Last Breath
(implied character death)
Wesley's lost it all. And even so, one thing -- one person -- manages to give him hope as he passes.
Awkward.
Being stabbed... was really quite different from having one's throat slit, or being throttled, or suffocated under a pillow. He honestly didn't know how many times Angel, or Spike for that matter, had had their bodies pierced by metal variants, and could still stand it to this day. Only earlier today... or possibly last night, he wasn't quite sure when anymore as time was beginning to meld to itself... Angel had been shot with a metal-tipped dart from his crossbow. And he'd barely flinched.
Well. As mentioned before. Being stabbed in the gut was normally quite different from all other forms of pain. For one thing - this wound was mortal. It had gone right throw his stomach, and possibly a few intestines. There was no possible way to stop this.
He was somewhat surprised that Illyria had come for him. That she had known where to find him at all.
That she had cared.
Perhaps all that time invested in her had resulted well after all.
Illyria was enigmatic. He had never fully understood her, and unfortunately, he never would. It had taken him but a few mere seconds to decide that he hated this woman, this... creature... for taking the life of his beloved Fred. His misery had overpowered his thinking. His life's mission didn't seem quite so important, when Fred would not be there with him along the way.
Of course, he knew it was inevitable. The way certain things had played out over this year, ever since they had come to Wolfram and Hart, had made it painfully obvious that none of them would come out of this unscathed.
But Illyria had appealed to him, somehow. In a world where her order was no longer the ruling power, she was alone... missionless. She had no where to go.
Fred would have wanted him to help her. This ancient... deity, who had stolen his love's life and body... Fred would have wanted him to help.
It really was the least he could do.
And so... he'd helped. He'd shown Illyria the world as it was now, marveled over her almost frighteningly correct perceptions, patiently explained the simplest things to her (and on the rare occasion, allowed her to pummel Spike. Or Angel. But mostly Spike.)
He'd managed it. He'd taught her to care.
And now, she offered him his lie.
And never had he seen a more beautiful truth. Because no matter what had occurred in the past, no matter how unfair he felt Fred's sacrifice was, this body no longer belonged to Winifred Burkle. Winifred Burkle was dead and gone.
And soon, he'd be with her again.