Moonlight Shadows
by Lara

SUMMARY: Alone...together. After a betrayal.

RATING: FRM [SS] [A] [AU]

PAIRING: Fred/Wesley

SPOILERS: Through Season 4 of Angel with some reference to general spoilers from Season 5.

DISCLAIMER: I only wish I were as successful as Joss Whedon. He and Mutant Enemy own this; I just write fanfic for fun while waiting for my own big break.

DISTRIBUTION: Permission granted to WNW and Blue Moon Rising. If anyone else wants to archive it, please let me know.

FEEDBACK: Very much appreciated. Please e-mail lara@darling-moon.com. Flames, however, will be used to fuel the fire in Wesley’s next spell casting session.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Not sure what to say about this one. Had the image from the opening paragraph, and when I started writing, it unfolded on its own terms. This is not a happy fic. By any stretch of the imagination.

Wesley wakes up in the middle of the night, the curtains partially open, moonlight spilling through, slicing through the shadows of this motel room. His eyes follow the shimmering white across, up onto the bed to the illuminated form sleeping next to him, her body curled up tightly into an almost fetal position, her hand resting on his chest in a fist.

Reaching over, he pushes her long dark hair away from her face, swearing once more under his breath at the sight of slowly healing bite marks that mar her skin. Suddenly, she cries out, writhing almost violently as her fist grasps the t-shirt he’s worn to bed, the rapid movement under her closed eyelids telling him that she’s dreaming again of what happened three nights before, trying to fight, being overpowered. He moves his hand up to her temple, rubbing gently and whispering to her softly, telling her she’s safe now until she finally settles down, her fist relaxing its grip on his shirt.

I should have known. I should have realized.

As he shifts onto his back, he wraps his arms around her and draws her closer though not in a way that will make her think she’s again being attacked. She mumbles something unintelligible while her body uncurls, instead molding to his, her head pillowing to his chest, her ear pressed right above his heart. She mumbles something again, and this time, he hears her.

“Alive.”

Damn him. Damn them.

He stares at the shadowy ceiling, the events that have led them here playing in his mind’s eye like a movie, every image clear and sharp, a dagger in his heart.

The lobby of Wolfram and Hart was dark when he stepped off the lift after a late night of research in his office.

Fred, visible in the moonlight coming through the building’s glass conservatory windows, had just reached the main doors and was keying in the open code.

The blur of shadow moved just as he was about to call out to her.

The yellow eyes flashed in the moonlight around them.

Her scream rang out as fangs pierced her neck.

Angel.

No...Angelus.

The rest of what happened is still somewhat of a blur. He vaguely remembers having activated his hidden stake shooter, hitting the vampire in the neck, causing him to let her go. Moments later, he was next to her on the floor, enfolding her into his arms as Angelus disappeared. He looked up, saw Eve – with Gunn next to her – standing on the upper mezzanine, a smirk on her face. She had then touched Gunn’s arm before they melted into the shadows.

And suddenly, he had realized.

They had been set up.

Gunn had been changing ever since they had agreed to “take over” Wolfram and Hart. Both Wesley and Fred had been concerned by their friend’s sudden attitude change, the way he had been acting toward both of them, as if they were all in some kind of competition instead of colleagues. And Eve had always seemed to be there, whispering in the other man’s ear. About what, Wesley had never known. Though now he has a pretty good idea.

And Angel...since Spike’s appearance the day he had received the amulet, he had been changing too. Becoming more and more difficult to read, taking a hard line in firm dealings, meeting with Gunn and Eve in private.

Within moments of Eve and Gunn disappearing, the shadows had begun moving again. Wesley had swung Fred into his arms and run like hell, crashing through the door she had keyed opened mere moments before. He hadn’t dared go to his Jeep, and he still wasn’t really sure how he had gotten them away, barely recalling flagging down the taxi and telling the driver to drive to the other end of the city. He had booked them into a motel for the night, knowing that neither of them could chance going to their homes.

They hadn’t stayed in that motel past that one night, of course, moving to another one last night, then this one. Whatever Wolfram and Hart are up to, it’s obvious they want Fred dead...or worse. That means they won’t just let them go. Wesley had managed to get in touch one of his underground contacts from the time he had been on his own and had found out that Lorne has disappeared and Wesley and Fred have prices on their heads. Wolfram and Hart wants them found...badly.

He just wishes they knew why.

“Wesley?”

At the sound of her voice, he looks down at her, seeing her eyes flutter open. She’s so pale, there in the moonlight across the bed they’re sharing.

“It’s all right,” he tells her softly. “We’re safe.”

“No, we’re not.”

And he knows she’s right. They won’t be safe until they figure out what’s happened.

“We’re alone again,” she continues. Both of them know what it’s like to have to go it solo, to deal with dangers without friends or family around. They know the crushing feeling of loneliness and fear.

“No...not alone. We’re together in this, Fred. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

Her hands come up to trace the features of his face, running over his lips as tears well in her eyes. Knowing this probably isn’t the place or the time but not caring anything except for the woman he’s holding in his arms, he leans forward to kiss her, meaning it to be nothing more than a seal of promise.

But in the moment their lips touch, the kiss immediately becomes more than what he intended. She clutches him closer as his hand winds up into her long hair. This isn’t the way either of them wanted this, but this is what they need at the moment, knowing full well that it might be the only chance they ever get. It isn’t slow, and it isn’t gentle. It’s intense and sudden and overshadowed by the darkness they know is searching for them. But for an all too brief moment, they allow themselves to get lost in each other, she forgetting Angelus’ violation of her in the way he fills her up, him driving away the pain of their mutual loss with each stroke.

Shaking, they collapse together, holding each other tightly. Then shadows slide past, cutting across them, separating them like a knife. Both of them lunge for the weapons they’ve kept close by for the last few nights and aim them at the door.

They stare into each other’s eyes in the moonlight, silently saying everything in the space of a moment that they have never been able to say before while another shadow appears before the window.

The moonlight vanishes.

© August 2003

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