlfriend, "God, Wesley, I thought you couldn't go any lower than betraying your friends, but I was wrong, huh?"

His voice is bitter and I hate to hear it.

" You're sleeping with Lilah Morgan? I can't believe I once called you my friend, man."

Wanting to crawl into the deepest hole I can find, I still manage to keep my eyes up, and locked with his, "Yes, I am," meaning both. Yes, I'm sleeping with Lilah, and I'm feeling like the lowest creature, but I'm also still his friend, even though he doesn't care for this friendship anymore.

"But that's not the point here."

I ignore Fred's gasp at my revelation, ignore that I feel like being torn apart. I am what I am now, and there is no going back.

"The point is, I translated this prophecy - so far it's been more accurate than anything I've ever seen before."

Instantly interest flickers in Gunn's still distrustful eyes. "And what exactly does it say?"

"It says a lot about Angel, the vampire with the soul, about Connor, even about Darla …," I pause, looking at them gravely," and it mentions Buffy."

"Buffy?" Fred looks at me in puzzlement, before she suddenly smiles, "Oh, you mean Buffy. The one who died and came back."

"Yes," I confirm. "The very same. In dying and coming back - twice I want to mention - she fulfilled another part of the prophecy. It was foretold." I frown thinking about another part of the text I don't understand so far, but maybe that'll come later. Right now, only one part is important. "Buffy, not mentioned by name of course, but I'm still certain she's the one, is meant to join forces with the vampire with a soul. Together they will fight the forces of darkness."

I once again run a hand through my hair, feeling tired and exhausted all of a sudden. "We always thought we had to keep them apart while in reality they are meant to fight together. And Connor is part of this. A battle of never seen dimensions is coming. If Slayer and vampire won't join forces it will be lost."

I shake my head, needing to sit down, and doing exactly that. "We need Angel. And we need him now. So I'm back to my first question. Where is Angel?"

Gunn scratches his bald head, then he looks at me, his eyes still angry and distant but at least they're not as hostile as they were in the beginning. "As I said, we tried to find him. And Cordy. So far no luck."

"We tried all the bars, even contacted Lorne," Fred pipes in.

"Where is he anyway?" I ask. Did he move? Rebuilt his club? True, I more or less lived in Lilah's apartment for the past three months, but I'd still have heard if the club was re-opened.

"Went to Vegas," Gunn informs me. "Not a bad idea, if you ask me," he adds on a sigh.

"Well, I'm not asking," I snap, then shake my head. "I'm sorry. But this," I point at the prophecy," is highly disturbing. It's bloody serious. We need to find Angel. The prophecy specifically refers to him here. Without him we don't have a chance to defeat this new threat."

"Well, how about asking your new girlfriend?" Gunn says bitingly.

Resisting the urge to tell him to mind his own business, because it certainly won't help here, I swallow the bitter feeling that enters my mouth. I suddenly feel dirty again, something that was so familiar these past months, but was missing for five minutes, and it's strange how fast you can get used to not feeling dirty.

Still, I manage to let my voice sound firm, "Yeah, we could. But she wouldn't help, she doesn't know anything or she would've told me." Or at least that's what I want to believe, knowing very well that I'm lying to myself. Lilah never trusted me. She will never trust me. For her I'm nothing more than a good lay (or at least I hope I am) with the nice little side-effect that I've been part of Angel Investigations for years.

I see Fred walking towards Gunn, and putting a hand on his arm. She whispers something I can't hear, and after a moment, Gunn rubs his neck and nods. Then he raises his head to look at me, the anger replaced my wariness. "Alright, man" he says finally, "My girl here convinced me that we should risk it. But I'm warning you, one wrong move and you're going to pay. Is that understood?"

"Understood," I reply, wanting nothing more than hold out my hand. But I know he wouldn't take it. It's too early. I will have to work for the privilege.

"Okay," Gunn nods again, "So what are we going to do? We didn't find Angel for three months. Neither did we find any trace of where Cordy might be."

He doesn't say it, but I still understand that he's run out of ideas, and for a moment I'm feeling panic threatening to consume me. What if we don't find Angel? What if we can't defeat this new threat?”

"Wesley?"

Fred's soft voice pulls me back on track. I look at her, her warm eyes, her gentle smile. And at Gunn, the warrior, the scarred street kid, the fighter. They seem mismatched and yet they seem to belong. To think they and all the other people would die, if-. "There's only one thing left," I say firmly, hoping that my voice will give them hope, something that's currently missing in my world, "We're going to contact the one person who - hopefully - will be more eager to find him than we. And who has the strength to fight if necessary."

"Connor?" Fred's eyes are full of irritation. "But he's here."

"No, not Connor," Gunn tells her.

"No, not Connor," I confirm. "We need to contact the Slayer. We need to go to Sunnydale and talk to Buffy Summers."