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Wesley knew he was heading towards his death when he was sent to Cyvus Vail's lair. He saw the glint of regret and profound sadness within Angel's eyes before they all headed out for their battles. It was unfair, he supposed, that Angel gave him the toughest fight for a human. However, it gave him that sense of warmth and belonging he thought he could never feel again, because it meant that Angel trusted him enough to entrust him with this heavy responsibility.
Even after what happened with Connor.
The moment the fight with Vail started, he already knew he would lose. His only glimmer of hope was that Illyria would dash in through those doors and save him from the fate of death, like he would for Fred.
Oh, Fred. His heart was torn into shreds after the recent events, in which he knew he could not put himself back together again. He wanted to be her shining white knight that saved her from all the evil people. That prolonged agony he experienced while sitting beside her, hearing her gasp in pain and suffering, those long nights with the self-obsessed goddess who took over the body of the woman he loved (sweet, sweet Fred) – he just wanted it all to end.
Using that last burst of sorcery, he managed to hurl Vail back to the far end into unconsciousness, but he knew his wound was fatal and he was going to die. At that instant, Illyria came through those doors, wearing the face of his beloved Fred. She caught him before he fell, uttering a concerned, "Wesley."
He felt cold all over, but the presence of Illyria – no, his sweet Fred – gave him warmth that lingered and spread throughout his entire system.
"This wound is mortal," Illyria stated almost casually, as Wesley made a feeble attempt to apply pressure to the oozing wound with his hand. His dry wit resurfaced as he retorted softly, "Aren't we all?" Wesley smiled at her faintly, looking at the woman he once loved. Despite the obvious appearance of Illyria that made Wesley know that she was not Fred, he still sensed fragments of Fred buried deep within this... shell.
"It was good... that you came."
Illyria regarded him with the same coolness that would never be part of Fred, "I killed all mine. And I was..." She looked away, thinking of a human word to describe what she was supposedly feeling.
The warmth that lingered in his broken body and soul was threatening to take over. Illyria... the legendary Old One... was feeling a typically human emotion for him. Or was it Fred? "Concerned?" he supplied, wheezing with pain.
The Old One turned her head back to face Wesley with an unreadable expression, "I think so." For that few moments, Wesley thought of Fred. Her bright smiles that lit up his world, her ramblings that amused him, reminding him of his young self, and oh, the curiosity that he almost, almost hate her for.
"But I can't help. You'll be dead within moments," Illyria continued nonchalantly, like describing the weather, but Wesley could recognise the slight lilt in her tone that suggested some form of sorrow, like the one she felt when she realised her empire was gone. Like when Wesley realised his world had just... faded away when he knew Fred's soul was destroyed resurrecting Illyria.
Wesley almost laughed at her lack of tact, wondering what Fred would have said in her place. "I know," he responded with mixed emotions, knowing that he would not be able to help in this concluding battle, but at the very least, he can finally... let go.
"Would you like me to lie to you now?" Illyria's question had caught him by surprise, as he never knew that the offer would still stand despite what he had told her previously. He marvelled at the fact that his tears never came, even in the face of death. One of the rules of being a Watcher was never to allow emotions to interfere with anything. In addition, as what he had said to Illyria earlier on, another important rule was to be able to differentiate between illusions and reality. He had long since suppressed those tears to the point that they can never bother him anymore, except when he permitted himself the luxury of tears when he knew he lost his anchor to life itself – Fred.
The young ex-Watcher gazed at her weakly, answering with a strong "Yes." He closed his eyes for a short, excruciating moment, thinking of how he was going to defy everything he had believed in, just to allow himself to say goodbye to the woman he loved. "Thank you. Yes." He watched as the blue tint in her body faded away, leaving behind the flawless, petite Fred before him. He watched as the tears naturally springing up in her eyes, like how he had reacted in those last few moments of agony with his Fred. Illyria's – no, it was Fred now- hand reached to stroke Wesley's face tenderly.
"Hello there," Wesley said softly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. His Fred. How he had missed her, so very much. Fred tried to smile through her tears, replying almost remorsefully, "Oh Wesley. My Wesley." His hand reached out for her hair, her face, almost as if he was trying to comfort her and not the other way round. That soft wavy hair and that perfect smile.
"Fred," Wesley whispered wistfully, staring longingly at the brave woman who had died in his arms not so long ago. "I've missed you." Fred looked at him lovingly in return, pausing to kiss his lips twice, stifling a sob, and then kissing his forehead with pure affection. Wesley breathed in deeply, that scent of innocence that he no longer possessed, all from the sweet, sweet Fred who was so courageous and painfully naive even till the end. He yearned to kiss her back with fervour, to remind her and himself of how much he loved her, even before he met her. His will, no matter how strong, was useless against the darkness that was already overwhelming him. His body refused to move – oh how he wished he could just touch that face for that one last time, kiss her back to convey just how much he really loved her and how lost he felt without her.
"It's gonna be okay," Fred started, caressing his cheek with chaste fondness. "It won't hurt much longer, and then you'll be where I am." His world was already dimming with urgency, as he fought as hard to catch Fred's words. "We'll be together."
Her words did not matter much longer as his eyes dulled and he gasped out the words that he needed to say to Fred, no matter how difficult it was for his wreaked body, "I—I love you." So very much, that it hurts.
His world was spinning.
He remembered the first time his father threw him into the dark, very dark cupboard because he spilled tea onto the carpet when he was six. He remembered every punishment he had received from his father due to his incompetence. He remembered his self-loathing, the emotional and physical pain he would inflict upon himself just to constantly remind himself that nobody loves him, even himself. He remembered his school days, the steady strings of indifferent praises he hear from his professors that did not matter. He remembered the bullying he had endured in school, the hiding places. He remembered how being the head boy did not matter in anyone's eyes, even his father's. He remembered the torment he underwent in Sunnydale, how he always never measured up. He remembered the family he found in Los Angeles, with Cordelia and Angel. He remembered the brotherly moments with Gunn, the fun times with movies and games. He remembered how he betrayed Angel deeply by taking away Connor to safety. He remembered his helplessness when Justine slit his throat and Connor was taken away. He remembered how his supposed family turned away from him when he most needed their help. He remembered Angel trying to kill him. He remembered the "relationship" with Lilah. He remembered how Angelus taunted him. He remembered how the world did not matter anymore. He remembered taking over Wolfram and Hart. He remembered the times with Fred. He remembered Fred dying. He remembered everything. He remembered Angel's regret. He remembered dying.
Then... he remembered Fred. Her smiles, her hair, her touch, her ramblings, her accent, her curiosity, everything that made him remember her.
"Please, Wesley, why can't I stay?"
From a distance, he could hear a soft, lulling voice at the end of the light, murmuring, "I love you, my love. Oh, my love..."
And his whole world went dark.
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End.