Protocol, Part Twenty-One
Jun. 1st, 2004 10:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Previous parts can be found here.
PART TWENTY-ONE
Wesley recognized the feeling when he woke up.
Doom. Catastrophe. *Death*. It was there, lurking in the distance like a rhino priming for thundering attack.
Wesley sat up, taking stock of things. It was morning, but as always still dark save that of the firelight. Angel was there, fast asleep at his side. One arm was flung over Wesley's hip from when Angel had drifted off after sex. Wesley felt the weight of it balanced in the crook of his hip and his thigh. He wanted to touch it, but didn't dare to. His fingers were too cold, even to a vampire's skin.
He held his own hands then, clutching them and indulging himself in the comfort of that, since nothing else would do. It was getting closer now, and it was going to be horrible. The world was going to end. It was going to explode and he would feel every bit of it. Moreover, it would be his fault.
He pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to remember the calming exercises Lorne had taught him. But soothing words quickly faded in the shadow of what was coming. He couldn't remember, and that was a failure on his part, but he *had* to remember because it was morning and there was work to do and -
Wesley swallowed a gasp of pain. It felt as though a sword had sliced through his chest. The sensation faded, but he knew it would come again. It *always* came again. It would come, and keep coming, and not stop until it killed him.
He looked at Angel. He *longed* for Angel. The vampire was a Champion. He protected the weak. Surely he would protect Wesley, if there was such a challenge?
But to ask such a thing was forbidden. To even *hint* it was unthinkable. He was spouse. He was not allowed to want, or to ask.
Wesley crawled out of bed, removing himself from the temptation. It was early. Perhaps he could handle it. He could find somewhere safe, and hide, and come back before anyone had noticed. He could lie and say he'd been working. That was allowable, right?
Wesley slipped his robe on, then quietly left the room. He forced his steps to be steady. This was not the time to trip and make noise. The journey was hard, however. The walls closed in on him, and his perspective was off, and it was *there*, right *there*, waiting to snatch him away.
Wesley pressed a hand to his chest, then looked around wildly. Doors only led to places with more shadows. Hiding under desks meant being beaten. Everything else was so open, so easy to find him and attack.
But that was pointless, wasn't it? For here it was, clutching at his lungs. Wesley wheezed, feeling pain lance through his heart and through his arm. He fell to his knees, tears blurring his eyes. It *hurt*. It hurt like it never did before. It hurt like punishment, like hatred, like *death* and he *couldn't stop it*.
There was a wall. Somehow there was a wall behind him and to his side. Wesley scuttled into it, crablike, then curled into it as tightly as he could. His mind swam, his ribs were shards of iron, and the hand of God himself was crushing Wesley's heart into oblivion.
He sobbed, the humiliation of crying long forgotten in the unrelenting fear that this might never stop - and the absolute terror that it would.
***
Connor's voice woke him up.
"Dad!"
Angel was out of the bed like a shot, robe thrown on in a move of sheer habit that in no way slowed him down as he answered his son's cry for help.
"What is it?" he asked, seeing Connor before anything else, and allowing himself the half-second of relief that his child was alive and in once piece.
And then he saw Wesley.
"What happened?" Angel asked, coming over to the corner and kneeling down beside the both of them.
"He was like this when I came in," Connor said.
Angel's senses quickly took in the symptoms - Wes was red-faced, choking, his heartbeat constricted, and he was apparently unaware of anything going on around him. "Get Willow," Angel said. "Get her *now*."
Connor was off in a blur that only a vampire could have tracked. The outer door slammed behind him in his passing. Wes flinched, giving Angel hope that maybe he wasn't totally far gone.
"Wes?" Angel came closer, reaching out to touch Wesley's arm. "Wes, can you hear me?"
No response. If anything, Wes became worse. His breathing was thin, and tight sounds of pain were escaping him.
"We heard shouts," Xander's voice came from the doorway. "Everything okay?"
"Something's wrong with Wes," Angel said. He sat down, trying to draw Wesley to him. Wes offered no resistance, but didn't help either.
"Christ," Spike said, his blue eyes taking it all in. "Heart's not doing good."
"No kidding," Angel said, knowing Spike could withstand a little snappishness at a time like this.
Spike sniffed. "Fear's pouring off him too."
"You'd freak too if you were having a heart attack," Xander said.
"It's not a heart attack," Angel said. "He's too young."
"Happens to the best of us," Xander said, without rancor. He squatted down, trying to catch Wesley's eye. "Wes? Buddy? C'mon, try to breathe for us. I know it's not the same air as you get back home but I promise we've got easily twice as much of that yummy pollution."
There was a twitch, which might have been Wes nearly laughing, but then a spasm soon followed and he was crying out in pain.
Angel shivered. He'd *never* known Wes to acknowledge a hurt like that. "Where the fuck is - "
"Here, here," Willow said, running in with Connor right behind her. "Sorry, there were things and supplies and - "
"Fix him," Angel said.
"Do my best," Willow told him. She then grabbed Xander by the hair, tugging him out of the way. "Okay, guys? He can't breathe, so maybe you crowding and *blocking* the air around him isn't a fat lot of help?"
"Ow," Xander said, but he let himself be moved, going to stand by Spike and Connor.
Willow sat down in Xander's place. She squinted as she studied the situation. "Can we move him?"
"Haven't tried," Angel said.
"He's curled up, say the body's got good reason," Spike offered.
"Wes?" Willow patted Wesley's hand, trying to draw his attention. "Wesley? Can you talk or grunt or something?"
"I - " Wes managed, but then lost it in rapid gasps that Angel knew weren't nearly giving him the oxygen he needed.
Willow remained calm. "I is good. Syllables are good. It's a great start. Now can you help me narrow down what this is? Is there a potion or a spell that I could do?"
Wesley shook his head, twisting in Angel's arms. "No - *no* - "
"I think he's still talking to me," Willow said. She tried again. "Okay, how about symptoms? Can you tell me what's wrong?"
"No," Wesley said, his face pinched so tight that he might have been addressing his demons as much as anyone around him. "No - nothing. There's nothing."
"Busiest amount of nothing I've ever seen," Xander said.
It was Connor who got it. "Dad, get out of here."
"I'm not leaving him," Angel said.
Connor came forward. "Dad, you *have* to leave. It's the rules. He can't complain or ask for anything as long as you're around, remember?"
"You are - " Angel gaped, then appealed to anyone with a possible answer. "Are you *shitting* me with this?"
"Sounds like your boy," Spike said.
"He would rather *die* than break a rule of protocol?" Angel demanded.
"Angel," Xander said, nodding his head towards the bedroom. "Maybe you want to argue that with him *after* we get him past the actual dying part?"
"Oh for fuck's sake," Angel said. He began to untangle himself from Wes. "Okay, but I'm only going in the other room and - "
"No."
Angel stopped. Wes's hand had grabbed hold of his, and was clutching it hard enough to hurt even a vampire's body.
"Please," Wes said, softly. "Don't go."
And as Wes had never spontaneously asked him for anything *ever*, Angel immediately sat right back down.
"Fix him," he told Willow. "Make him better even with me here."
"But I don't know what's wrong," Willow said.
"Could you order him to tell?" Spike asked.
Angel shook his head. "Doesn't work. All he can do is hint, or say facts."
"That's something," Connor said. "Maybe if he can't complain about what it is, he could tell us what it isn't?"
"I vote we automatically rule out anything involving miscarriage or pregnancy," Xander said.
Spike crooked an eyebrow at him. "With *our* local demon population?"
"It's not his stomach, it's his chest," Angel said. He closed his eyes, listening to what Wes's body told him. He could practically feel the sick thudding of Wesley's pulse. "Wes, *is* this some kind of heart attack?"
"No," Wes said. His body spasmed again, and Angel could sense the fear ratcheting higher.
Which was when Angel got it. "Sedate him."
"Is that safe?" Willow asked. "I mean if his heart's all kerflooey - "
"It's what he needs," Angel said. "Sedate him. Trust me."
Willow rummaged in her bag. "Think we can get him to drink?"
"He will if I tell him to," Angel said.
A potion reeking of flowers and bitter herbs appeared. Willow poured a dose of it into a glass of water that Connor provided. Angel held Wes's head back, and guided him as he swallowed all of it down.
Soon enough the medicine went to work, and Wes sagged against Angel's body, finally asleep.
"Well," Xander said. "That's certainly a way to shake up the morning doldrums."
"He gonna be okay?" Connor asked.
"He's fine," Angel said, speaking only of the present since even he wasn't so sure about the future.
"I could leave you some of this if he needs more," Willow said, holding up the bottle.
"Yeah, thanks," Angel said. He rubbed Wes's back, finally relaxing himself as Wes's heartbeat returned to normal.
"Need some time with your boy?" Spike asked.
Angel nodded. "Probably all day. Or at least the morning. Shouldn't be too much. Just some meetings. Do you mind?"
Spike waved it off. "'s what I'm here for. Don't mention it."
"Yeah," Xander said, following Spike out the door, "because then everybody would know you're not the big bad so much as the widdle fluffy puppy."
"*You* can bite me," Spike told him.
"I would except Angel said you had to take over his meetings," Xander retorted. Then, inspired, "Hey, think we can christen his desk?"
"What?" Spike asked. "Again?"
Connor mercifully distracted Angel from the fading conversation. "Seriously, is he gonna be all right?"
"I'll take care of him," Angel said.
Connor seemed to worry that over. "Dad… I don't think he's happy here."
Angel looked up at him. "What do you mean?"
"He's quiet, and tense," Connor said. "And yesterday it was like he didn't want to come back inside."
"It's true," Willow said, zippering her bag up again. "It wasn't like trying to get a cat to go to the vet, but he wasn't exactly singing and dancing about it either."
Angel mulled that over.
"He likes you though," Connor offered. "He talks about you a lot."
Angel ran his fingers through Wes's hair. "Guys? Can I be alone with him? I think this is now husband/spouse-y stuff."
"Sure," Willow said. She smiled at Connor. "C'mon. I'll let you play with the magic stuff your dad doesn't want you knowing about."
Connor frowned at her. "But I *hate* magic stuff."
"Thus allowing me the cool bonus points of offering without actually getting me in trouble," Willow pointed out. "Pretty crafty, huh?"
"Let's get breakfast," Connor told her. He faced Angel again. "Dad? You want anything?"
Angel shook his head, not looking up from Wes's sleeping form. "Nah. We're good."
***
Angel had time to shower and dress before Wes woke up. He was on the bed where Angel had left him, but he was sitting up with his back firmly against the headboard and his hands primly folded in his lap. The robe was partially open, and looked incongruous against his formal posture.
"I'm very sorry, my Lord," Wes said, not looking up as he recited what was obviously a speech. "That display was vulgar, and beneath your worth, and I shall accept whatever punishment you are kind enough to give me."
Angel sat down on the edge of the bed, close, but keeping enough distance for conversation. "I'm not going to punish you."
There was a tiny flinch, almost small enough to be a trick of the firelight, before Wes nodded as though he'd expected that. "I'll pack my things then, my Lord. I'm sorry."
Angel frowned. "Why are you packing?"
Now Wes looked up. "To go back to the Council?"
"Are you supposed to?" Angel asked.
"I failed," Wesley said. "I could not adhere to the rules of protocol. I don't *deserve* to be your spouse anymore."
"I'm not losing you," Angel said.
"They'll send a replacement," Wes told him.
"I'm not losing *you*," Angel repeated.
Wes looked as though he didn't know what to make of that. "My Lord, I am flawed."
"*Good*," Angel said. "I can't stand people who are perfect. Besides, that doesn't go well for me."
"My Lord," Wesley said, "the rules demand - "
"Wes, if this is about you asking me to stay by your side you may actually see me get very pissed off," Angel warned him.
Wes shrunk back. "It isn't - my Lord, I - I meant all of it."
"You should be punished for all of it?" Angel repeated.
Wes nodded. "Yes, my Lord. What you saw of me this morning was - was weakness, and failure, and proves that I am not worthy of you."
"I don't think it's your place to decide if you're worthy of me," Angel told him.
"I'm sorry, my Lord," Wes said. He looked down at his hands, his fingers knitting together and pulling apart. Then, possibly trying to guess what was making Angel upset, he offered, "I could remain to train the new person, my Lord. I - I haven't done much, but if that is your concern - "
"How long have you been having panic attacks?" Angel asked.
Wes got quiet again.
"How long?" Angel asked.
Wes's hands were finally still. "Years, my Lord," he said, his voice soft enough that only a vampire could have heard it.
"Well, that narrows your age down a bit," Angel said.
Wes looked up, puzzled. "My Lord?"
"Never mind," Angel told him. "So you've been having them for a while?"
Wes looked down again. "Yes, my Lord."
"The Council know about this?"
"Yes, my Lord."
Angel debated his next question carefully. "Is that part of why they sent you to me?"
"It is part of why I was considered inferior to my peers, my Lord," Wes told him. "I don't - "
"Don't what?" Angel asked, when Wes cut himself off.
Wes shook his head. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I was disobeying by saying things you had not asked me to say."
"Assume I asked you to say them," Angel said.
Wes was quiet for a long while.
"Wes?"
"You can negotiate for more," Wes said, still speaking only in a whisper. "The Council was aware of my inadequacies. You could humiliate them in the public arena with that information. You can get a better deal. They might even give up some of their power to you, in order to save face."
"So I publicly humiliate *you* in order to get more power," Angel said.
"The Council, my Lord."
"By telling the entire world that you weren't good enough," Angel said.
Wes's fingers kneaded themselves into the blanket. "That knowledge will be public regardless of your actions, my Lord."
"Does the Council know what happened today?" Angel asked.
"I don't know, my Lord," Wes admitted.
"If they know, will they force me to give you up?"
"They cannot force you to do anything, my Lord," Wesley told him.
"Do you *want* to go home?" Angel asked.
The fire popped and flared brighter as Wes remained silent.
"Wesley?"
"It is not up to me, my Lord," Wesley said.
"I'm asking you," Angel told him.
"It is not up to me to decide, my Lord," Wesley said.
"Connor says you're not happy here."
Wes's head jerked up. "My Lord, that isn't true - " then, just as rapidly as he denied it, Wesley flinched and pulled back, fear shaping his face. "I - I'm sorry, my Lord. It was not my intention to - I'm sorry."
Angel longed to grab Wes and haul him back, but he knew that he couldn't. This had to be *Wes's* decision. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"But I *failed*," Wesley said.
Angel zeroed in on the cracks forming in Wes's façade. "Why do you think I'm going to hurt you?"
"Because - " Wes faltered " - because I failed."
"You say that word a lot," Angel said.
"It's what I am," Wesley said.
"No," Angel said. "You're a spouse. You're *my* spouse. That's the only thing that matters."
"My Lord, *no* spouse can do what I've done and get away with it," Wes insisted.
"What? Have a panic attack?" Angel asked. Then, honestly curious, "Wes, did nobody ever tell you that those aren't your fault?"
Wes's lack of an immediate response told Angel far more than Wes's actual words ever could. "I'll keep having them. I try, but I can't stop having them. My Lord, I'm *sorry* but I am broken and flawed."
"Wesley, I am a *vampire*," Angel said. "You think you really get to win the broken and flawed sweepstakes here?"
"You're my - " Wes started, then corrected himself " - you're a husband. It doesn't matter what you are."
"I am *your* husband," Angel said, "and I don't give a damn about what *you* are. I want you, Wesley, flaws and all. Now do *you* want to be with me?"
Wes stared at him. Angel knew the expression. It was the one everyone used when they thought he couldn't possibly be real. Though usually he was in game face when it happened.
"If you want to be here then I won't send you back," Angel said. "I told you, I don't want a zombie or a prisoner. If you're not happy here I won't make you stay. But if you are, then I'll keep you here. And I'll try to help you feel safe."
"I do feel safe when I'm with you," Wesley said.
"Does that mean you want to stay?" Angel asked.
"Yes," Wesley said. The word was so quiet it was as though Wes hadn't even spoken it.
Angel smiled at him. In his head he pictured his hand full of seed, stretched out to the skittish bird. It was like Connor all over again. He couldn't hand all the toys to him. He had to sit and wait and let Wes learn to reach for what he wanted, and eventually walk. "Sounds like I get to keep you then."
"This will happen again," Wes told him.
"Then teach me how to help you," Angel said. Then, knowing he was probably setting his sights too high, added, "Can you tell me what brought it on?"
Wes shook his head. "No, my Lord. I'm sorry."
"Didn't think so," Angel said. "But that's okay. I'm getting used to solving puzzles."
Wes sat up again. He made halting motions in Angel's direction. "I - my Lord, I - I took comfort in being with you."
*C'mon little bird,* Angel thought. Out loud he said, "Really?"
Wes nodded. "Yes. Very much, my Lord."
Angel spread his arms in invitation. "Could take comfort again, if you wanted."
More halting, then Wes finally closed the distance in a rush, curling up against Angel's chest and then settling there.
Angel's smile grew wider. He wrapped his arms around Wes, holding him tight. "This is nice."
"It feels wonderful, my Lord," Wes said.
Angel rubbed Wes's back, rocking him a little to help relax him. Then, knowing Wes would probably chastise himself for a selfish act, he said, "Gotta admit I like this. It's not often I get the chance to hold you for the sake of holding you."
Wes moved back enough to look up at him. Confusion shaped his features. "My Lord, why would you want to do that?"
Angel quickly clamped down on the anger that was brewing inside of him. "Wes, did anybody in the Council ever teach you that touching your husband could be about things other than sex?"
Wes shook his head. "No, my Lord."
"Okay, then today you get a lesson," Angel said, forcing his voice into something calm, and jovial. He let go of Wes long enough to guide him down onto the bed, then immediately spooned up behind him, pulling the blankets up to cover them both. "There. See? It's nice."
Wes pillowed his head on Angel's hand, rubbing it gently with his cheek. "It is, my Lord."
Angel wrapped his free arm around Wes's waist, keeping him close. "Do you like it?"
"I do, my Lord," Wes said.
Angel kissed his shoulder. "Good."
They lay there in silence, the only sounds that of the fire, and Wes's blessedly easy breathing.
Finally, Wes whispered, "Angel, you are the kindest person I have ever known."
"That's actually very sad, Wes," Angel told him. He hugged Wes closer, kissing his shoulder again. "But I'm glad I could at least start a trend."