posted by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cityphonelines at 10:36pm on 22/01/2009 under fic, fic:ats: formula for contrition (wesley)
cityphonelines at 10:36pm on 22/01/2009 under fic, fic:ats: formula for contrition (wesley)The Formula for Contrition
Rating: PG
Pairings: Nope, canon pairings are vaguely mentioned
Word count: 1,122
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
Spoilers through the end of AtS season 5
originally posted at winter_of_wes in 2005, just moving it here.
There was something to be said about reliving your life. Of course, that something was a string of words he’d rather not say in front of Cordelia; she’d be so proud and that just would not do.
At times he wonders why he was sent back and if the timeframe has significance. He has their future in his head, locked away and he can’t do a damn thing with it. Every time he tries to warn them of what’s to come his mind swirls and his mouth is forced to say he’s forgotten what it is he wanted to say. It’s driving him insane and unfortunately it isn’t a slow descent; this ride is running at a speeding pace.
There are no real changes; nothing that seems like it will make a difference. He wonders idly if his wardrobe matches to the day. He can’t tell with Angel, and Cordelia’s is as difficult to keep up with now as it was then. As far as he can tell the conversations are the same, he argues with Cordelia about Gunn’s possible employment, even though his mind knows that Gunn will shortly be in Angel’s employ full-time, despite his and Angel’s reservations. Frankly, though Gunn proved to be a magnificent ally as well as a great friend, he knows that stopping this now would save him from being shot later and prevent Fred’s soul from its fate. Just two things he’d rather not deal with again.
He’s well aware of what’s to come. It’s simply trapped inside him and, much like thumbing through the pages of these tomes as though he is lost, it’s not doing anybody any good. Because Drusilla will sire Darla and Angel will sleep with her. And he knows he will steal Connor away, just like he knows he will have his throat slit. At least he doesn’t have to relive the explosive loss of their first office.
He’s suddenly amazed he survived as long as he did. But that’s destiny isn’t it? It wasn’t his time until it was. Which does nothing to explain why he’s here again. Really it makes no sense.
When your mouth runs on, spouting repeated words without any genuine thought it gives you a chance to let your mind wander where it never did before; and that is exactly what Wesley does as the days go by. All the things he had to research and exposition before become autopilot actions and as long as his feet pace the floor in the same path his thoughts can go on as they please.
He pays more attention to Angel, not as a vampire or a Watcher’s Guide chapter or some predestined defender; but as a person. He feels pity for Angel in ways that his previous jealousies and idolizations never allowed.
Wesley’s reality goes by so fast. He is fired knowing that he will be rehired and then made leader. When they come back from Pylea he sees Fred’s infatuation with Angel and her complete adoration of Gunn with clear eyes, his handwritten translation still reads ‘the father will kill the son,’ and he knows Jasmine’s true face before Fred does. It all goes as it did before and any calm that his brain has during each battle means nothing, outwardly he panics in the same ways as before.
And still there is Lilah. He couldn’t love her or save her the first time around, yet he tries again in vain and for a brief period he muses over the fact that they share a scar, a mark, a thin line separating their minds from their bodies; a scar that will disappear from his throat.
Sometimes he feels ill.
Wesley wants to scream, he wants to rage or a least make a difference. He wants to tell Angel that they will lose the women that matter the most to them, that they will lose themselves, but in the end the vampire still signs their lives away; whether it be for the greater good, for selfishness or for misplaced faith. The reason never mattered, only the result; Connor is swept from the memories of his friends. But not his, no, this time he’s allowed to keep it all, he and Angel alone, yet they cannot share it with each other. Wesley’s mouth refuses to spill its secrets.
This time around he understands Spike’s sense of loss and Fred’s drive to aid the vampire, to find a place for him in her heart and in their lives. He sees Spike for what he is now and wishes he could be more for him on this turn. Another Englishman to pass the days with would be nice.
Shooting his father is easier the second time, though he slips away from the particulars and is nauseated to discover he can enjoy unloading the same bullets into his father’s image. It’s quite cleansing.
Fred’s passing is just as painful as it was the first time. To have her slip through his fingers once was devastating enough, but twice is fraying the last threads of rationale he has left. He does find Illyria far more intriguing than before and even sees beauty in her grotesque attempts to please him. Wesley has also decided that attacking Gunn still holds a beat of satisfaction and Gunn’s decision to place himself in Wolfram and Hart’s holding dimension is not atonement; it is simply a self serving act.
Wesley counts down the number of days until his death. He considers calling it a battle, however since the words are only in his head he’s decided to call it what it is and he’s looking forward to it. He still doesn’t understand why this is happening to him and the unwavering loop does not permit him to take his time as his own and research. He merely goes on as he has and when Vail’s dagger slides into him it is a relief. His request for Illyria’s false Fred sickens him.
The darkness is a brief comfort, but all too soon the colors churn and his focus becomes sharper. He recognizes Cordelia’s apartment, along with the spread of old photographs on the floor, and can feel the haze of Dennis’ presence. He and Cordelia proceed to unravel Angel’s mystery and he wants to weep for himself in frustration, yet instead he sifts through picture after picture as though it is the first time he’s seen them. Wesley is positive there has to be a purpose, a reason, and through each mockery of reincarnation he becomes increasingly determined to discover what exactly it is.
While he’s mourning Cordelia and Fred for the eleventh time it finally occurs to him that maybe he should have read the fine print on his standard perpetuity contract.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Nope, canon pairings are vaguely mentioned
Word count: 1,122
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
Spoilers through the end of AtS season 5
originally posted at winter_of_wes in 2005, just moving it here.
There was something to be said about reliving your life. Of course, that something was a string of words he’d rather not say in front of Cordelia; she’d be so proud and that just would not do.
At times he wonders why he was sent back and if the timeframe has significance. He has their future in his head, locked away and he can’t do a damn thing with it. Every time he tries to warn them of what’s to come his mind swirls and his mouth is forced to say he’s forgotten what it is he wanted to say. It’s driving him insane and unfortunately it isn’t a slow descent; this ride is running at a speeding pace.
There are no real changes; nothing that seems like it will make a difference. He wonders idly if his wardrobe matches to the day. He can’t tell with Angel, and Cordelia’s is as difficult to keep up with now as it was then. As far as he can tell the conversations are the same, he argues with Cordelia about Gunn’s possible employment, even though his mind knows that Gunn will shortly be in Angel’s employ full-time, despite his and Angel’s reservations. Frankly, though Gunn proved to be a magnificent ally as well as a great friend, he knows that stopping this now would save him from being shot later and prevent Fred’s soul from its fate. Just two things he’d rather not deal with again.
He’s well aware of what’s to come. It’s simply trapped inside him and, much like thumbing through the pages of these tomes as though he is lost, it’s not doing anybody any good. Because Drusilla will sire Darla and Angel will sleep with her. And he knows he will steal Connor away, just like he knows he will have his throat slit. At least he doesn’t have to relive the explosive loss of their first office.
He’s suddenly amazed he survived as long as he did. But that’s destiny isn’t it? It wasn’t his time until it was. Which does nothing to explain why he’s here again. Really it makes no sense.
When your mouth runs on, spouting repeated words without any genuine thought it gives you a chance to let your mind wander where it never did before; and that is exactly what Wesley does as the days go by. All the things he had to research and exposition before become autopilot actions and as long as his feet pace the floor in the same path his thoughts can go on as they please.
He pays more attention to Angel, not as a vampire or a Watcher’s Guide chapter or some predestined defender; but as a person. He feels pity for Angel in ways that his previous jealousies and idolizations never allowed.
Wesley’s reality goes by so fast. He is fired knowing that he will be rehired and then made leader. When they come back from Pylea he sees Fred’s infatuation with Angel and her complete adoration of Gunn with clear eyes, his handwritten translation still reads ‘the father will kill the son,’ and he knows Jasmine’s true face before Fred does. It all goes as it did before and any calm that his brain has during each battle means nothing, outwardly he panics in the same ways as before.
And still there is Lilah. He couldn’t love her or save her the first time around, yet he tries again in vain and for a brief period he muses over the fact that they share a scar, a mark, a thin line separating their minds from their bodies; a scar that will disappear from his throat.
Sometimes he feels ill.
Wesley wants to scream, he wants to rage or a least make a difference. He wants to tell Angel that they will lose the women that matter the most to them, that they will lose themselves, but in the end the vampire still signs their lives away; whether it be for the greater good, for selfishness or for misplaced faith. The reason never mattered, only the result; Connor is swept from the memories of his friends. But not his, no, this time he’s allowed to keep it all, he and Angel alone, yet they cannot share it with each other. Wesley’s mouth refuses to spill its secrets.
This time around he understands Spike’s sense of loss and Fred’s drive to aid the vampire, to find a place for him in her heart and in their lives. He sees Spike for what he is now and wishes he could be more for him on this turn. Another Englishman to pass the days with would be nice.
Shooting his father is easier the second time, though he slips away from the particulars and is nauseated to discover he can enjoy unloading the same bullets into his father’s image. It’s quite cleansing.
Fred’s passing is just as painful as it was the first time. To have her slip through his fingers once was devastating enough, but twice is fraying the last threads of rationale he has left. He does find Illyria far more intriguing than before and even sees beauty in her grotesque attempts to please him. Wesley has also decided that attacking Gunn still holds a beat of satisfaction and Gunn’s decision to place himself in Wolfram and Hart’s holding dimension is not atonement; it is simply a self serving act.
Wesley counts down the number of days until his death. He considers calling it a battle, however since the words are only in his head he’s decided to call it what it is and he’s looking forward to it. He still doesn’t understand why this is happening to him and the unwavering loop does not permit him to take his time as his own and research. He merely goes on as he has and when Vail’s dagger slides into him it is a relief. His request for Illyria’s false Fred sickens him.
The darkness is a brief comfort, but all too soon the colors churn and his focus becomes sharper. He recognizes Cordelia’s apartment, along with the spread of old photographs on the floor, and can feel the haze of Dennis’ presence. He and Cordelia proceed to unravel Angel’s mystery and he wants to weep for himself in frustration, yet instead he sifts through picture after picture as though it is the first time he’s seen them. Wesley is positive there has to be a purpose, a reason, and through each mockery of reincarnation he becomes increasingly determined to discover what exactly it is.
While he’s mourning Cordelia and Fred for the eleventh time it finally occurs to him that maybe he should have read the fine print on his standard perpetuity contract.
There are no comments on this entry.