October 31, 2006
9,126 words
Written for Margie in the Maleslashminis' Wesley round. Request found after the fic.
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The children were frantic, arms waving in the air, almost knocking each other over as they all tried to be the first to get to Xander. All of them were talking at once, and it took some time for Xander to understand what they were telling him. He might have picked up some of the language, but it was kind of hard to keep up when the children were speaking so fast. He finally understood some of the words, though, and managed to figure it out; a white man fell from the sky, there was blood all over him, and he was by the river.
Xander was pretty sure that whoever this man was, he hadn't actually fallen from the sky--although around here, you could never really tell--but he followed the children to the riverbank anyway. He'd spent enough time with them in the past that he knew this wasn't another one of their games. He had to run to keep up with them; they might be children, but they could outrun him any day of the week.
"Here!" Fu said, coming to a halt just a few feet from the running water and pointing to the left.
Xander hurried to the man's side, and then stopped just a step away. What surprised him, though, wasn't the blood, or the clothes, or even where the man actually was--in a small clearing with the sun shining straight on his body. No, the surprising thing was that this man was supposed to be very, very dead; 'knifed-in-the-gut-by-a-powerful-evil-warlock-during-an-apocalypse-that-destroyed-half-of-L.A.' dead.
"Wesley," Xander whispered in shock, and then shut his mouth, because shock wasn't worth all the bugs that would find their way into there if he kept it opened. He asked the kids to move away and let the man breathe, and approached him carefully, kneeling by Wesley's side to feel for a pulse. He found one and sighed in relief. Wesley's eyes opened suddenly, and Xander snatched his hand away, startled.
Wesley looked around, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light. A look of recognition appeared on his face after a while, and he groaned. "Xander?" It sounded like a question, so Xander nodded, although he wasn't sure Wesley actually needed the confirmation. "I--I should be dead. Where am I?"
"Tanzania."
"But--I--I died."
Xander knew that. And what Xander really wanted to know now was how the hell he'd come back, but he just smiled. "You look pretty alive to me, what with the talking and the heart beating and everything." Wesley glared at him, but his look quickly turned to pain and confusion again. And Xander realized that maybe he should be thinking about moving him, because the ground was probably not very comfortable. "Can you walk?"
"I was dead."
Xander snickered and then smiled, tugging on Wesley's arm. "If there's one thing I learned in this business, it's that dead people rarely stay that way. And I didn't ask if you were dead or not, the whole pulse thing kinda answered that already. I just want to know if you can walk, or if I have to go get my car."
Wesley sighed and then took a deep breath, trying to sit up. "Bloody hell!" he groaned, wrapping an arm around his middle and breathing heavily.
Xander frowned, a hand holding Wesley's back, worried that Wesley wouldn't actually make it all the way to his apartment. "That looks bad. Let me?" He reached out to take Wesley's hand away, but when Wesley flinched, Xander let his hand drop to his side. "Okay, not looking here. But I'm taking you back to my place, and we can get you cleaned up in there." He nodded to the blood covering Wesley's shirt. "I'd take you to the hospital, but there's a serious lack of one."
That wasn't completely true; there was a hospital, but it was a private--really tiny--one catering only to the rich and not really needy, (which consisted of about, oh, three people in this town) and Xander might have counted as one of those, but even then, the hospital really wasn't any good. Xander never bothered with it unless something happened that he couldn't deal with himself, which had yet to happen, and thank God for that. Oh, and the hospital was on the other side of the village. Xander's apartment was closer, and he'd done enough stitches in his time that he knew his way around a needle.
"The wound is only superficial," Wesley whispered, sounding surprised, but not really relieved, like he expected and wanted something else. Xander couldn't figure out what would be better than a superficial wound, though. Well, apart from no wound at all.
"Yeah, well," Xander said, helping Wesley to his feet, "I'll be the judge of that. Come on." Wesley was shaking, and for a moment, Xander thought he might not actually be able to stay up, but Wesley held on more tightly to Xander's shoulders, and didn't fall. He seemed steadier on his feet after a few seconds of standing, and Xander took a small step forward.
The children were still there, hiding behind the trees, and they moved closer when they saw Xander and Wesley standing. Xander told them to move out of the way, and Wesley stopped his faltering steps and looked at him and then back at the children, surprised, and maybe a bit shocked.
"What? They're just curious," Xander offered as an explanation, his ears warming up as he blushed. It was a good thing he'd decided to wear his hair long, because it did a good job of hiding the flush. He didn't really know why he was blushing at all, but there was something in Wesley's gaze that looked a bit like admiration, and Xander couldn't help it.
"No." Wesley shook his head, and then seemed to regret it almost immediately, his whole expression turning into a grimace. "It's not--not about the children," he continued, his voice just a little unsteady. "I'm simply impressed at how you seem to have learned Swahili quite well, and yet could barely keep up with French in high school."
"Swahili is so easier than French," Xander said, his whole face flushing to keep his ears company, though he wasn't sure whether he was blushing at the compliment or the mention of his poor grades in high school. Which, of course, was the last time he saw Wesley alive, and it was a bit difficult to reconcile this man with the pompous watcher of years ago.
"You know, you talk a lot for a man who's supposed to be dead." He said it with a smile, though, hoping that Wesley would take it for the joke that it was and not be offended by it. "And living in this place for two years, you kind of have to pick up some of the words. Or you just might eat worms for breakfast without knowing it." And yes, that was the voice of experience talking.
They walked slowly through the streets leading to Xander's building. "Almost there."
Wesley looked relieved. There were both sweating heavily by now; even though Wesley barely weighed anything, and Xander wasn't really carrying him. The sun was high in the sky; there wasn't a cloud to cover it up, just miles and miles of perfect blue. Xander knew it couldn't last, because the humidity was thick, but rain didn't really have a pattern there. It could be clear one minute and pouring the next.
When they finally arrived, Xander found Mrs. Bota waiting for him by the front door, holding his weekly mail. She barely glanced at Wesley, years of heightened demonic activity having already taken its toll on most of the villagers to the point where they were almost as blind to strange events as the people of Sunnydale had been. Smiling at her, Xander tucked the two letters in his back pocket, and helped Wesley climb up the stairs leading to the third floor. "Sorry, this place was built when there were still dinosaurs out there, so there's no elevator."
Wesley smiled--for about a second, but that was still a small victory for Xander--and shrugged as if Xander hadn't needed to apologize for something that was clearly not his fault. "What are you doing in Tanzania?" His voice was shaking and filled with pain, and Xander couldn't wait until this never-ending ascension was finally over.
"I'm training three slayers who were born here."
"Three? In this village alone?"
This time, the pain gave way to curiosity and maybe even a bit of awe. Xander grinned and kept on climbing. This was his story to tell, and he was oddly proud of it, of what he'd managed to accomplish since moving here. "Yeah, all of them are from the same family. Two are sisters, just a couple years apart, and the other's their cousin on their mom's side. The whole council's in over their head about it, trying to make the connection to a recessive gene or something. I don't really ask about the biological stuff, but what I know is that this village--and I don't know if you noticed when we were outside, but we're about thirty miles from the Kilimanjaro--is a center for mystical energy. Not like a hellmouth, but close. I think the fact that three girls from here were called has more to do with the fact that they need them, than because it's a hereditary thing."
"This is quite--yes, I can see how the Council would be interested in this phenomenon." Wesley groaned, but kept going.
"Just a few more steps," Xander said, looking ahead to where he could see his door. "We're almost there."
"You're proud of them. The girls, I mean," Wesley stated, his breath coming out in short pants.
Xander knew it wasn't really a question, but he nodded anyway. He finally stopped in front of his door, and let Wesley lean against the wall while he dug around his pockets for his keys. "Yeah. I am. They're really great girls. With impossible names, but I just gave them nicknames and it's fine. Makes them laugh." He hadn't been able to pronounce any of their names right the first or second or, you know, hundredth time he'd tried, so he'd given up. And even now that he could pronounce them, they didn't mind, and he'd gotten used to the nicknames. "There's Hub and Dub, and Cali. Cali's in England for the summer, learning and training with other slayers. It's Hub's turn in September, and then Dub's in January; and then the cycle starts again." Xander finally got the door unlocked and helped Wesley to the couch.
"You can't send all of them at once?"
Xander sighed and shook his head in defeat. "I really wish I could, because they hate to be apart, and alone and everything, which I really get, but this place seriously can't be left without a slayer or twelve. You can't tell during the day, but it gets really dangerous at night. Before I got here, they had a death toll of like, four a day. It used to be a much bigger town than it is now; those who didn't die moved away; at least, the ones who could." Most of those who had stayed were too poor, or had too large families to try to move them.
"Yes," Wesley said, leaning his head against the back of the couch. He closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. "It seemed deserted for the most part."
Wesley couldn't have noticed much, with the pain and all, but Xander knew it was pretty obvious anyway. The streets were mostly empty, and some houses--if you could call these hut-like things with windows, houses--were left in shambles from the people who had left in a hurry, or been killed without leaving any family. Xander picked up his first-aid kit from the kitchen counter right behind him and sat down on the coffee table, reaching for Wesley's shirt. Relieved that Wesley didn't pull away immediately or even flinch, Xander set about taking the shirt off. Most of the fabric was glued to Wesley's skin by the blood, and Xander tilted his head and bit his lip, putting every effort into making this as painless as he could. It couldn't be comfortable, but Wesley barely groaned.
Peeling the shirt away bit by bit, it took a while for Xander to realize that there wasn't any wound. The hole in Wesley's top clearly outlined a stab mark, but Xander couldn't see anything. Frowning, he stood and left Wesley in the living room while he found a rag and filled a bucket of warm-ish water. Back on the coffee table, he wetted the cloth and carefully wiped the blood off Wesley's stomach.
"How bad is it?"
Xander hadn't stopped frowning, and he looked up to find Wesley's eyes opened and looking at him. "Is this where you got stabbed?" he asked, dragging the rag across an angry-looking, but still obviously long-healed, scar.
"Yes," Wesley hissed.
"There's nothing there--just a scar." Xander put the rag down on the table, and brushed his fingers over the scar, which made Wesley hiss again. "Does it still hurt?"
"Doesn't it look like it hurts?" Wesley bit back, his features turning to anger. He covered the scar with his hand and sat up straight, forcing Xander to move back.
"Sorry," he said, holding up his hands. "I just don't understand why. The wound's healed."
Wesley sighed, taking his hand away and looking down at his stomach. "Phantom pain, perhaps. A way to remind me that I've died and shouldn't be here at all."
Something in Wesley's voice and the way he was holding himself told Xander that he was tired, and maybe now wasn't the time to start talking about the why and the how. "That makes some weird kind of sense," Xander said, instead of asking the next question on the tip of his tongue.
Sleeping arrangements would be a problem. The couch was so bad that there was no way it could be used as a bed for anyone who valued their back. The last time Giles had been there, he'd brought an inflatable mattress, because the time before that had been a nightmare and Xander had ended up giving Giles his bed and sleeping on the floor, which really wasn't much better than the couch--but Giles had given the mattress to Cali's mom when he'd left.
Xander put the first-aid kit back on the counter and dumped the rag into the garbage with the remnants of Wesley's shirt, since there was no way they could even try to salvage it. "I'll go get you some clean clothes."
Wesley nodded, and Xander went into his room. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and quickly picked up the dirty laundry from the floor and dumped it in the basket by the door. "Here, you can keep these," he said, back in the living room, and holding out the clean clothes for Wesley. "We'll need to ask someone to send some other clothes more in your size, but for now they'll do. You can sleep in the bedroom for the day. I'll try to find a more permanent solution, but beds are in short supply, and it's not like there's an IKEA close by or something."
Wesley took the clothes, nodding his head slowly. "Would it be possible to grab a shower first?"
"Yeah, sure," Xander replied, wondering how the hell he hadn't thought of that. "Just don't expect hot water. Sometimes you get some, most of the time you don't."
"In this heat," Wesley smiled wryly, "the cold water will be sincerely welcome."
Xander barely noticed the heat anymore, but sure enough, there was sweat rolling down on Wesley's chest, and Xander's temples were dripping too. "Yeah, good point." He stood and helped Wesley up. "I'll give you some clean towels, and then I'll run downstairs and see if I can get a hold of the shaman. Maybe he has an idea of what's going on. Do you think you'll be okay?"
Wesley rolled his eyes at that. "I'm not quite an invalid yet."
"Hey, you're the one who was dead just an hour ago, so I don't know, I'm just asking." He showed Wesley to the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels from under the sink. "There. If you need anything else, just yell, someone'll hear you."
Xander was a bit worried about leaving Wesley on his own, but the shaman usually disappeared after lunch, and Xander needed to hurry if he wanted to catch him before he did. And to be honest, he wasn't unhappy at the thought of leaving the apartment for a bit. Wesley might be a miracle or something, and he did look a lot less stuffy than he used to be, but his appearance still turned Xander's life upside down.
He needed to think. He wasn't used to taking care of anyone else; the slayers, sure, but they had their families and all Xander had to do, really, was train them and make sure they knew what they were up against. The rest wasn't up to him.
He didn't have the chance to do much thinking, though, because he found the shaman waiting for him downstairs.
"Man here?" the old man asked in heavily-accented English.
Xander nodded, answering him in Swahili. "Yes. Do you know something about that?"
"The children found me and told me about him." He gestured for Xander to sit down at his side. "I prayed for help last night when the signs were right and the moon full."
"You prayed for help?" That really didn't sound good, and Xander was reminded of what Giles had told him in an email after his last visit: The man has great power. Don't take what he says lightly. He could put Willow to shame.
"Yes. Is this man the answer? The Fu child tells me you know him."
"I do, but--you really just prayed for help? You didn't use any, you know, herbs?"
"Of course, of course, the praying herbs, as always."
"Oh. Kay." Xander rubbed his nose. Herbs meant possibly a ritual, which usually meant an incantation, which usually led to a spell, which was, oh yeah, bad news. "Why?"
"The evil is still spreading, and I prayed to the gods for them to bring help to you." The shaman didn't actually look excited, he never did, but he was rubbing his hands together and there was a glint in his eyes. "All the signs were right, and the moon was full, so I prayed. The last time, they sent you. And now this man, yes? He is here to help you and the three chosen ones."
Xander was pretty sure that whatever the old man had done had summoned Wesley here. "I don't know, yet." The question now was why Wesley, and why now? And what kind of help could he actually bring? The last time Xander and Wesley worked together--if you could actually call that working--well, Wesley hadn't really been much help.
And never mind the fact that Wesley was still dead just over an hour ago. It was one thing to make Xander go to Tanzania instead of, say, Uganda, but it was something else entirely to actually call someone back from the dead.
The shaman left without another word, and Xander stayed where he was for a few more minutes before walking back upstairs. He found Wesley rummaging around the kitchen, the kettle whistling on the stove. "Looking for something?"
Wesley looked up, startled. "Yes. I--uh, I found some tea, and I was wondering if you had any cups."
"Oh, yeah, I do." Xander opened one of the cupboards closer to the door, and picked up a cup that he handed to Wesley. Wesley reached for it and their fingers touched. Xander took his hand away a bit too fast, and bit his lip, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water from the old fridge. "Giles made sure I had at least a couple for when he comes to visit. He left the tea."
"Does he visit often?"
"Nah, he can't. He's got a lot of work with the Council and everything so he can't spare the time. But he came twice. The girls came a few times too. Well, Buffy and Dawn did; Willow still hasn't visited. It gets lonely."
"I'm sure it must." Wesley finished his tea, and Xander followed him to the bedroom. Wesley stopped at the door and turned to Xander. "I hope it's all right that I bring my tea in here."
"You should see what I eat in bed." Xander laughed, walking in and sitting down on the edge of the bed. Wesley looked a bit hesitant to climb into the bed, and Xander chuckled. "The sheets won't eat you. They're actually clean."
Wesley blushed and shook his head. "I'm sorry." He climbed in and leaned his head against the headboard, pushing the blankets away. "How do you manage to sleep in this heat?"
"Stay here for a few months, and you won't notice it anymore. Drinking hot tea probably won't help, though."
"You might be right about that," Wesley said, snickering, but taking a sip all the same. "But it's quite comforting."
"I bet." They stayed silent for a minute. Xander debated whether he should tell Wesley about the shaman yet or wait after he had slept a little. With a sigh, he finally decided that now would be better than later, and he told Wesley about the conversation he'd had downstairs. "I think he might be the reason you're here. I'll have to ask Giles if he thinks the old man's actually got the power enough to do it, but it seems likely to me."
"But why me? He could have summoned dozens of other people, who are alive, which would have required a lot less power than he probably had to use. It's easier to simply nudge someone into traveling than bring them back from the dead. And how would he have known who to ask for? Something else must be at play, even if he is the conduit."
"Were you in heaven?"
"I'm sorry?"
Xander shook his head, wishing he could take that question back, but it came out before he even realized what he was going to ask. "Buffy, when she died the second time, she was in heaven. Coming back was really hard on her." Xander looked at Wesley, and could practically see the wheels turning in Wesley's head.
"I can't recall anything besides the moment I died. Just the knowledge that I was dead." Wesley sighed, sipping more of his tea and then putting the cup down on the old battered box that served as a nightstand. "Perhaps it'll come back with time."
"Yeah, maybe." Xander nodded, even though he didn't think it took more than a few minutes for Buffy to remember everything. They'd never talked about it though, so Xander couldn't be sure. Maybe he should email her. Or maybe not, because that would be one awkward conversation that Xander never ever wanted to have.
Xander looked down at the floor, the old carpet stretched so thin it didn't feel or look like a carpet anymore, and sighed. He wished he had some answers already, something to let him know what he was supposed to do. But he didn't, and he was pretty sure Wesley wasn't actually waiting for him to have all the answers, so it wasn't that big of a deal. But it still felt like it. He was the go-to guy here; everyone in the village came to him for answers when the shaman didn't have them--which happened whenever a demon was involved. It felt weird not to know what was going on with Wesley being here, and why and how and--
He sighed again, and turned back to Wesley to tell him he was going for a walk, but he found Wesley asleep. He was lying down on his side, knees drawn up, pillow tucked between an arm and his head. For some reason, Xander reached out and ran a hand through Wesley's hair. It was stupid, but it made him feel a little bit more real. Wesley's hair was silky and still wet from the shower, and short, a lot shorter than Xander's hair was now. He didn't know why it mattered, but it did.
Wesley was so different from the last time Xander saw him. But then again, it'd been years, and Xander had changed too. Experiences changed people, and from what Xander had heard, Wesley had a lot of stuff happening to him the last few years he'd been alive. Not that Angel talked about it much, but Xander had spent a few days with Gunn in L.A. just after the battle, keeping him company in the hospital, and it made him feel better to talk about it, about the fallen--Spike, and Wesley, and Cordelia, and even Lorne, who hadn't really died, but was still gone just the same--and Xander had listened.
Sighing, Xander realized he was still touching Wesley, his hand now settled against Wesley's cheek, and took it away, slowly. Ignoring the weird tingling feeling in his stomach, Xander left Wesley in the bedroom and closed the door. He picked up his laptop from the counter and sat on the couch, his feet tucked underneath himself.
He powered it up, and was relieved when the Internet connection worked on the first try. The Internet might be slightly better than the phone--which dropped every single call and then failed to reconnect again for hours at a time--but it could still be annoying, what with the number of times it wouldn't actually connect unless Xander was sitting a certain way, or holding his arm up in the air like an antenna--okay, maybe not that bad, but close enough.
Xander quickly checked his email, smiling when he saw one from Dawn. He read it first, with a smile on his face, because her babble always managed to make him feel better. For a moment, it felt like they were back in Sunnydale, and she was right there with him, flailing and bouncing on her feet as she talked.
After sending her a quick reply, Xander wrote his email to Giles, and then spent ten minutes debating whether he should email Angel too or not. In the end, he settled on not, figuring that he should leave that to Wesley, for when he was ready.
Xander left the computer on, putting it down on the coffee table so he would be notified when Giles sent his reply, and, after checking up on Wesley, he went downstairs to find his girls.
The town had been a tourist trap years ago, when the Kilimanjaro had still been a 'sight-to-see'. Now, tourists avoided this place like the plague, mostly because the demon population was very much on the rise. Not in the city itself, because there was very little place for them to hide, but closer to the mountain, in caves, and an underground system that Xander had yet to find, but he knew was there. There were still vestiges from that 'golden' time though, and Xander's apartment building was one. It seemed so out of place, now, like a piece of steel in a bucket of dirt. But at least it had electricity (when it worked) and running water (when the pipes didn't give up) and sometimes there was even hot water. It was as much comfort as Xander was going to get.
Xander knew that looking for an extra bed for Wesley wouldn't be successful, and he felt bad even thinking about asking the people here, his friends, because he knew they would so totally put five or six kids in the same bed just so Wesley could have a place to sleep. Xander wouldn't ask them to do that. Didn't mean he couldn't keep looking. Maybe next time he drove the three hours to the nearest--bigger--town, he could check out the stores. They were bound to have a bed. At least he hoped so.
Hub and Dub were, as always, bubbly and full of energy. They had just about thirty thousand questions about this new man 'fallen from the sky', and Xander did his best to answer them. He finally left them when their mom called them in for dinner, and he went back to his place.
Cooking dinner for someone else was actually fun. Xander hadn't totally forgotten it, because there'd been Dawn and Buffy, and Giles, and sometimes the girls stayed for lunch, and he cooked for them too. But somehow, this felt different. It felt like he had to prove something, impress Wesley in some way--not in a bad way, where Xander was feeling pressured, but more like he wanted to impress Wesley... for some reason.
"It smells delightful."
Xander turned around, still holding the pot, and smiled at Wesley. "Thanks. Slept well?"
"Yes, actually. I wouldn't have pegged your bed for comfortable, but it was." His hair was tousled, and he had the impression of the pillow on his cheek, which was still red from sleep. And Xander had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making a comment that would sound like 'adorable', but really wasn't. Because that would be bad.
Xander settled for a nervous--at least it sounded nervous to him, but Wesley didn't seem to notice--chuckle, and went back to the food. It was done in minutes, and he filled both their plates, and brought them to the table, where he found Wesley hunched over Xander's calendar, the one Dawn had brought him from Rome the last time she'd been over--just a couple months late for the new year.
"Has it really been a year?" Wesley's voice was almost emotionless, and Xander felt scared for a moment. There was something underneath the cold, a bit like 'loss' or 'pain', though. Xander couldn't ever tell the difference between the two, but at least, Wesley wasn't completely bitter.
"Yeah. I'm sorry." He put the plates down and went back for utensils, before he sat down. He reached out for the salt at the same time as Wesley and snatched his hand away when their fingers touched. "Sorry," he said again.
Wesley sighed, and nodded. "Have I missed anything historically important, then?"
For some reason, that made Xander smile. He picked up the salt when Wesley handed it to him. "I couldn't tell you. I don't really keep up with what's going on outside of here and the Council. Giles or Angel could fill you in, if you asked them." Wesley just stared at him, and Xander did the mental equivalent of banging his head on a wall, because maybe this wasn't the best time ever to mention Angel.
"He survived, then."
Not really a question, but Xander nodded anyway. "Yeah. Gunn, and the Illyria thing too."
"Spike?"
Xander shook his head. "No."
"You--of course you know."
"Yeah, Angel told us. He died, again, saving Gunn from an axe. Figures he'd die twice saving the world." Xander ate his food slowly, trying to figure out the best way to bring Wesley up to date. "Angel's working for us now. Giles figured it'd be the best way to keep an eye on him, and I think Angel actually likes it. And he can even be helpful. Sometimes. When he's not constantly brooding over--you know, your death and Spike's and Cordelia's, and everybody else's." That brings a smile to Wesley's lips, and Xander felt a bit smug at it. "Gunn's in L.A. helping with the rebuilding and stuff."
"Illyria?"
"Beats me. We never actually saw it after the initial saving of Angel's ass. I think he's keeping tabs on it, but I couldn't tell you for sure."
Wesley stayed silent after this, and Xander wasn't actually unhappy with that, because Wesley must have needed a lot of thinking time. So Xander didn't push or tried to make small talk. He was picking up his empty plate when the computer beeped 'you've got mail'. Xander didn't waste any time, just put his plate back down and strode to the coffee table.
Giles was actually wordy, and it took Xander a few minutes to read the email, but when he was done, he looked up to find Wesley looking at him. "I sent Giles an email, about you. He just wrote me back." When Wesley only raised his eyebrow, Xander continued: "Here, let me read it to you.
"I'm not quite certain that you aren't joking. But on the other hand, it isn't like you to make up such a tale. I wish I could say it surprises me that Wesley has reappeared, at least, more than it does, but that would be a lie. We never did find his body after all. His death couldn't be verified.
I've read, some years ago, that it is possible for a man on the edge of death, to be held in a sort of limbo by the Powers That Be while he heals and until he is needed again. I believe the author said it could only be true of a major asset for the Powers, someone who hasn't realized his full destiny, or who can still be of use to them at a later date. It's quite a rare occurrence, and at the time of reading, I believed the author of the book to be quite possibly insane. But if what you told me about Wesley's reappearance is true, then it was possibly not so farfetched. I'll have to dig up this book again.
Perhaps Wesley's destiny hadn't been fulfilled yet, and the Powers chose not to let him go. Perhaps they have something greater in store for him.
As to the question of why he appeared in Tanzania, well I can't say for sure, but the shaman's plea might have had something to do with it. Although if the Powers already knew Wesley would be needed still in the future, I'm not sure if the shaman's magical powers actually entered in the balance. I'll have to do more research on the subject. Perhaps a visit is in order?
You have told me yourself, though, that the situation, while improving, is not 'better' yet. Perhaps Wesley is the help you've been needing. I'd offer the means for Wesley to come to England, but I believe he should stay with you until we know for certain that this isn't where he is actually needed.
You've mentioned him still experiencing a phantom pain. I believe that it is linked to his being in limbo for so long. While he was kept there, his body healed itself, but his mind wasn't allowed to register this healing process, and so it will take some time before it catches up to the body. It remembers being in pain just moments before its resurrection, and the pain imprint is the most memorable on the mind. It should fade with time, as the body gets used to this new state.
I'll have the research department on the issue by the end of the day. Anything of note that we find, I'll forward to you. But I'm quite certain that there are no actual, satisfying answers to the how and the why--as you say. Perhaps we all should accept this as the miracle that it is.
I find I'm rather looking forward to meeting Wesley, myself. I'll let you know when I will be there.
Oh, and while I think of it, Cali is doing quite well, here, although I fear she rather misses her mother and siblings. Perhaps she could write emails to them, and you could pass them along? (If I have managed to get accustomed to this blasted thing, she, who is much younger and adaptable, would too, I'm sure.)"
"I admit, the thought of Giles sitting down at a computer to write emails is almost comical," Wesley said, smiling again.
Xander laughed. "Andrew had to sit down with him for hours to get him to understand how to use the computer. But it's really the best way for us to keep in touch. The phone's a real pain in the ass."
"I bet. Especially if what you've said about this being a center for mystical energy is right. Not only is the phone system in bad shape, but there's also mystical interference, which would make it almost impossible to use for long distances."
"Yep," Xander said, nodding. "So, do you think he's on to something?"
"Quite possibly, yes. It wouldn't surprise me if my appearance had nothing to do with the shaman's power, and everything to do with the Powers playing with me. I have to admit though," Wesley said, looking almost relieved, "it's almost heartwarming to know that I might actually be needed for something."
"Oh, you're definitely needed around here." Wesley smiled at that. Damn, he really did have a nice smile, and Xander needed to stop thinking like that, because that could only lead to badness.
"Then I might as well stick around and see what's in store for me."
"I could always use the company."
And it was good company, too. A day, two days, a week, a month passed, and Xander still hadn't tired of Wesley hanging around. They talked about demon-y stuff, and about the Council and about the town, and the people, and about other things not totally unrelated, always edging towards more personal stuff but taking their time to get there. It took two months before Xander finally told Wesley about the eyepatch, and a few more days before Wesley opened up about the scar on his throat.
Three months, and Anya and Fred found their way into the conversation. Both lost, both still so close, and yet so distant, because neither Wesley nor Xander was actually mourning anymore. At least, Xander was surprised to find he wasn't. His memories of Anya didn't hurt as much as they used to, and Xander was grateful for that. Especially when Wesley touched him. Always accidentally, but it was there, and Xander got that tingling feeling every single time.
They mostly spoke at night, when they were walking back home from patrol, or sitting down under the stars, waiting for the first signs of the demons they were after. There were days when Xander wished he had some kind of alcohol in the place, but he managed this long without it, and it would be a seriously bad idea to start drinking again. Especially now that he had a drinking buddy. Wesley didn't seem to mind, but a drink would definitely have helped some of the conversations they'd had. Maybe even forced them to have the one conversation they were obviously avoiding.
Giles visited during the first month, and stayed just a few days, bringing another inflatable mattress that found its way down into Mrs. Bota's apartment. She had a tenth one on the way, and with the eldest almost old enough to get married, they all figured she needed it more than they did.
So Xander and Wesley shared the bed, and they didn't really mind. At least, Xander didn't, even when Wesley rolled over in his sleep and attached himself to Xander's back, or his arm, or any part of him that was close enough. Wesley was warm, and it was already hot out there, but it felt good to wake up with somebody else's skin against his. Sometimes. Okay, most of the time. Or, you know, all the time.
Xander had forgotten how it felt to be touched. And even if it was only at night, and when they were both sleeping, Wesley reminded him of it. And instead of freaking out, Xander was glad; glad that Wesley was teaching him something he'd known, but forgot. Something that was pretty much an essential part of life.
Xander felt more alive now than he had in over two years, and that was a small miracle in and of itself. Even Willow noticed, all the way over there in South America. How, Xander would never know, but she mentioned it every chance she got.
Giles hadn't brought more answers with him, and strangely, they were all okay with that. He did put Wesley's name on the Council's payroll though, and even brought two packages for Wesley with him: a pile of clippings from every issue of the The Times for the year Wesley had missed from Angel, and a lot of weather-appropriate clothing from Buffy and Dawn.
They still researched the why and the how, but mostly, they let it go. Wesley was going to be staying a while, and whatever he was there for, they would know, in time.
He spent most of his time by the river. Whenever he disappeared, Xander knew that's where he'd find him. Wesley called it meditating; Xander said it was brooding, but they never really argued about it. Xander watched him, sometimes, when he knew Wesley wouldn't mind.
He was watching him now, and for the first time, Xander felt compelled to sit closer, to mimic Wesley's posture, and to breathe as slowly as Wesley was. They saved Mrs. Bota's third child last night. A gangly boy of thirteen, all teeth and legs, and they were almost too late. Xander knew he wouldn't have been able to face her again if Fu hadn't been returned to her safely. The demons were getting smarter, and Xander had never been so glad to have Wesley by his side than he had been last night. He was still shaking just thinking about how close it had been, and how scared Fu had looked when Dub and Cali had finally got him out of the cave the demons were holding him in.
They needed to go back tonight and wipe out the rest of the clan. If they were still there, which was doubtful, because they really were getting smarter. But Wesley could probably outsmart them any day of the week, and that thought made Xander smile.
"Why are you smiling?"
Xander blinked, and looked at Wesley. "Why are you looking at me? Aren't you supposed to have your eyes closed when you do this?"
Wesley laughed, and shook his head, stretching his legs out. "I was curious. You never come this close when I'm brooding, as you say."
"Yeah," Xander said, looking out at the water. "I figured it might calm me down a bit. The whole thing with Fu last night kinda left me a bit--" He struggled for the word, but finally just shrugged.
"Shaken?"
"Yeah."
"It doesn't surprise me." Wesley stood and extended his hand to help Xander up. "Come on; it'll be lunch time soon. I'm starving."
Xander grabbed his hand, and the tingling was back. He knew what it was, what it meant; the problem wasn't that he couldn't figure that part out, no, the problem was that Xander was so very totally attracted to Wesley, and that could only lead to badness. Oh, and the fact that Wesley was a guy, and while Xander really had no problem with that, it was still a new and unexplored territory, and, anyway, he was so very bad at deciphering whether or not Wesley was actually interested. There were days when he thought so, and others when not so much. And Xander really didn't want this to just be about 'comfort' or 'availability'.
It was about a lot more than that for him.
So he ignored the tingling, and the butterflies in his stomach, again, in favor of racing Wesley to their apartment. Wesley got there first; he always did, but Xander was hardly jealous, because it meant he got to ogle Wesley's--okay, not going there now, he was all for the ignoring, right?
Right.
Except when it didn't work so well.
"Xander, are you all right?" Wesley asked, and Xander realized he was still standing in the doorway with the door opened.
"Huh." He shut the door, and turned back to Wesley, who was still looking at him like he'd grown a couple of horns. "No," Xander finally said, reaching out to cup Wesley's cheek in his palm. And what the fuck did he think he was doing? "No, I'm not all right."
"Xander." Wesley sounded breathless, and that was so very okay, because that was exactly how Xander felt: the fast beating of his heart, the sweaty palms, the soft panting, and the dry mouth. And, oh God, was he really going to kiss Wesley now?
"Xander," Wesley said again, and this time his voice was steadier, and his fingers felt so very nice against Xander's skin where they touched his cheek. "We've been dancing around each other long enough."
"This is such a bad idea." Only, he hadn't meant to say that out loud, but it still was a really bad idea, because what if he screwed that up and Wesley left? They had something there, and even if it wasn't exactly what Xander wanted--he really wanted more--it was still better than nothing.
"I know."
Except, he wasn't pulling away, and Xander breathed in and out, trying to find a bit of calm but failing completely. "Wesley? I--okay, bad idea, but, maybe, maybe not so bad? I mean--God! What if it goes wrong? It's not just--it's not just about you and me. And I just can't--I'm so going to screw this up."
"Why?"
"Didn't you hear? I'm, like, a relationship train wreck just waiting to happen."
"So am I."
"I just know that the moment we kiss, I--I won't be able to go back."
"I think we have already crossed that line, Xander. A long time ago."
Wesley was right, of course he was. They crossed the line the first time they woke up in a tangle on the bed. But still. "Oh, fuck it." The words had barely left Xander's mouth before Wesley's lips were on his, and damn, this totally made up for the months they spent together and not doing this. Wesley's hand slipped behind Xander's neck, and held him still, firmly, his tongue sweeping across Xander's lips, who was only too happy to open them up and let Wesley in.
Xander wrapped both of his arms around Wesley's torso, bringing him closer, and holding him tightly, not letting him pull back for more than just a--much needed--breath. The kisses grew more heated, and Xander could feel all the pent-up tension building up inside; he was so hard he was probably going to come before Wesley even touched him.
"Slow down," Wesley said, panting, the next time he pulled away to breathe.
Xander nodded, and leaned his forehead against Wesley's, trying to regain a little bit of control. "God, I'm sorry. Didn't think--Shouldn't we be like, dating first?"
Wesley chuckled, and Xander could feel Wesley's whole body shaking with it. "I don't know what passes for dating in this town, but I'm pretty sure we've been doing that for three months."
"So--definitely not putting out on the first date, right?" Xander smiled, and kissed Wesley's lips swiftly, not giving either of them time to get really into it again.
"No, definitely not. This has been waiting to happen for a long time, and--I'd really rather just take you to bed now."
Xander was so totally up for that, and he probably said so too, because Wesley was moving away from him, leading him to the bedroom by holding on his hand. "You wanna make sure I don't run away?"
Wesley stopped just inside the room, and pulled Xander closer. "I think, for both our sakes, we shouldn't put this off any longer."
"You just want to get laid."
"Perhaps."
Xander laughed. He tilted his head and kissed Wesley again, groaning when Wesley opened his mouth, and Xander could slip his tongue inside. "You know this can't end well, right?"
"And what if it doesn't end?"
"Huh," Xander said, baffled for a second. "Wouldn't have thought you were such a romantic."
"I have my moments," Wesley replied, and the next kiss was sweeter, slower, more deliberate.
Oh. Damn. Xander wanted more of these, a lot more, because they really did make his heart go boom, and that was a good thing. Or a really, really bad one. "Bed."
"Clothes first. I've had enough of being teased."
"Hey, you've pretty much seen it all, you know."
"Not all." Wesley tugged Xander's shorts down, pulling his boxers at the same time, while Xander worked on his shirt, pulling it over Wesley's head. The shirt was tossed on the floor, and Xander grabbed Wesley's belt, making quick work of it, and pushing the pants and briefs down. It took two seconds to take off his own shirt, and then Wesley pushed him on the bed.
Xander tugged him down, and kissed him again, moaning at the feel of Wesley's body over his. Wesley shifted, and--God--that felt good, so fucking good. Wesley's cock against Xander's, and Wesley was moving. Xander spread his legs, groaning when Wesley settled between them, his arms on either side of Xander. Wesley was leaning on his elbows, his cock sliding right there against Xander's, and his mouth trailing kisses down Xander's neck.
It should have been weird, that Wesley was the one who knew how to do this, and Xander wasn't. But it wasn't. It wasn't weird at all, and Xander really liked it. Wesley kept teaching him things and Xander just hoped it wouldn't ever end. "Fuck, yes," Xander moaned, his fingers clutching at Wesley's back, trying to pull him even closer.
It wouldn't last, not this time; it couldn't. Xander brought his hands down and grabbed Wesley's ass, lifting his own hips, and throwing his head back when this brought even more friction on his cock. Blissful friction.
"Bloody hell," Wesley groaned right into Xander's ear, making him shiver, and then kissed Xander again, hard and fast, his mouth as desperate as his hips.
Xander wrapped his legs around Wesley's and let out another moan, his fingers desperately moving across Wesley's skin, trying to touch more of him. "God, Wesley," he said, and--damn--was that a whimper? "Not gonna--not gonna last."
"I'm not--oh God, you feel so damn good--"
Whatever Wesley was going to say was lost, and Xander couldn't even think, let alone ask about it, so he just held on, and grabbed Wesley's shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh. "Fuck, Wes!" he shouted, feeling his climax build up, and--Wesley bit down on Xander's lower lip--letting go.
Xander's whole body shook and stilled as he came. His head spun; he thought maybe he heard Wesley say something, but all he really knew was that--damn--they really shouldn't have waited this long. He felt Wesley's body covering his own, and he let his legs fall down, groaning as his muscles protested. "Damn."
"I second that." Wesley's voice was muffled, his face hidden in the crook of Xander's neck. It made Xander smile, and he could bet he probably looked more than a little stupid with that grin on his face.
Wesley was the first one to move. Still shaking, he sat up on his heels and reached over for Xander's shirt, which had somehow ended up hanging on the headboard. Wesley wiped them both clean, and then tossed the shirt away. He lay down against Xander's side, throwing an arm over Xander's stomach. "We'll need supplies."
"Uh?"
Wesley chuckled and kissed Xander's neck. "Lube, condoms. I'd like to fuck you, one day."
"Huh." That sounded--really dirty coming from Wesley, but somehow, also, very, very hot. "Yeah. Next--next time we're in town."
Neither of them spoke for a while. Xander was still recovering, his breathing slowing down bit by bit. If he moved, the whole world moved too. Oh, yeah, that's what they called a 'mind-shattering-orgasm'.
"You were right."
"Wha--?"
"Earlier, when you said that this is about much more than simply you and me."
"Uh."
Wesley chuckled, his breath tickling Xander's ear. "I think I like reducing you to syllabic non-words." He pushed himself up on his elbow, and Xander turned to look at him, blinking to keep the world as steady as possible. "I know why I'm here. Why I came back."
"You do?"
Wesley licked his lips and smiled, trailing a finger down Xander's chest. "Second chances. Not just for me, but for you also. We've both been--hurt by this life, probably more than our fair share." He touched the eyepatch, softly, then pulled it away.
Xander didn't even flinch. Maybe, an hour ago, he would have, but now, it didn't really matter. And he felt way too good to care. When Wesley touched the marked skin there, Xander reached up and let a finger gently sweep across Wesley's scar.
"We're scarred, you and I, different. And yet, we still care." Wesley took a deep breath at that. "I don't think I've told you that before, but--I stopped caring. In that last year, after--I couldn't care whether I lived or died. It made no difference to me."
Xander gulped and shook his head. "I know--I know exactly how that feels."
"I know."
It was different now. Wesley kissed him again, and Xander finally understood what Wesley meant, why he was telling him all this. They were different. They cared. And not just for 'other people' in general, in a 'saving the world' kind of way. Xander cared for Wesley, another human being, just as scarred as he was, just as hurt.
Africa had changed them, in the way that Africa changed people. You couldn't touch the African soil and not be changed.
And somehow, that was okay.
They were still going to save the world every time they could, even tonight if they could find the rest of that clan, but they would stop looking for the answer to the how and the why, because it didn't matter anymore. Even if they were wrong, and Wesley wasn't actually here because they'd both been giving a second chance at this, it didn't matter. They were going to keep saving the world. Together.
And maybe it wouldn't need to end.
***
Male character they want paired with Wesley: Xander
Things they want in the fic: Wesley teaching Xander something, emails, and accidental (sexy) touches
Things they *don't* want in the fic: non-con, character death
Preferred maximum rating: NC-17