Warped Reflection
Part Eleven: The Pleasant Side of Pain
by Ruth Quist

SUMMARY: What would happen if you looked in the mirror and you weren’t there?

RATING: FRT [V] [L] [A] [AU]

DISCLAIMERS: This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

SPOILERS: Spoilers for up to the end of Season 4 (In fact, it is assumed that you’ve seen Season 4. It will be hard to read this if you haven’t.). Minor spoilers for Season 5. Mostly related to characters introduced this season.

DISTRIBUTION: Please ask if you want it.

ASSUMPTIONS: (Spoiler warning!) They still haven’t explained how the Connor related mind wipe works. For the purposes of this fiction, it is assumed that all the events that happened are remembered exactly how they happened. Conner was simply edited from those memories. (i.e. Justine cut Wesley’s throat and he remembers that, but he doesn’t remember the baby being in his arms or her taking Conner.) As you can imagine, this leave’s weird gaps in everyone’s memory. People don’t question this because, as a part of the magical process to create the mind wipe, they were told not to question it. This also means that everyone’s emotional state is pretty much the same as it was before the mind wipe. Aren’t I nice to tell you? Now if Joss would just tell us!

In her hotel room, Willow sat on the floor in front of a map once again. Kennedy lay on the bed leaning on one arm with her other arm in a sling, and watched the powerful witch cast a locator spell. As the reddish sand whipped away in a swirl of wind, Willow looked eagerly on the map for Winston's location. But all the sand was gone. The spell had failed. Willow leaned back on her hands and looked at Kennedy with the disappointment clear on her face. "Drats! He must have some kind of block," Willow sighed, "I wonder if I could curse him with hives or something.

Kennedy smiled, "You might get the wrong Wyndam-Pryce."

Willow smiled wryly back, "Yeah, I suppose I might." She looked at the map and then back at Kennedy with a sudden thought, "Do you suppose Wesley's father has a block?"

Both women smiled mischievously at each other.

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Gunn stood in front of the furnace. He picked up the last of the videotapes and CDs on the cart and threw them into the miniature inferno. He shuffled the products around with a special metal rake to ensure they were all captured by the flames. Then, using the tool to slam closed the thick iron door, he watched through the small window as the last memories of the Hyperion were eaten up by the flames.

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Wesley sat at his desk after the interesting events in the reception area. He was still bemused by Buffy's and especially Faith's actions. He didn't really want his father hurt, but the man's complete disregard for everyone's safety at the Hyperion and then having the utter audacity to show up here to make demands, was like playing Russian roulette with five bullets in the chambers. His father was probably lucky Giles wasn't here today. Wesley thought Giles would have gladly provided the sixth bullet—and fired it too.

His cheek hurt. Damn it! Didn't he have enough people bashing up his body without his father joining in? He was starting to look like a poster child for domestic violence. He supposed he should ice it, but he'd practically have to take an ice bath to reach every bruise on his body.

Winston's walkie-talkie lay on the desk in front of him. He'd wondered about it ever since the events at the Hyperion. Exactly how had Winston known they were there? He could have had someone discretely stashed observing the entrance. In fact, that was the likely answer. However, what was 'firefly' and what did 'switch' mean? After his conversation with Willow last night, Wesley suspected it had something to do with the radio. He picked up a screwdriver and started to take it apart.

Fred stood outside Wesley's office. She took a deep breath, turned the knob and entered. Wesley was working on a piece of equipment at his desk. He looked up warily as she walked in. Fred said quietly, "Hi, Wesley."

He sighed, and shoved the radio parts away from him. "Can I help you, Fred?"

Fred thought she was ready for this conversation, but she wasn't. So she asked something different, "What did your sister say to you?"

He looked startled and then his face closed off into a mask, "What do you mean?"

Fred smiled slightly, "I was watchin' both of you. All that fidgeting and stuff. There was a pattern to it all. I couldn't decipher what you were sayin' and all, I mean, I could if I saw enough of it I suppose, but just seein' a few minutes of it wasn't enough to know more than you all were talking."

Wesley put his elbow on the desk and propped up his chin with his fist, "You were watching? I should have known you'd recognize it for what it was. I might have thought twice about doing it if I'd known you were there." He deliberated for a second and then said, "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"Course not," she said indignantly. "I wouldn't tell anybody something like that."

Wesley sat back and interlaced his fingers, "I didn't think you would. You do realize you're the first person to figure it out?"

"Really?" Fred was surprised. "I thought the repeating patterns were pretty obvious once you took in to account the whole kinesic realm and eliminated adaptors."

Wesley laughed despite himself, "Only to you, Fred. Only to you. Do you want me to tell you about it?"

Fred promptly sat down and leaned forward in eager curiosity.

Wesley said reflectively, "Well, it started when we were children. As you may have gathered, father was extremely strict. Sometimes Mary or I would know something that would help keep the other out of trouble, but it was difficult to share such information with father breathing down our necks. While reading about various forms of communication, I discovered an obscure reference to the now extinct Kalik demon whose sole form of communication was an equally extinct body language. I tried to learn more about it but there really wasn't any more information available. But it did give me an idea."

Fred said excitedly, "You created your own body language."

Wesley smiled, "Quite right. I talked to Mary and together we developed signals so we could talk under father's very nose. Over time, the language became extraordinarily sophisticated. Of course, father often complained that we couldn't seem to stand still. That alone got us in trouble numerous times. However, it was worth it to have something beyond father's control. Anyway, it couldn't hurt his opinion of me or Mary in any way."

Fred asked, "How old were both of you when you made up the language?"

Wesley considered for a moment, "Hmm, I must have been seven or so. That would make Mary fourteen or fifteen."

"So, what did she say today?" Fred queried.

Wesley replied, "She said she was coming back later tonight, alone. She wants to talk to me. It should prove interesting to discover father's plans from one of his people. "

"You think she'll tell you what he's going to do? Fred asked.

"I think she'll tell me what she knows. Whether he's bothered to share his plans with her is another story," Wesley absently rubbed his now purpling bruise on his cheek.

Fred changed the subject again, "You knew Winston had a soul before we went to the Hyperion, didn't you?"

Wesley spoke abruptly, "Yes. He said something about it when he attacked me at my apartment and later, Angel confirmed it."

Fred said softly, "It must be hard dealing with all this?"

Wesley was brusque, "Look, Fred, thank you for your concern, but I'm all right." He looked down at the radio and said, "I've really got a lot to do. So, I'll see you later, shall I?"

Fred finally got up the courage to say what she had come there to say, "I'd like to finish the conversation we had on the roof."

Wesley's tightened his jaw in anger, "I told you that conversation was over."

"No!" Fred cried, "You said you didn't have anything else to say. But I do!"

Wesley got up and moved to the window. She couldn't see his face, but his back was stiff with tension, "Fine. Say what you have to say and then leave me alone."

She moved over to the window and put her hand hesitantly on his back. His muscles twitched involuntarily at the touch, but he didn't move away. Fred said tenderly, "I-I love you, Wesley."

Wesley turned at her words, his face filled with patent disbelief and he said firmly, "That's not true, Fred."

"Wesley!" she exclaimed.

Wesley looked straight into her eyes, "Don't feel like you have to tell me what you think I want to hear. I can take the truth. I prefer the truth!"

Fred threw her hands up in disgust, "What exactly is the truth, Wesley. You keep telling me you know how I feel and what I want to say. Why don't you listen, and try believing what I tell you, instead of what you think I mean."

"I saw you with Knox," Wesley said abruptly. "You don't have to try to spare my feelings. You don't owe me anything. Whatever you think I've done for you didn't come with a price tag."

Fred's voice rose in anger, "Knox! Knox!! What does Knox have to do with this? You've done a hell of a lot for me, Wesley. But you're right. What you've done for me, what we do for each other, doesn't come with a price tag. All of us work with Angel for a reason that's priceless. But I'm not doing this out of pity or obligation or gratitude."

She poked her finger angrily into his chest with each of her next words, stabbing particularly hard as her raised voice emphasized specific words in each sentence, and backed up the startled Wesley with each stab:

"I (poke) love (poke) you (POKE) !

"I (poke) love (POKE) you (poke)!

"I (POKE) love (poke) you (poke)!

"I (POKE)... love (POKE) ... you (POKE)!

"Have you got it straight yet! From the horse's mouth no less!"

Wesley clutched her hand, gently brought it up to his mouth and kissed it, "It doesn't look like a horse's mouth to me," he murmured. He leaned over and kissed her while she stood stock still, shocked—and then she kissed him back.

Some time later, when they both came up for air, Wesley leaned back, "You know, between Winston, my father, Faith, and you, I'm gathering quite a collection of bruises," Wesley rubbed his chest ruefully. Fred quirked up an eyebrow and with a small sly smile said, "I'll just have to kiss and make them better, won't I." Both Wesley's eyebrows went up in surprise and then he smiled too.

Angel knew he needed to talk to Wesley. The shame Angel felt, when talking with Wesley's father, grew when he found out Wesley thought he deserved it when Angel tried to smother him with a pillow. That, plus the whole conversation about Wesley not caring enough to do the uninvite ceremony told Angel they needed to have a talk. He didn't know how he could do it without talking about Connor, but he needed to try. Angel was afraid Wesley had a death wish.

Angel went to Wesley's office and stood there for a moment preparing to take the plunge. Finally, he opened the door and started to walk in—when he saw Wesley and Fred kissing passionately. Wesley was leaning back against the edge of the side of his desk with Fred comfortably folded into him. Her arms were wrapped around his neck. Angel stood there uncertainly as the pair carried on, evidently completely oblivious to his presence. He was wrong though. Just as he made up his mind to quietly back out, Fred, without looking, waved him out the door with one hand. Wesley was apparently still oblivious.

Angel smiled and backed out. Maybe talking to Wesley wasn't as urgent as he thought.

Wesley broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead against Fred's. They both were breathing hard. He smiled at Fred, who shyly smiled back, and he asked, "Is he gone?"

She replied softly, "Yes."

"Good," and he pulled her head close and kissed her passionately again.

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Wesley walked into Angel's office with a medium sized paper bag and a box filled with the parts of the disassembled walkie-talkie. Angel was sitting, looking utterly bored, and making minor corrections to one of the endless documents he saw each day. When Wesley walked in, Angel smiled delightedly and pushed away the paperwork, "I thought you'd be...I...uh...I thought you'd be busy the rest of the day?"

"Fred has some work to do and so do I," Wesley said blandly. "She's coming with me to meet my sister tonight though. Shall I give you a full report tomorrow?"

Angel shook his head 'no' with amusement, "I'm just happy for the two of you, Wes."

Wesley smiled widely, "So am I actually."

Angel looked at the box, "So, what you got there?"

Wesley put the box down, pulled a small device out from it, and held it out for Angel's inspection, "This is a tracer, a tracking device that was inside the radio Winston left for us to find. It ran off the batteries for the radio and only ran when the radio was on."

Angel took the small traitorous piece of electronics, looked at it closely, and then gripped it tightly in his fist, "So that's how Winston knew we were there."

"Most probably," Wesley agreed. "I started to get concerned after I spoke to Willow about the events as they transpired in the van. She was convinced there was a connection to their sudden loss of Winston's radio transmissions and the unexplained secret code we heard before we went in. I decided that finding the radio was altogether too convenient and so I took it apart.

"Okay," Angel said decisively, "so he can't use that against us again. Is there some way we could use this against him?"

"I suspect not. Not that we couldn't try," Wesley replied, "but he's likely to be leery of us figuring this out and therefore avoid using it twice." Wesley walked over to the window abruptly and looked out, "I need to show you something, Angel. Do you have some time?" He looked back at Angel and pointed around the room and then to his ear. The message was clear, 'The room is bugged."

Angel bounced the tracer in his hand a couple of times, "Sure, Wes. Let's go."

Angel stood beside the car in the middle of the field. His arms were extended out to his sides and his face was raised to the two suns as he basked in the warmth and fresh air. Wesley, with his arms crossed, leaned casually against the car. He smiled indulgently as he watched Angel.

"I still can't believe you brought me all the way here to have a talk!" Angel exclaimed with a grin. The grin faltered as he had a thought, "You're sure you know how to get back?"

"Yes, Angel, I knew how to get here and I know how to get back," Wesley stood up, picked up the paper bag he'd brought, and moved over to a grassy knoll topped by a small stand of trees some distance away from the car and overlooking the landscape. Angel followed, still looking around with interest at the sun drenched, flower speckled meadow. As they settled on the grass, Wesley opened the sack and pulled out two beers similar to the ones they'd had on the night Angel talked to Wesley in the Wolfram and Hart guest quarters.

"We're having a beer," Angel asked in disbelief. "You brought me all the way to Pylea just to drink beer?"

"I needed a place where it was unlikely for Wolfram and Hart to be able to overhear our conversation. You have to admit, Pylea certainly fits the bill." Wesley eyed Angel carefully before continuing, "Also, you've looked very ill at ease lately in your new role as CEO. You've let them bog you down so much in paperwork that I think it has made you uncomfortable generally. I thought you might appreciate spending an hour or so in a place where you can relax a little and enjoy the sunshine and open air."

"Your right," Angel said thoughtfully, "I have let them set the agenda. I look at so many papers, sometimes I just want to sign them all or pitch them in the trash. Just to get rid of them."

Wesley spoke with mock seriousness, "Of the two choices, I recommend pitching them. If nothing else, it would be fun watching Eve go spare." Both men chuckled at the image of a frustrated and angry Eve for a moment.

Wesley smiled at Angel, "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you as happy as you were when we first came here and you realized you weren't going to burn up from the sun." He looked briefly at the pair of suns and corrected himself, "suns." His face grew more reflective, "Except, of course, when you took care of..."

Wesley stopped suddenly, his face went completely and frighteningly blank for a few seconds.

"Wes?" Angel leaned forward urgently.

Wes shook his head confusedly, "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

Angel had held his unneeded breath at what was undoubtedly Wesley's sentence, ' when you took care of Connor .' Angel steered the conversation onto safer ground, "You were telling me why you brought me here."

Wesley's face cleared and he continued without any sign of concern, "Oh, right."

Angel forced his scattered thoughts to still themselves and listened carefully.

Wesley set the bottles on the grass between them. "I slept in one of Wolfram and Hart's guest rooms last night at Fred and Faith's behest. They were quite...adamant about it." Wesley raised one eyebrow sardonically and Angel grinned again. "Anyway, several of these bottles were sitting on top of the refrigerator in the kitchenette."

"This is a message, Angel." Wesley plucked up one bottle and displayed the label. It read Pitfield Brewery, Dark Star Ale. "Are you aware of how much effort it must have taken them to discover that I used to go down to London and would occasionally get something from Pitfield's off-license? I always used cash back then and never took the ale back to the academy. I didn't really have many friends back then and certainly no one who might know about this. I didn't even decide to stay in either guest room upstairs until ten minutes before I got there. I checked all the guest quarters today. None of them normally stock either Hoxton's Best or Dark Star. Someone put this unique imported beer, that I like, in the room and must have overheard our conversation in order to know that I prefer it at room temperature."

Wesley paused a second, looked down at the bottle and then back up at Angel, "This is the forces behind Wolfram and Hart telling us they know everything. That we can't have any secrets." Angel looked away guiltily at that as Wesley continued, "This is like having a stalker with unlimited resources and patience. Some day we'll wake up and find them in our house—figuratively speaking."

Angel picked up his beer to look at it thoughtfully, "You think we're under surveillance."

Wesley leaned forward resolutely, "I think they're constantly watching and waiting and planning for the moment when our guard is down or we're in a hurry—and they'll be ready—and we won't." He then relaxed a little, opened the beer and leaned back on one arm while he drank.

Angel opened his beer and drank too. He mulled over Wesley's words awhile and then said, "There isn't much we can do about it."

"Nothing except know the truth and stay on guard," Wesley admitted. "My father was inexcusably wrong about many things, reensouling Winston, allowing his soul to suffer this way is the worst. However, my father was right about one thing. The Wolfram and Hart people will never really be on our side. Danvers was just one of the more obvious examples. We can never really afford to trust any of them."

Angel looked down at the beer and said carefully, "Your father was right about something else too, Wesley. You didn't deserve me trying to smother you with a pillow in the hospital. I had a right to be angry, but I knew, even then, that you were trying to do the right thing."

Angel looked out across the beautiful pasture, but his eyes were unfocused, and saw, felt the smothering oppression of the overwhelmingly dark, frigid ocean surrounding him again, "When C...Justine dropped me into the middle of the Pacific, I knew... I absolutely knew ... I was never coming out. Who was ever going to find me there? I nearly went crazy down there and you saved me. I was delusional a lot. But it all seemed so real in a crazy kind of way." Angel's voice sounded flat, dead, "It was all crazy, but there was a truth in it too. I could have , or any of you. You were right to worry. Everything you tried to prevent could have happened. I didn't want to believe I could kill...someone I loved, but I was wrong."

Angel paused, took a drink, and then looked met Wesley's eyes squarely, "I don't think you believed me when I said as far as I was concerned we were good."

Wesley looked at his friend's face searchingly and then dropped his eyes, "I guess by then I'd learned my place in the scheme of things."

Angel asked quietly, "What place is that?"

Wesley replied quiet, "That I could be needed without being wanted. That I have a job to do and I have to do it regardless of how others feel about me. That pleasing others is not my job." He met Angel's gaze again, "I've always had an overwhelming need to please others. Undoubtedly, a remnant of my endless futile attempts in childhood to please my father. I could never get approval from him, so I looked for it from others. I'm sure you were aware that I sort of...looked up to you when you first employed me. I wanted...needed your approval because I respected you and therefore, I wanted to be respected by you. But I can't afford to be in this business because of hero worship. I have to do the right thing because it's the right thing, and no other reason." Wesley paused to gather his thoughts.

"You are wanted, Wes, "Angel said softly, "and needed."

Wesley blinked rapidly for a few seconds, and then said, "After I pulled you out of the ocean...well, I wasn't ready. We weren't good then, Angel." Wesley's eyes reflected his sincerity, "I think we are now."

"I'm sorry, Wes."

"I'm sorry too, Angel"

The two men sat together in companionable silence, just enjoying the peaceful surroundings, sharing the warm sunshine and the wind flowing gently through the tall grass. They slowly sipped their beers.

Angel, without looking at Wesley, said suddenly, "Hero worship, huh?"

"Yes, Angel," Wesley didn't look at Angel either. "It was a long time ago."

Angel sat still for little longer and then said, "Thanks, anyway."

Wesley smiled a little, "You're welcome."

They sat quietly for a while again.

Wesley took another drink and exclaimed softly, "This is really good!"

Angel looked around enjoying the sunshine and had a drink too, "Yeah, it's all good."

The car sped through the swirling portal and the hole closed quickly after them. From behind the trees on the grassy knoll, a purple faced priest with facial tattoos stepped out and smiled. He didn't know how the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart had known of this meeting in this place and he didn't know how valuable the information was, but he was glad to tell them the result. After all, any friend of the princess cow was an enemy of the priesthood of the Covenent of Trombli. He moved rapidly towards the castle in happy anticipation of secrets to tell.

© November 2004

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